 
The Rise of the Gods

Books I-V

By Jake Yaniak

Copyright 2015 Jake Yaniak

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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Dedicated to my beloved wife Sarah for her unfailing love and companionship, my parents for instilling in me a love for the fantastic, and to my brother and sisters, for their constant support, friendship and conversation.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Book I: The Sons of Parganas

Chapter I: The Very Beginning

Chapter II: Of Mankind

Chapter III: Concerning the Elves

Chapter IV: The Brothers

Chapter V: The Rise of Ilvas

Chapter VI: The Steelsmith

Chapter VII: The Princess and the Plan

Chapter VIII: Choices Already Made

Chapter IX: The Longer Road

Book II: Dalia The Mariner

Chapter I: The Daughter of Ele

Chapter II: Parting at Inklas

Chapter III: Against Lapulia

Chapter IV: The Burning of Dominas

Chapter V: Peril at Sea

Chapter VI: The Dark Order

Chapter VII: Dalele Marinea

Chapter VIII: The Thunder Snake

Chapter IX: Reunion

Book III: Dark Kharku

Chapter I: The Father

Chapter II: The Journey Begins

Chapter III: The Scars of the Earth

Chapter IV: The Gargantan

Chapter V: Scattered

Chapter VI: Beast and Iron

Chapter VII: The Skatos of Ereg

Chapter VIII: The Kingdom of Seasons

Chapter IX: The Beast

Chapter X: The Dark Order

Book IV: The Hidden Wisdom

Chapter I: Candor Proud

Chapter II: The Vanishing of Futures

Chapter III: The Prisoner

Chapter IV: The War of Peace

Chapter V: A Darkness

Chapter VI: Discourses

Chapter VII: Loyal Friend

Chapter VIII: The Fire Bird

Chapter IX: The Trial of Theodysus

Book V: Noro The Hero

Chapter I: Not for Happiness

Chapter II: The Broken Peace

Chapter III: The Marriage

Chapter IV: The Sword and the Spear

Chapter V: Seasons of Loneliness

Chapter VI: The Blest of Anatheda

Chapter VII: Noro the Hero

Chapter VIII: The Kingdom to Be

Chapter IX: The Vanishing of the Elves

Chapter X: Fate

Chapter XI: The Hospitality of the Blest

Chapter XII: The Nihlion

Introduction

There are none who know so well the value of history as do the elves, who, were it not for the might and valor of our own City, would have plunged the whole world under tyranny eternal. It was the strength of our City alone that held them back when in the beginning of this age they sought to take the whole of Tel Arie for their own, and it was the daring and cunning of our warriors that broke their power in Olgrost, Ilmaria and finally in Weldera. One kingdom still remains under their power, and we have every reason to believe that it will, in short order, fall as well.

But there are a few among our more learned citizens who have taken thought to the survival of our own City. For the ancient prophets spoke clearly concerning the breaking of the Magic Tower, and the coming of certain omens has revived the ancient fear that one day this mighty City would, like all other dominions, come to an end.

Those who think that such thoughts are overly dark ought to take heed and think of what befell the once mighty Vestron Kingdom, and then later the Marin Quendom that replaced it. Look at Dadron's fall also if you cannot by other means convince yourself that no City is immortal, whether it is the abode of elves or of men.

In this work I mean to recount certain events and doings that have great relevance to our own City's security and future. Some of these things have generally been swept aside by our historians, who always have their eyes on the mighty, and who therefore often miss the very small. Surely, the small affects the large just as the large affects the small, and no account can truly be considered Truth if it does not pay attention to every detail.

Read on, and learn why, though peril certainly will come to Lapulia, there is perhaps yet reason to hope.
[Book I:  
The Sons of Parganas](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)
[Chapter I :  
The Very Beginning](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Queen's Words

'You are the cause of everything; of that which has passed, of that which now is, and of that which must soon come to be.

'Look to the world, my son, and see with what regularity it conducts itself. See how futile would be the craft of the mariner if the waters on which he sailed had not a fixed law. And how vain would be the trade of the smith, if his iron could say of a sudden, "This day, I shall not melt, though your fire be ever so hot."

'You also, my son, are ruled by such laws. Yet it remains true nonetheless that it is by you that all the stars of heaven are given their light.

'What? Do you not believe me? You, my son, are like a leaping flame, springing to life when at once there is the right heat, fuel and air. When these are present, so is the fire, and when they are not, the fire is not. Tell me, my son, is it not so, that you are the fire, kindled of your parents' love? Take away your father, my son, and where would you be? You would be as the fire, when the logs are removed from the hearth. Remove your mother, and will you not be as the flame that has been covered with a cloth, or doused with cold water?

'You see my son, if all that has been remains as it was, you must be born, for the world is ruled by laws, and as surely as the flame leaps up when the wood is hot and the air is flowing, even so do you rise as it were from the passion of your fathers and their forefathers before them.

'Take away any one of them and the whole is upset and undone, resembling not at all what it had hitherto been. So it is true, you see, that if you had not been born, then your father and your mother must have had lives different from what they had. But how can we, who are ruled by laws, have lives different from what we have been caused to have by our own parents?

'If the world had been different, then different causes must be employed; would you expect that one might change the cause of the world without changing what that cause hath wrought? So that one cause, which brought forth sun and stars, moon an earth, to make a world different from that wherein you must be born, must have been different also. And if that cause be different, my son, do you not now understand that the sun and stars must have been different also?

'The stars, my dear Pelas, the stars as they shine have you as their cause; you are the link in every chain that makes the world that which it is, and without which nothing would be as it is. Change yourself, my son, and watch the world change with you; change the world, my son, and you will be changed also. You are connected to everything; you and all are one.'

Thus spoke a doting mother to her favorite son in the ancient world of Bel Albor. But even as the words left her lips, the fate of her own realm was sealed, and there remained nothing more that any man could do to prevent that which would eventually fall upon the kingdoms of the North. For her words were imbibed by her young child's eager ears, and they were not without effect.

Pelas Parganascon was the youngest of two twins, both sons of Lord Parganas, who had by many wars made himself lord of a great realm. Despite their common parents, and despite the usual way of twins, Pelas and Agonas could not have been more different from one another. Pelas had a smooth and clear complexion, soft hands and a kind face.

Agonas, his brother, was dark and rough, with eyes of fire and a sharp brow. These differences proved to have a profound impact upon the opinions of those around them, manifesting themselves in the form of many inequities. If Pelas was called wise, his brother, for the same accomplishment, was called cunning, or crafty. If Pelas was called strong, his brother was called mighty or fierce. If Pelas was called beautiful or noble, his brother was called dashing or handsome, and so on and so forth. The Queen, Lady Aedanla, could scarcely look her elder son in the eye, and was very often plainly indifferent to him. But Pelas she adored; and she tutored him herself, though she sent Agonas to the schoolmasters for his education.

On the other hand, the King, Lord Parganas, considered Pelas to be 'almost a daughter', disdaining his gentleness and quiet spirit. In his eyes, it was the strong arms of Agonas the Elder that would some day bring great honor to his kingdom. Accordingly, he took Agonas aside and taught him to use the blade and spear personally, while Pelas learned from Maru, the Captain of the Guard in Parganas' army.

Despite all of this, the brothers remained close in spirit, and would take no part in their parents' quarrels. When they did quarrel it became clear that whether it was in strength of arms or in strength of wit they were twins through and through, neither having any advantage over the other. And so Pelas wished it always to be. For he noticed more of the inequities of the court than his brother, and wished them never to impinge upon their fraternal love.

Agonas, on the other hand, noticed the inequities only indirectly, and strove with great fury and passion to retain his position.

Pelas, not wishing to lose the balance they had enjoyed from their youth, in turn strove with great exertion to remain his brother's equal. More often than not this manifested itself in a deep comradery, and a jovial competitiveness. But on occasion, a shadow of their future as it were would reveal itself and blood would be drawn in contests that were meant for recreation.

There was a time, just as they neared their fourteenth birthday, that they fell into a rage and wrestled one with the other. Agonas held Pelas fast, and bent his arm so hard behind his back that Pelas shouted with agony and cursed his brother's name. When he was at last released from Agonas' grip, Pelas fell upon him with a fury, breaking his brother's nose with a strong blow with his fist.

King Parganas had Pelas beat with a rod, but at his mother's request, not so much as a mark was left upon his tender skin. As far as Agonas was concerned, Lady Aedanla said only that, 'it was not much of a nose before, and it cannot be much worse for having been broken.'

As these two brothers and all that they would do, both in their own era and in ours, can be considered the effects of those causes that preceded them, there is much that can be learned by considering those causes, even unto the very beginning of the world.

How the Old World was brought forth, and who the principle actors were in its foundation and its fall was merely hinted upon in that valuable though disjointed work, the War of Weldera, wherein the final judgment of those so-called gods was described. Seeing how that eminent author left this world without having completed his whole design, I thought it would be fitting if I brought his work to completion and gave an account of those things he had left unstated. There is perhaps as much to be gained from a full history of the rise of the gods of Weldera as there has been in the account of their fall. Howbeit, in this case the rise itself was a fall.

God and gods

If I am going to give an account of the rise of the gods, then I would certainly do well by defining just what is meant by the term 'god'.

Though they take contrary positions concerning the matter, the Nihlion of Solsis and the Mages of Lapulia are, as far as I have been able to ascertain, the only men whose primary understanding of the word 'god' refers to the God of the Sages, or at least some manifestation thereof. To most of mankind, on the contrary, and in the traditions of the elves, gods are anything merely superhuman.

Routinely in their histories, the elves refer to the monster Galmod as an evil 'god'. The dragon worshippers of Lakil ascribe a sort of divinity to their late master, who they say frequently assumed the form of a mighty dragon (particularly when the wine flowed freely during their autumn festivals). The inhabitants of Kharku, from what little is known of them, seem to have gods in greater quantities than they have men. In Vestron, and to a lesser extent in old Bel Albor itself, the elves themselves were at times considered gods.

One certainly cannot rule out the existence of all such supermen, monsters and sprites. But the one thing these beings all have in common is their temporality and their perceptibility. In other words, according to the teachings of those who worship them or fear them, they are creatures such that they can be discovered by eyes and hands. That being the case, there has been a long tradition of irreverence among the Mages of Lapulia concerning these gods. To us the asceticism of the dragon worshippers, the political interests of the elves, and the gullibility of the Kharukers can explain such beliefs far better than the truth of their doctrines. For if these gods be visible, audible, perceptible, then we, perceiving, yet seeing them and hearing them not, are more than just in concluding them to be the figments of careless minds - and nothing more.

Along with us in this opinion, interestingly enough, are the Nihlion of Weldera, who, like us, ascribe no divinity to such beings. I am told that among the Nihlion are to be found men as doubtful of the world of spirits as the Lord Mage of Lapulia himself. But, as the knowledge of these people is still somewhat new to the world, not much more can be said concerning what they, as a whole people, accept and reject.

What separates the Nihlion from the Lapulians, however, is their answer to the next question: Is there such a being as the Sages describe by the term God? Here, I must confess, I find the view of my own people (the Lapulians) most unsatisfactory, as I will make clear in what is to follow - and I beg my readers to withhold their judgment of my own view until it has found its full expression in the fourth book of this work.

Both the Nihlion and the Mages agree on this point: that the world is temporal, perceptible and understandable. Both these parties are also in agreement that God is none of these things. It follows from this that the world is not God, nor is God anything within the world. It is strange, then, that the Lapulians say such a being does not exist on the basis of facts discovered solely within the very thing to which the Nihlion contrast their deity.

It is an established doctrine in our city, that Reason left to itself cannot prove the truth of anything; it only has the power to draw from our knowledge what is already contained and implied therein. The content of our knowledge, of course, is restricted to the limits of our own experience, as any one who reflects upon their own thoughts can easily discover. Thus, Reason finds itself restricted to experience as well. Now, it must be admitted that we cannot experience that which lies beyond the power of our senses. An evaluation of the doctrines of the Nihlion, then, is beyond the power of sensation and Reason alike, and therefore, beyond the power of man. Those who say, as our Lord Mage has recently declared, that, 'The notion of the Nihlion, that God made the world, is not a peculiar one, nor is it a compelling one. For if such a being existed, surely we would find in this our world some semblance of evidence,' - those who say such things reveal only that they have misunderstood the whole matter.

All this has been said to prevent what must certainly be objected against what is to follow. It will be said that in recounting the creation myth of the Nihlion, I have wholly departed from sound thinking. For what proof have I that the doctrines of the Nihlion are correct? What proof have I that they are not?

That the mind of man has its limits is, ironically, one of the most difficult truths to get men to understand. But the accounts of men such as the Nihlion, strange though they sound to a Lapulian's ears, must be evaluated by their own merit, and not on the misunderstandings of careless thinkers. And they must be understood in the terms of those who wrote them, and not according to the conventions of Lapulian mages, who share no common history with the Nihlion, either in language or custom.

As the motto goes in our own City: 'Learn it first, then learn it thoroughly, then judge.'

Golden Age

It is said among the Nihlion that the Eternal One first of all created the mighty Maja, who, in the traditions of Dadron, is called by the name Thaeton, Lord of Dragons. The government of the Elementals was placed under his command, and he was given the task of shaping the world that would soon appear. For this reason he was worshipped by the southern elves under the name of Ilviria, which signifies, Goddess of Life. In Kharku this ancient being has more names than can be remembered, but the most prominent name is 'Khuhus', which means, 'Crafty One'. If there is anything resembling a true deity among the Kharukers, then it is the one they call 'Khuhu Nai', which signifies, 'the Greatest Crafty One'. The Nihlion in some of their less important texts seem to split the Maja in three, calling him at once, Ternus, Espas and Caustos - 'the three false gods who created the world'.

When at last the work of creation was completed, the Maja took upon himself the form of a Dragon and entered into the world he had formed to survey all that had been created. But he found it to be quite different from what he had expected. In great frustration he returned at once to the abode of the gods, which lies beyond the starry heavens. He came at last to the throne of the Almighty and made his complaint, saying, 'What has come of all my labors, which I expended upon this earth? It has been brought to naught.'

This answer was given to him, 'Your labors have not come to naught; only within your own eyes is this so.'

'I made a world of joy and mirth, but it has, by some other power become a ruin and a wreck!' the Dragon protested.

'The only power in the world is that which was given into your hands to do with as you please; look within yourself, and you will see the world you have made. But look without and you will see the world that has created you. All is not lost.'

'But I was granted the power to do with the world as I wished; how then is it otherwise?'

'It is true that you were given such a power. But more than that you were not given.'

At this the Dragon fled away and returned in a rage to the earth. Like a flaming arrow he smote himself against the world he had made, causing a great fire to rise up from the ground. In the midst of these flames the great Dragon lay himself down in great anguish of soul, lamenting the work of his own hands.

When he arose, and when he had taken a look at the stars above, he discerned that an entire age of the world had passed. The air had changed, and there was a gentle rain falling - this was the first rainfall. The feel of the water calmed his raging heart and he could, for that moment only, discern in the world a quiet wisdom. A voice spoke so softly to him that he could not tell whether it was his own heart speaking, or some other being. 'Think not that I shall leave the world a ruin forever. This world, though you think it has been corrupted, has not been forsaken. It is your work alone, but you are not your own work. From thence shall spring the destiny of the world. Take comfort!'

Of Living Things

When the Dragon first beheld a living creature he was moved, for the first and only time, to laughter. So thunderous was his guffaw that the Nihlion say, in their fairy tales at least, that his laughter gave birth to all the winds of the earth. While this doctrine has led many in my own city to fall into fits of laughter themselves, it is not so very different from the very serious and pessimistic opinions of some of our own Mages. Master Ecus, for instance, in a very long work on motion argues that even the tiniest movement can bring about a hurricane or a cyclone in another part of the world. At any rate, it is very likely that both the ancient Nihlion and Ecus had the same principle in mind when they wrote, though they spoke with different tongues.

The first creature, the Nihlion say, was something akin to a tiny fish, and it appeared in the warm waters off the eastern shore of Dominas. The warm sun and the ancient ocean together nourished this life, and after an age had passed the waters teemed with an infinitude of creatures.

When the dragon saw them he was filled with disappointment, thinking to himself, 'Is this that of which the Almighty spoke? The frailest thing I have yet beheld, and it is the world's great hope?'

With great anger he filled his lungs with air and sent leaping flames out over the waters. The flames licked up the waters, turning the living creatures into ashes and smoke. But for all his wrath, there were a few that remained, and those that survived his anger grew mightier with each blast of flame and went deeper into the sea where the flames could not reach them.

The dragon plunged into the depths, his fiery soul boiling the water wherever he swam. Beneath the waves he pursued the living creatures to the darkest regions of the sea. But despite his great power he could not extinguish them all. In time, the creatures grew strong and large, and those that survived donned armor of scales and learned cunning ways to evade their vicious assailant.

He took their resistance as a mockery of his own labors and his own sufferings, and he vowed to make an end of them.

In time the fish grew so strong and sturdy that a few of them dared to crawl out of the sea onto dry land, their thick skins now hardened against even the boiling sun above. But the dragon arose from the waters in pursuit, hot with rage and with steam rising from his flesh. He chased these creatures into the forests and jungles of the world, which had sprung up out of the earth during his absence from the dry land. These he burned with fire, always in pursuit of the living creatures. But for everything he slew, a new creature arose in another place; stronger, and more prepared for his rampages. Even the very forests he burned began to withstand him, and some trees even produced seedlings that would not begin to grow without first being burned by fire.

In time, the living creatures of the earth took to the air to escape the dragon on the ground. And the dragon followed them, chasing them through the sky, soaring upon his mighty wings.

Thus the whole world - air, land and sea - was filled with living creatures, and the Dragon at last retreated, finding a great cavern in the south in which to rest from the furious war he had waged against all living things. There in the darkness he turned his mind to other things, hoping to find the hidden wisdom of the world. But he sought it not to gain hope, but rather advantage; for he hoped that by it he might overthrow the purposes of heaven. Meanwhile, the fires and wars he had begun continued to rage, shaping and changing everything according to his hatred.

Of the Goblins

Among all the creatures of the earth there have been none so clever as the apes. For this reason they are the most beloved of the dragon; and in the ancient world they were his most faithful servants. After several ages of the world had passed, and when his fury had at last cooled, the Dragon Thaeton emerged from his lair and wandered the plains of Kharku in despair. It was there that he first laid eyes upon these strange beasts.

His immense size and his terrible power soon gave him the lordship over even the strongest of them, and from their line he bred the wildmen, who are the ancestors of the goblins.

With the power of the dragon ever at their side, the goblins multiplied and spread throughout Kharku and made their way into Ilmaria, Dominas and even into the southern portion of Bel Albor. Soon these creatures became too numerous for the dragon to manage, and he was forced to forsake the greater portion of them, leaving them to fend for themselves in the distant wilds of the world, but the strongest of the creatures he kept in Centras, which is now the island of Kollun.

There he built for himself something of a fortress, though no wall could give him better defense than his own scales and claws. From Centras he waged a long war against all that was beautiful, sending whole armies of brutish ape-men out to trample every flowering field, burn every forest, and to soil every clean brook.

Almost as if in response to this injury, the world grew all the more perilous: Poisonous animals of every kind appeared, and dark creatures of sickness crawled about under every rock, making the goblins pay for their infractions in full and in blood.

Of the Dwarves

Some time afterwards, in the land of Kharku, Thaeton discovered a group of apes that were even more adept and cunning than the goblins. He tried to bring these also under his dominion as he had done before, but was met this time with fierce resistance. These 'Fire Children', as they were called in the ancient days, he discovered in the smoldering hills of Khufahr, which is in the land that is now referred to as Deplund. The hot and arid terrain made their skin as strong as leather, and the ever-changing volcano made them - at least those who survived - adaptable.

Upon them the gift of Reason was first bestowed, though it was not given to them in the same measure as it would later be given to mankind. It is said among some of our more comical poets that it was the hot landscape that made them first devise words and language in consequence. Surceti says, through one of his actors, 'Indeed, that divine spark was given to the dwarves by means of that earthly spark, which burned ever beneath their feet. Wherever the heat grew too great, the dwarves would cry out, 'Yaha!', which would effectively and verbally give warning to the others to find some other ground to walk upon. Incidentally, 'Yaha' is the dwarven word for both 'hot' and for 'peril' in general.'

The name they gave to the dragon, when at last he had made himself known to them in power, was Yaha'Nai, which being translated is, 'The Great Evil' or ' The Great Fire'.

It was primarily through their ability to use words that they were able to evade the dragon's many assaults. After he was unsuccessful in his endeavors to enslave them, he took it upon himself to stamp them out from the earth. But with each war he and his goblins waged, the dwarves grew only stronger than before. If their bones were like oak in the beginning, they became like iron by the end of that age. Their intellect became as swift in its judgment as their arms were in battle, and their skill in forged metals grew in proportion to their needs.

The fire of the dragon drove them deep into the ground where they discovered and mined the many hard metals from which they crafted their armor. The dwarven name for 'armor' is fle'na, which seems to indicate, 'double-skin'. This skin they bore in their contests with the goblins, driving them, for a time, almost to extinction in Kharku. When at last they faced the Maja Thaeton, he found that they had become too powerful for him to defeat. In a battle, lost to history, but easily discernible in the ruins of that ancient land, ten-thousand dwarf built golem-riders battled the Dragon, severing his right hand and piercing him with so many wounds that the dragon was, for an age of the world, thought to be dead. He fled from that battle and disappeared beneath the waves of the western sea.

[Chapter II:  
Of Mankind](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Man

The goblins that had once dominated the whole earth were now leaderless. In the absence of their Dragon-lord, the Hobgoblins appeared, dividing the races of goblins according to the happenstance of war. These creatures carried on the work of their former master by instinct now, though the terror of their lord had passed away. They made war against one another, they befouled the waters they drank, they trampled the earth beneath them, and devoured the living creatures of the world. And for all this they suffered in proportion to their ignorance.

But among them arose a tribe of goblins more noble and more powerful in battle than any other. The reason of their sudden ascendance lay as much in their strength as it did in their intelligence. They devised an elegant but simple system of speech and they built sturdy homes and strong weapons. Independently of the dwarves they explored the deeps and made use of the strong metals they found therein, though never with the same level of skill. These, properly speaking, were the first human beings, though the elvish histories deny their existence altogether. The elvish historians, having inverted consciences, have always found it necessary to invert their histories, making what clearly was truth into myth and making what was clearly myth into their history. This act of theirs, this falsification of history, more than anything else, is the cause of the deep hatred our people have always borne toward their kind. I trust that I do not need to cite any source to prove that this is the case.

These men spread out all over the ancient world, founding societies on every continent. In the south they encountered the dwarves, and established a tenuous friendship, broken here and there by petty skirmishes and wars, but for the most part profitable for all parties. But it was not in the south that mankind was to meet its destiny. In the North they encountered the Dragon; and in the North they finally overcame him and from the North has come the means by which we also might escape the Dragon's evil.

The wars of man drove many of the weaker tribes, both of goblins and humans, into hiding. One such tribe was the Yuhma, which had a man named Athann for its lord. They made their way little by little into the north, hiding in caves and behind waterfalls to escape the perils of the wild.

After many years of wandering, they came to a land of such abundance that they were collectively stricken with dumbness as they wandered through natural orchards and waded across the crystal rivers of the Far North.

The word they devised for this place was 'Iha', which the traditions of the Nihlion suggest is derived from the sound of a man gasping, as if his breath had been taken away by the sight of something beautiful.

In this place they encountered that being the Nihlion call Daryas, but whose real name is unknown to the modern world. He said to them, 'It was not chance alone that led you into this land. You have been led here by the will of the Almighty King. It is time for your kind to take its place in the world, and restore it to its ancient luster. To this end has your tribe been preserved from perils, and for this task they shall receive blessing such as has not been bestowed upon any other creature. Life unending shall be given into your left hand, and wisdom unlimited shall rest in the palm of your right hand. Walk in the blessing of the Almighty, and your righteousness will shine like the immortal stars of heaven.'

To this the lord of men readily agreed, and he relayed the words of Daryas to his tribesmen, who, being refreshed and strengthened against their sufferings, were greatly encouraged. 'A new name I give to you,' Daryas told them all, 'You shall from henceforth be called by the name, 'Man', and it is your destiny to restore the world.'

There is nothing that happens upon the land that does not affect the waters, and the signs of this new commission soon reached the Maja, who had spent the past age doing to the inhabitants of the sea what he had done first to the inhabitants of the land. It was through his work below the surface that the great monsters of the deep were created. Galmod, the sea monsters, and the Aguians alike were shaped and formed by his wicked deeds, and for the most part subjugated to his purposes. The dolphins alone, it is said, resisted him, and for this they are revered by the holy men of every age.

But when he heard about mankind and the task for which he had been elected, he rose from the abyss and crawled out upon the shores of Bel Albor. No longer had he the strength or the will to fight, and since his defeat by the dwarves, he was fearful of any creature in possession of wisdom.

When at last he made his appearance among mankind, he made no effort to terrorize them, or to demonstrate his great might. He seemed, to them, like some ancient beast, weary, and ready to die at any moment. For several years he haunted their gardens and on occasion, when they were not frightened away, he would speak to them with soft words, calling them each by name, and sounding, by all accounts, like a caring kinsman rather than the dread Lord-Dragon.

After he had gained their trust he approached the Lord Athann, who had been given rule over all the people of Iha.

'For what,' he asked, 'do the men and women of your clan labor?'

'We labor for the Almighty King,' he replied, taking a break from his labors as one who pauses to greet an old friend.

'But, for what do YOU labor?'

'What do you mean?' Athann said, 'We labor for the Restoration.'

'And is that Restoration for you also?' the dragon asked. After the man made no reply, the dragon turned and left him. 'I must find my way back to the shade; the noon sun is too strong for me these days.' He slowly wandered away, breathing heavily and dragging his tail upon the ground.

Some time later, the dragon, having already planted his seed, and given it time to germinate, thought to himself that the time had come to water it, and hopefully, to bring to fruition his subtle assault upon this race of men. But he went not to Athann again, for he knew the man must hold him in suspicion from their previous encounter. Instead, he went to Lady Mainalann, Athann's beloved wife, and, struggling with each step, he crawled to her feet.

'Dear friend,' she said to him, 'why do you struggle so?'

'It is because death is near, and my old bones pierce me from within.'

'Is it so dreadful,' she asked, with tears forming in her eyes, 'to die?'

'Who am I?' the dragon asked, 'to answer such a question?'

'Then whom shall I ask?' she said, 'You are the wisest of all creatures.'

At this the dragon laughed gently, 'Nay, daughter, I am but a child of the world as well. Look to the earth, to the sky, and to the great waters, and there you will find wisdom.'

'I have lived my whole life amongst these three, yet I still understand nothing,' the woman said.

'Come, then,' the dragon said abruptly, suddenly seeming to grow in strength and vigor. 'I will show unto you the world and its wisdom.'

Sorrows

First the dragon brought her to a land of great beauty, a land in which living things of all kinds thrived. There he led her through fields of green plants and over bubbling brooks of crystal water. 'Is it not beautiful,' he asked her.

'It is beautiful,' she responded. 'It steals the very air from my lungs.'

'Then would it surprise you to know how much suffering lies beneath your feet?'

'Say on,' she said, suddenly feeling a sickness come over her.

'Dig into the mud, daughter of earth,' he said, almost in an imperious tone.

She immediately complied, scratching at the ground with her fingers until she revealed a nest full of shattered eggs. 'What is this?' she said, puzzled.

'It was the nest of a certain bird, that which your people call a 'groundling'.'

'But what happened to the eggs - to the chicks?'

'Look there,' the dragon said, lifting his nose toward the east. Lady Mainalann made her way slowly in the direction the dragon had indicated, feeling a greater uneasiness with every step. There she saw another nest. But here she saw a rat also, cracking the eggs one by one and devouring the chicks ere they hatched.

'Now, daughter of earth,' the dragon said, 'Look at all this beauty with fresh eyes - and see that even as all living things have a kind to which they belong - even so, life itself is but a kind of the dead.'

Those words went deep into her soul and began to work within her a sorrow and a hatred of all the suffering she beheld. She chased the rat away, and wept over the broken eggs.

'Hmph,' the dragon snorted, 'it is a pity.'

'What?' she asked,' wiping the tears from her face.'

'The rat,' Thaeton said, 'it will have a hard time feeding its young. You see, if you save the eggs, then the rat must perish, for what else shall it eat?'

'There are the green things, which we also eat.'

The dragon laughed. 'Come,' he commanded.

He brought her to an old forest and led her deep within where the light of the heavens is very faint. There she was shown a great many rotted limbs and fallen trees, many of which were now home to rats, serpents and spiders. 'How lovely is all this rot?' he said to her, showing her how everything that lives, even the trees, must be brought to nothing.

'See how the insects devour the bark of the tree, and how the moss covers it and rots it away. Then look at these saplings, and how they, like all of these trees, struggle every day for their lives.'

'I see them,' she affirmed.

'These trees, these little trees,' he said sorrowfully, 'Do you not see how with every power they possess they struggle for life? And do you not see how, in blindness their very parents shut them out, and snuff them out, blocking the light of the sun from their leaves?'

'I see it all,' she wept, putting her hand upon the rotted trunk of a dead tree.

Next the dragon brought her to the shore of the eastern ocean, and showed her the bones of a great fish that had landed there by some mishap. The sight of the bones terrified her, but the dragon bade her walk on, sounding more like a master than a friend with every step.

She came upon a sight that filled her with more horror than anything else. There was a great fish, the size of a large boat, lying upon the shore, hopelessly trapped and doomed. Above it circled many vultures and upon its wasted bulk there crawled scavengers and rats, each taking a piece of the great fish for its supper. She turned to leave, with tears streaming down her face, but the dragon compelled her to approach the fish. 'Do you see the pain in this great beast's eyes?'

But Mainlann could not answer; her heart grew so heavy that she thought she would faint.

Observe,' the dragon said, 'Can a fish again live, which has come onto land in such a way?'

'No,' she said through tears.

'And can such a fish receive any benefit from living at all?'

She could give no answer.

'Would not a shorter life better serve this great beast, and not a longer?'

'It would seem so,' she said with great sorrow.'

'You, oh stewardess of Bel Albor, into your hands has been placed the destiny of this world - into the hands of your tribe. What shall you do, then, to ease the sufferings of this creature?'

'There is nothing I can do,' she admitted.

'Can you not at least put an end to his suffering? Take a blade in your hand and snuff out his life,' the dragon commanded.

'It is too large,' she admitted, falling to her knees in the sand. 'There is nothing I can do,' she repeated.

The dragon took in a deep breath and then sighed. 'Very well, then, I shall do it. Leave this place now!'

In great fear she fled from that place, her tears raining upon the ground as she ran. Behind her she could hear the sound of bones cracking and flames leaping. The great fish bellowed, making such an awful sound that all the carrion fled away in an instant. But in that same instant, silence came, and Mainlann knew that the fish was now dead.

She continued running without looking back until she came at last, she knew not how, to the village of her tribe. She ran to her husband and fell at his feet, weeping uncontrollably. Her skin white as snow, her whole frame trembled with fear.

The mere sight of his beloved in such a state brought the ruler of men to tears himself, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their home.

When some time had passed, and her terror began to wane, she spoke to him of what she had seen. He listened to each word carefully, seeing in her face the deep agony that she had experienced.

'It is too grievous a task we have been given, and one filled with evil,' he said as he listened.

'But what can be done?' she said with tears. 'It is our destiny as well. We will fill this whole world with our children, and subject them as well to all this pain and horror. Shall our seed be scattered like the seeds of a tree, to be eaten in the wild? Shall our babes be devoured ere they are grown, by all the rats and hawks of this life? Shall our dear ones be cast along the road like the shells of so many eggs? What endless torment has been has devised for our children!'

'It shall not be so,' Athann said with sudden resolve.

The End of Mankind

Athann and his wife retired to their tent, and for seven days they did not come out. When at last they emerged, they found the whole tribe gathered around them, waiting as it were, for some new revelation. They were both very gaunt and frail, for they had taken no meat and drank only what water they were brought. In their eyes there was a glow, however, as if they had gained the very knowledge of heaven.

Despite the infirmity of his body, Athann's voice sounded strong and confident. Beside him stood his wife, Mainlann, with tears upon her cheeks no longer.

'Children,' he said with no sign of emotion, 'the world is evil. Look within yourselves and see. When the body is filled with desire, it is miserable for the lack of its fulfillment. When the desire is fulfilled, the body is miserable for the lack of desire. What is life without misery?

'He who can know suffering, suffers the greatest. The beast of the field is happy, even until the lion comes and tears at it, and even as it is torn limb from limb, it has only the pain to endure. But man has disappointment mingled with every grief, and fear with every new day. It is a sorrowful tale - the history of men, and a sorrowful story it will forever be. We, the wisest of all creatures, are cursed with the greatest possible sufferings.

'For what end? I ask, for what end? Look about you and behold how meaningless is every individual thing. Every creature comes and passes, suffering just long enough to pass its spirit into a new frame and then expire. The children do the same, and their grandchildren also, until what? What is it all for? What good shall it do for man to endure until the end of time? To survive is to magnify suffering, and therefore to magnify evil.

'Turn aside therefore, my children, from the way of life, and make no creature to suffer, whether for meat or for labor. Relinquish desire, and succumb to the sleep of time. Let us resist this world, and in resisting it find peace in the hands of death, where we may drink in the dreamless sleep of oblivion.'

To go along with these new doctrines, Athann and his wife devised new laws, and swore that they would usher their people gently across the threshold of death, where their suffering would come to an end. It was in those days that men and women first began to wear clothing, properly speaking. They had, of course, for the sake of warmth and to hide their skin from the blazing sun, created raiment for themselves in times prior. But now, to avoid the evils of life, and the travails of childbearing, Athann forbade his people, especially the women, from being seen unclothed, lest they should be tempted to extend mankind's suffering.

The Rebellion

There was a young man in the tribe by the name of Adapann, who was, prior to the new laws of Athann, betrothed to a young girl named Avann. But at the command of Athann all such betrothals and all marriage unions had been dissolved.

But it so happened that as Avann was bathing in the stream with some of the other women a great bear appeared, such as lived only in the ancient world. In a great fury this bear attacked the women, sending those who escaped into the wilds, wearing only what linens they wore for bathing.

Ignoring her companions altogether, the bear pursued Avann into the forest of Hunn, where she found refuge among the trees. The bear remained below her, circling the trunk and snorting with great frustration. From time to time the bear would lean its weight against the trunk of the tree and lift itself almost close enough to catch Avann by the ankles. She wept as her feet felt the hot breath of the monster below her.

Soon news of the attack reached the ears of Adapann, who rushed into the woods alone with his fishing spear. He was waylaid by Furann, the chief servant of Athann, who said to him, 'Why should you rush to save life? Do you not understand the ways of our people?'

Adapann said nothing, but pushed the man to the ground and rushed into the forest.

His contest with the bear was great, and he received many wounds. But in the end, with the shattered ends of a spear meant for river fish, Adapann, the Father of all Warriors, bled the monster to death, staining the forest red with blood.

He took Avann from the tree and embraced her, glad to see her safe from peril. But as they embraced, their old love was renewed, and they remembered the life they had envisioned ere the new doctrines of Athann had rent their destinies apart. 'It is evil,' she said to him, shuddering as his eyes were fixed upon her, 'to look upon me so.'

'Then it is an evil I must bear, for I could no sooner look away than I can fly up to the clouds and drink from the crystal skies above.'

'But shall we be found guilty of that evil, which Athann has expressly forbidden?'

Adapann sighed, and looked into his beloved's eyes. He put his hand to her face, and brushed the hair from her eyes. His bloodied hand left a streak of red upon her cheek, and he saw just how pale she had become. 'Athann would have us forgo love in order to abstain from suffering. But who ever said that suffering is an evil? And who ever said that sorrow ought to be avoided? Why should we let ourselves perish, and our work with us? If we choose to live, then perhaps our pain will be great, but so also will be our righteousness.

'Athann is wise to keep your beauty hidden away,' Adapann continued, 'if it is his intention to bring about the end of mankind. For having seen it unveiled, my will is taken captive, and I will choose every pain and every sorrow for the sake of your love.'

'And what of our children?' Avann said, with tears swelling in her eyes. 'Will you bring pain and suffering upon them as well?'

Adapann, with fire in his eyes, said, 'Yes! I shall bring suffering upon them! Do you not see, that the love that we share, is the root and beginning of life? The very passion that lies betwixt us is the will of those children, generation after generation calling out to us from the world that is to come. For my part, I shall no longer resist them. To live, to die, to suffer even as we do, is already the choice that they themselves have made. Mainlann has seen the death of many creatures, as the Old One has shown her, but did she not see that every one of those creatures desires life, and not death? We may escape sorrow by following Athann to death, but we shall also thereby escape goodness. Judge now, my love, which of these ought to be our master.'

She looked up at her beloved with tear filled eyes and, choosing the way of pain, said, 'I will follow you, my love, for the power that draws us together is irresistible.

With those words spoken they turned their backs toward the village, and, hand in hand, abandoned Athann's path and the tribe of mankind.

[Chapter III:  
Concerning The Elves](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Daryas Returns

It was not long ere Daryas returned to visit Athann. When it was rumored through the village that the old Spirit had returned, Athann retreated once more to his tent, thinking he might, through deep meditation, find some satisfactory answer to give that luminous emissary. But when at last Daryas appeared before him, he asked for no explanations, but simply said, 'You have seen fit to join the great Dragon in his rebellion. You think that in denying your desires you will be made free from suffering. But in denying them you will only be shown to be powerless. No creature can choose to suffer. But to the end that they should do so, and thereby survive, they were given their desires. The very passions you shun exist precisely so that men like you cannot thwart the work of the Almighty.

'You have called this world evil,' Daryas continued, asking rhetorically, 'But what right have you to judge what is good and what is evil? That is a power that was never granted to your kind. But if it is your will, that the word of man shall establish right and wrong, then your will shall be done. And you will see in due course, that the lies of the Dragon have worked within you for evil and not for good. If you find the path of the Almighty King too hard to tread, then tread your own path, and see whence it leads.'

'I never asked to tread any path at all!' Athann said, defiantly.

Daryas laughed, 'For whose sake was the world made? Think you that it was called into being from darkness so that you, Athann, son of the apes, might be happy? Why should your happiness matter to any but yourself? Do you really think, child, that righteousness is the same as happiness, and that wickedness is the same as suffering?

'This world is a hard fate,' Athann grumbled, 'and it is a sorrowful tale your master tells.'

'Perhaps,' Daryas said, 'But it is HIS tale to tell, and it will be told whether Athann pleases or no.'

'I shall have no part in it at least,' Athann said, almost hissing.

Daryas grew so bright in that instant that the whole world seemed to become black and dead by comparison. 'Then your part is taken away,' he said, calmly, but with a voice more powerful than the world. 'And your destiny shall be given to another.'

Within a week, Athann took ill and died. He had grown thin since the day he chose the way of death, and his body was empty of vigor. But in his last hour, his resolve faded away, and he commanded a great feast to be prepared. He ate one last meal of meat and bread, and then fell into a fit of sickness. The people mourned him, and his servant Furann took charge over the tribe.

Athann was not the only man to meet his end in this manner. Death had entered into the tribe, and every which way they looked, there was sorrow and pain. Furann, faithful to his master's commands, exhorted the people saying, 'Do you so easily forget, my friends, how death is nothing to us, who have given up pleasure in life? This is the path we have chosen; to suffer the death, so that our suffering will not pass on into our sons and daughters, even as it does among the wild brutes of the world. Take heart, and face the grim master with courage, therefore, and make an end of suffering for as long as the world endures.'

Nonetheless, the people did not follow Athann's old laws with the same conviction they had at first. Many began fishing the rivers again, and some even hunted for birds in the forest, growing strong on the flesh of the animals, as they had done before the coming of the Dragon. The situation was more than Furann could control, and the whole community broke apart. The death throes of Athann were exhibited fully when three of the younger women were discovered to be with child.

In the end, man's instincts, and his desire for life prevailed, and the folly of Athann and his wife was ended. But the work of the Dragon that had driven them to their rebellion in the first place continued in the hearts of man, and has passed down from generation to generation. And so the despair of the Dragon passed into man, and haunts him to this very day.

Of the Elves and of the Aggelos

Even as Daryas spoke to Athann, the lord of mankind, another messenger, known to the world as Paley, was sent to the exiled Adapann and his wife Avann. They were led into the west to the place the ancients called Vitiai, which signifies, the Mountain of Life. There they were given a place to live and a land to tend, and promised that, so long as they held fast to the purposes of the Almighty King, they would not see death as their fellows in the world below.

Their descendants became known as the Aggelos, and they were, for an age, hidden away from the world. Upon that mountain they built great cities and lived in peace such as the world had not known before, and has not known since. But the echo of the Dragon's words still rang, faintly, in the hearts of the people. Though one land was filled with life and joy, and the other with death and sorrow, both tribes of men, the humans and the Aggelos, multiplied, and filled the land with their children.

It was not long, then, before the people of Bel Albor left their northern homes and spread out into the wilderness to the west and to the south, coming to settle in the shadow even of Mount Vitiai itself.

Now, the men of Vitiai had very dark skin, and, over time, the people of Bel Albor had become fair-skinned. Thus, when at last the young men of Vitiai beheld the daughters of the mortal men below, they were captivated by their strange beauty.

'There are no such women among our kind,' one named Azale said to his comrades, 'And why should we be denied their love?'

He and his comrades, some two-hundred men altogether, swore to themselves that they would make their home in Bel Albor, rather than in Vitiai, and departed from their home in a great caravan. They brought to the people below gifts of gold and silver, and many other fine things that their age of peace had provided them with in abundance.

They came first to live among the Western tribes of men, who had settled nearest the Mountain of Life. As might be expected, their dark forms and their mighty horses stirred up the interests of the people, and they were treated in every way as gods. It was here that they first received the name 'Immortal' so as to distinguish themselves from the rest of mankind. As they had sworn, they made their abode among mankind, each taking a bride (some taking many brides) and mingling their undying blood with the blood of the dying.

A new race of men appeared in that day. The offspring of the Aggelos and human beings were called Aglews, which in time became the word 'Alws' and eventually, 'Elves'. They possessed the vigor and passion of the mortals, yet also the wisdom and nobility of the Immortals, and in many ways they were right when they said of themselves, that they had been 'born to rule over all mankind.'

The Aggelos and their children soon led their people to war and carved out kingdoms for themselves in Bel Albor. Chief among those who had descended from Mount Vitiai was Azale, who settled in the north where Athann had once lived, Semya, who settled in the far east, where the Dragon had deceived Mainlann in ancient days, Arakiba, who settled in the Wilds, which lay in the heart of Bel Albor, and Armaros, who had his domain in the south, near the border of our own world. Rameel, Satarel, Turel and many other Immortals made their homes near the foothills of Vitiai itself. But the plagues and hardships that befell them in that place soon made an end of their prosperity. It is believed that some of their number departed into the deep south, bringing their wealth with them and inspiring the legends of the people of Kharku before passing away into legend themselves. But who can say of a surety whence the people of Kharku derive their many superstitions?

Vitiai Assailed

The memory of Mount Vitiai would not permit the Aggelos to find contentment, however. The love of women, the hoarding of wealth and the acquirement of power was not sufficient for them so long as the beauty and peace of that mountain remained in their minds. They lusted after their old homes, even as they had lusted after the daughters of Bel Albor. Desire turned, with time, into envy, and the first rumblings of war, properly so called, began to be heard. Azale marched with Semya back into the west, leading an army of elves to lay siege to the Mountain of Life itself.

By the very paths through which they had entered Bel Albor, the fathers of the elves returned, bringing war and death to the peaceful immortals of Vitiai. They ravaged the eastern foothills and slew all that would not surrender to them.

In the City of Life, from whence ruled Adapann himself, preparations were begun for war. 'It is in our seed alone that the memory of man's purpose survives,' he said to his captains. 'We shall not lose this war.'

But his exhortations were interrupted by one with wiser council.

'Nay,' said a strange and powerful voice. 'It is not so.'

'Who questions the Lord of Men?' the father of Vitiai demanded.

Standing before him was the figure of a man, clothed in white with a scroll in his hand. Tears were in his eyes. 'Adapann, restorer of the hope of man! It is not the day of your victory.'

'What is the meaning of this?' Adapann demanded.

'Has it been so many ages that you have forgotten the one who called you to Vitiai?'

'It was the Almighty himself that has ever instructed our deeds,' Adapann replied.

'Yet you have never seen the Almighty yourself,' the intruder said. 'Can you forget the voice that spoke to you His will and not forget also that will? If you truly know the Almighty then you will know also him whom he has sent unto you; for without his messenger, you are in ignorance.'

'Paley?' Adapann said, finally recognizing the dissenter. 'My lord,' he said, kneeling, 'forgive me.' His captains and his queen all fell to their knees in unison, for they would not dishonor their lord by standing taller than he.

With great emotion Paley looked upon them. 'Greater beauty has not been seen in the whole of the earth, not since the beginning. Nor shall its like be seen again. Yet it is not through the power, wisdom and beauty of Vitiai that the Almighty shall have his will. There are many paths that seem right to a man bound by time; but no man, be he ever so cunning, can see all ends. But the Almighty chooses the end, and knows well all the roads. You are right, Adapann, that in your seed lives the hope of mankind. But Vitiai shall fall; and that seed will be spread in the world below. You have chosen aright, and your enemies have chosen foolishly. But they are still your brothers and your sons, their folly born of your life as surely as their form and their features. But they shall not all be left in their wickedness - not forever.'

'Then what shall we do? Lay our necks before our betrayers?'

'You mean your sons?' Daryas said, reminding Adapann of the lineage of their assailants. 'Though many ages have passed, is not Azale your kin, even as these are who stand around you?'

Adapann was silent, he broke into tears and held his head in his hands. There he wept, and his court wept along with him, for the folly of their relatives, and for the evil that it had brought upon them.

'I say again,' Daryas continued at last, 'Vitiai shall fall. But do not fear that what you have done in this place has been done in vain. Even now the Almighty has prepared the vessel that shall bear his name and memory into the world below - and there is naught that you or Azale can do that shall prevent him. Go, therefore, and make an end to the people of Vitiai in what manner you see fit. Surrender to your enemies, and live as slaves. Or fight a war such as shall never again be fought, and perish. Long ago you wished upon yourself all the horrors of the world for the sake of love. Now, for the sake of love, accept them, even as you have committed yourself.'

Finally, the Queen, Lady Avann, spoke to her husband, 'It is a cruel fate that the Almighty has made for us.'

'Nay, my love,' he said, embracing her for the last time, 'It is a gift to belong to the Almighty. Do not fear Azale's army. We knew long ago that the end we chose was not for our own sake only, but for the sake of our children. Let us walk down it boldly, then, in our children. Therein alone is the hope of all men.'

From that hour the people of Vitiai were split into two groups. The Faithful, as they came to be called in later ages, remained upon the mountain awaiting the chains of Azale and the scourge of Semya. The others, not content to live their life as prisoners, took up arms and met their kinsmen on the battlefield as enemies.

For ten years the battle raged. The mountain itself was torn to shreds as fire leaped up from secret places and the weapons of Vitiai were unleashed upon the elves and their fathers. Semya fell to the ground in the third year, pierced with a hundred arrows. Azale, in desperation and anger, summoned to his side those who remained of his companions (of those who had deserted Vitiai for the daughters of Bel Albor).

There perished Arakiba and many of his sons. Armaros also, and Rameel with him were killed in battle, slain during the sixth year by the spearmen of Adapann, who had abandoned their lord to seek their fortunes on the battlefield. Satarel and Turel, and nearly all their host were destroyed by the armies of Vitiai, who raged against the elves and their fathers with unending fury.

In the tenth year, the warriors of Vitiai had driven their foes from the mountain, and had taken Azale captive. They bound him with unbreakable chains and threw him cursing into the deepest hole on the mountain, his hands still red with dripping blood.

They threw a great feast and celebrated their victory over the elves and their traitorous fathers. Especially they celebrated their victory over Azale the Red-handed, whose fingers had been awash in innocent blood for the greater part of ten years.

It seemed to their eyes as though they had not only triumphed over Azale and his cohorts, but also over the very decrees of heaven. Paley and Daryas' names were openly mocked among them and the captains of the army laughed at the prophecies that had been given to them. The Faithful they bound with chains and confined in dungeons that had hitherto been used only for storage.

The men of Vitiai had underestimated the elves, however, thinking that they would be weak in proportion to the degree to which the blood of the Holy Mountain had been diluted. But the very opposite proved to be the truth. They were wiser and more beautiful than the men of Bel Albor, but also stronger and hardier than the noble people of Mount Vitiai.

It was in this age that Lord Parganas came to rule over the elves. He was the grandson of both Azale and Semya, his father being the son of the former and his mother the daughter of the latter. For a single generation the Mountain of Vitiai enjoyed its blood-bought peace. Lord Parganas united the people of that region into a single nation, and made one final attempt upon the Holy Mountain. His rage has not been matched, it is said, by any ruler of any age. He set fire to everything that had been wrought by hands, and reduced the mountainside to ashes. No tree remained standing, no field remained unscorched, and no enemy was permitted to live. Adapann himself was slain, though he offered himself up as a prisoner. Lord Parganas was merciless with his enemies.

Except, he was prudent enough to understand that those who had, for a generation, languished in the dungeons on the mountain would be grateful to him for their release, though he was a conqueror and not a savior. These he sent down into the land of Bel Albor to be servants of his generals and captains. Among these went Maelani, the youngest daughter of Adapann and Avann.

The End of the Aggelos

In the generation that followed the end of the War on Vitiai, the Aggelos vanished from the earth altogether. The conflict itself had nearly made an end of those who had rebelled against Vitiai; Semya was slain, Azale lost in the Abyss, and their chief comrades were slain by the captains of Adapann. Those Immortals who remained, whether they were allies of Parganas or not, were hunted down and eliminated by Lord Parganas' servants, until all that remained in Bel Albor were the various tribes of men and those who had been the offspring of mortal and immortal - the elves. The latter of these groups soon gained the mastery over the other, as their long lives endowed them with a prudence the tribes of men could not match - or, so it has always been taught in the elvish histories.

It is unlikely that any king, whether elvish or human, save, perhaps, for Adapann himself, was a more brilliant ruler than Parganas. Knowing the advantage his kind possessed over the humans, he immediately set about the reordering of the ancient traditions. He learned and then destroyed all the histories of Vitiai and Bel Albor alike, preserving the truth within his breast alone. In time the humans accepted his version of their origins, and forgot the tales of their fathers, or began to view them as myths and fables. The very existence of Vitiai was wiped from their memory in but three generations, and only those elves who had partaken in the battles remembered what had come to pass on that now barren mountain. The very stones of the City of Life were pulled down and reused in Parganas' own fortresses, lest the ruins demand an explanation inconsistent with his official narrative.

The history he had invented for his kingdom stated, in short, that the elves had descended from heaven to end the constant quarrels of mankind, and, therefore, all the hardships the elves inflicted upon their race were penalties, and every good thing they received was more than they deserved. If in addition to this the legends of man taught that the elves had destroyed the gods of old, Parganas thought it just as well.

Inheritance

There is a difficulty that the first fathers of the elves did not entirely foresee. Their long lives provided them with many children, but no heirs. For an heir, properly so called, does not receive his inheritance until his father has deceased. But the elves had no intention of doing this. So their children, languishing in perpetual subordination, were given to despair.

Their hopelessness led them to many excesses. Some took to the sea, seeking new lands over which they might make themselves lords. It is the firm conviction of our Lapulian historians that the greater part of these adventurous elves came to reside in Kharku, though a fair number of them dwelt in Vestron and even (our historians are less firm in this) in Dominas. Others resorted to patricide, and indeed inherited the kingdoms of their fathers after all.

Showing the depth of their fatherly love, the elvish lords, to avoid these dreadful perils, resorted to unending wars and conquests, hoping to skewer two boars with one spear, so to speak. Any prince who proved himself to be overly ambitious was sent to the frontiers to battle goblins, monsters, wild men and whatever else might bring them to a quick and tidy death. If the perils of war were not sufficient to make an end of them, the servants of their fathers would poison them in their sleep.

Lord Parganas was not above these methods. Indeed, it is partly because of this that his reign lasted as long as it did. But in the end he began to feel weary of the constant struggle between lord and hopeless heir. It was not his will at first, however, that any of his own children should succeed him. 'They are altogether weak minded and pampered,' he complained, and he banished his many wives from his chambers.

It was then, some one thousand years after his reign had begun, that he first beheld the great beauty of Aedanla, who was the great granddaughter of Maelani, the last daughter of Adapann and Avann.

The lure of such a union overpowered all other interests in his mind. He believed that uniting the blood of the elves with the blood of the Aggelos would grant his kingdom a legitimacy that could never be questioned. He had become so absorbed in his own fictional histories, apparently, that he forgot that his grandsires Semya and Azale themselves had been descendants of Vitiai.

In time, Aedanla bore him two boys, whose fame has so overshadowed their father's that his name is now all but forgotten.

Were it not for the protests of Aedanla, Lord Parganas would have left all, his kingdom and his authority, to Agonas. But the will of Maelani's granddaughter proved to be as fierce as that of fell Semya's grandson - neither Pelas nor Agonas would be given preference. Moreover, in every contest they were proved to be equals.

The solution presented itself by the rise of Sunlan, a kingdom of elves that sprung up beyond the eastern marches of Parganas' own domain. The brothers were told: 'Upon your shoulders is placed the burden of bringing this land under my dominion. Whichever of you accomplishes this deed, and is first to sit upon the throne of Sunlan, will rule my kingdom as well.'

Upon hearing this cruel decree, Lady Aedanla abandoned the halls of Parganas and settled in one of his villas, where she remained until sometime before the fall of Parganas' kingdom.
[Chapter IV:  
The Brothers](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Land of Bel Albor

There was a great river that poured from the Mountain of Vitiai and passed into the south. It was called, as all things pertaining to that mountain were called, the river of Life. Eventually it combined its waters with many thousands of rivers and streams and formed the Great Lake, which the elves call Brost. This lake was fed, not only from the west, but also from the east, and by all the rivers that flowed out of the Talon Mountains of the Sunlan Kingdom. The Great Lake was some six hundred and fifty leagues from east to west and nearly 200 leagues from north to south. Beyond Brost was a somewhat inhospitable land called the Dessa, which stretched south to even less hospitable waters. Beyond these treacherous seas was the land of Tel Arie, where mortals dwelt for a long while unmolested by the wars of the elves and the lies of Parganas.

The Far North, as it was called even in the days of Parganas, grew colder and colder as time passed, driving what human settlements remained into Alwan Kingdom. These rich plains were separated from the north by the forest of Athann, a name the meaning of which few recalled even in that age, and still fewer recall at the present time. Seeing as there was nothing but frozen streams and crumbling mountains in the Far North, there were few who traveled beyond the northern forest. Goblins and wolves soon came to possess the land that had once been home to Lord Athann and his sorrowful wife Mainlann.

Three great rivers split the land of Bel Albor as they made their way into the south. In the western region was the Alba River, which marked the eastern border of the Kingdom of Alwan proper; the ruins of Mount Vitiai itself, and its surrounding peaks, marked its western boundary. Along the banks of the Zase River, a tributary of the Alba River, was built the Royal City of Albori, where Lord Parganas himself dwelt.

To the east of this land were the tributary kingdoms that were ruled over by those elves who had fought beside Parganas in his conquest of Mount Vitiai. This whole region was called the Marshlands, and there were at first several dozen kingdoms that divided the land between themselves. Every one of them swore their allegiance to Parganas. The River of Thedul wound its way through the center of the Marshlands, and terminated in the Lushlin Lake.

The great River Esse, whose source had never been discovered, marked the eastern border of Alwan.

Beyond this river, during the first age of Lord Parganas' rule, was nothing but wildlands. But over time certain elves who had fled from the Marshlands settled in the land beyond the Esse. These were the founders of what would eventually be called Sunlan. This land was marked by great hills and valleys, and lush riverlands fed by clean water flowing from the Talon Mountains.

The Departure

'Honor, my son,' Lady Aedanla began, 'is of greater utility to the living than the dead. When the body is perished, you will be naught but a memory in the hearts of others, and when they are gone - in the hearts of no man. To seek honor in death, then, my son, would profit you only insofar as you imagine your name living beyond you in the opinions of others. Have a care for your own heart, and your own memories, and see to it that you first endeavor to preserve your life. Worry about honor, then, at your leisure.'

'What are you saying, mother,' Pelas said meekly. 'Are you saying that I should betray my own blood? Are you conspiring against the son of your own womb?'

Pelas Parganascon, the son of Lady Aedanla and Lord Parganas, was tall and handsome. At twenty-five years of age he stood nearly a full foot taller than his mother. His golden hair was cut neatly just below his ears, and his face was cleanly shaven. He had just emerged from his chambers, taken his sword from its place on the wall and secured it two his belt when his mother approached him. He wore a bright white tunic with a golden belt, a crimson cape fastened at his breast by a silver clasp, and a pair of sandals. On his brow he wore a small crown with a single blue gemstone set on his football. His mother had been waiting for him in the hall.

'No, my son,' she said weakly, with great pain in her voice. 'As though the dark one has not been pain enough for me, your father has seen fit to give him license to slay you. I do not wish Agonas dead; no mother could wish such a thing. But if there is to be kin-slaying....'

'Mother!' Pelas said, making no effort to conceal his horror.

'My son,' she pleaded. 'You shall be the god of Bel Albor, when at last your father ascends to take his place among the astral lords.'

'And shall I begin my reign with the blood of my brother?' Pelas thundered. He knew as well as his mother that she believed not a word of what she had said about the astral lords.

'If it must be so, then it must be so. It is not my will. It is the will of your father, who placed this burden upon his sons.'

On the morrow, Pelas and his brother were to depart from Alwan Palace, and set out for Sunlan, where, Lord Parganas intended, one of them would prove themselves worthy of inheriting his kingdom. Lord Parganas himself had very little doubt about which of his sons would prevail.

'May the spirits of the North take me, if ever I make myself the enemy of my brother.'

Lady Aedanla looked to the ground, and tears dripped down her face. 'Then so it must be,' she mourned. 'But know this: your brother's thoughts are darker than yours; he will not hesitate to slay you when the hour comes.'

Agonas wore very nearly the same garments as his brother, but his dark complexion made the luxurious attire look comical. His hair was much longer than Pelas', coming down past his shoulders. When he was in the palace he combed his hair and bound it behind his head with a red cord. Upon his crown there was a green gemstone, and the cape he wore was dark blue, rather than crimson.

'Remember all that I have taught you concerning the rule of the people,' Lord Parganas told him as they sat beside one another in the throne room. They faced an empty hall, lit by sunlight as it blazed down through an aperture in the ceiling. Before them was a stone floor, carried piece by piece from Mount Vitiai more than a thousand years ago. It was now worn and beaten down, but Lord Parganas refused to replace or repair it. There were four thrones in the room. In the center there towered the seat of Lord Parganas, covered with gold and cushioned by red silk pillows. On the righthand and lefthand sides were two smaller chairs, likewise cushioned. Upon these sat the princes, Pelas at his father's righthand side (his mother's request) and Agonas on the left. The Lady Aedanla took a seat just behind her husband, but elevated so that she could see and be seen from behind the king's throne. It was a rare occurrence, but when the four of them sat in the hall together, none could stand before them without trembling.

Agonas sat in his brother's chair, however, as his father spoke to him.

'Remember also,' Lord Parganas continued, 'how the histories must be preserved against all detractors. For the past, my son-'

Agonas interrupted him, '-determines the present, which determines, in turn, the future. To control one's destiny, one must first control his history.'

Lord Parganas would have imprisoned and executed any other man for such an interruption, but he smiled at his son's impatience. 'You have learned well,' he told him.

'I have learned from the mightiest,' he said, bowing his head slightly.

'Now, concerning your brother,' Lord Parganas said with some urgency, looking toward the door to make sure they were alone. 'If you can spare his life, do so for your mother's sake. But I would not have his silk-skin sitting upon my throne. It is a perilous world, my son, and it was only because I was more perilous than my foes that I have won this great realm. If you wish to rule it, my son, then you must be perilous also.'

Agonas looked amused and turned his head toward the doorway. Pelas stood there now, looking cross. Behind him stood his mother, peering out from behind his tall shoulders. She stormed into the hall, passing Pelas as he slowly made his way into the room.

'Lady Aedanla, ' Lord Parganas thundered, 'how dare you surpass the steps of the prince of Alwan!'

'He is no prince in your sight!' she said coldly, 'or you would not let his brother usurp his position.'

Agonas rose from his seat and bowed low to his mother. She ignored him; he took his place at his father's left side. Pelas approached and bowed low to his father and sunk into the cushioned seat at his righthand side.

'I warn you, Lady Aedanla,' Lord Parganas said, showing no emotion, 'you are not my first wife, nor would it be the first time I sent a disrespectful woman into exile, or worse.'

'I shall send myself into exile on the morrow,' she told him. 'So you needn't trouble yourself with any official decrees. Thus you can spare yourself the embarrassment.'

Those words seemed to have hit their mark. Lord Parganas rose from his seat. Lady Aedanla, knowing his temper, cast herself limply onto the ground and shook with fear, weeping.

'I will not see you again,' he told her. She kept her face from his eyes and rose slowly. She turned and fled from the throne room, called for her maidservant, and departed from the palace forever. Her heart ached as she fled, for her love for Lord Parganas had been very great. Her fear for her fair son, however, had broken all affection between them. She could not abide his decision to, once and for all, pit their sons against each other.

Ten minutes passed in silence, neither brother daring to speak to their fuming sire. But finally, Lord Parganas sighed. He spoke to them both with affection, and gave no hint of favoritism:

'Tomorrow begins the trial of the sons of Lord Parganas. I swear by my own throne, which was won through blood and sword, and through fire and death, that he who first sits upon the throne of Sunlan, shall be heir, and I shall depart from this land. I will take up my place among the stars. '

He did not mean for them to believe this, but offered it as the explanation for the succession which must, in time, be introduced to the histories.

'Whosoever sits in that throne shall be lord over all, Alwan and Sunlan alike. It shall be in their hand to have mercy and to pardon whom they will, and to slay whom they will. Whoever sits upon that throne, I say, shall be god over all Bel Albor, and there will be, when at last that realm is in his dominion, none to rival his power.'

'Pelas, my son,' he said sternly.

Pelas rose and stood before his father.

'Go, and know that the glory of your mother resides within you.'

Pelas bowed to the ground and departed from the hall.

'Agonas, my son,' Lord Parganas said, in the same tone as before.

Agonas did as his brother had done.

'Go, and know that the strength of your father resides within you.'

Agonas left the throne room and made for his bed-chamber. They would be leaving at dawn, and they would not see their parents again.

They were given no instructions or plans for their coming trial, no weapons or armies; their conquest was to be born of their own labor. They would receive no servants or gold, or anything more than they could acquire by their own ability. 'He who can rise from the dust and make himself into a king,' Lord Parganas said, 'is alone worthy to be a king.'

The First Oath

When Pelas awoke the following morning, he found that his bedchamber had been plundered and all his possessions had been taken away. His head felt heavy, as though he had been ill, and he had no memory of what had happened after he left his father's throne. He thought he could remember heading to the dining hall for dinner, but afterwards everything was clouded and uncertain.

He called for his servant, 'Osli!' he shouted, 'Osli!'

But there was no answer. He stormed out of his room, still wearing his nightclothes. There stood Osli, the silver haired servant who had served him for for the past twelve years.

'Osli,' he said again. The servant ignored him, although his eyes looked uneasy.

'They cannot speak to you, brother,' a voice said.

'Agonas?' Pelas said, with fear in his voice.

'Did you not understand what your father said? No help, brother. We cannot call servants to do our bidding any longer.'

'But my things! My sword, my clothes!'

'Your clothes belong to Alwan, and are no longer in your service.'

'But you are dressed,' Pelas said, looking jealously at his brother's clothing. Agonas wore a brown leather shirt, a pair of cloth trousers and a brown hooded cloak. 'Who gave you those clothes?' Pelas demanded.

Agonas laughed loudly. 'Brother! I got them from a merchant.'

'But father said no gold,' Pelas protested.

'Did I say I bought them?' Agonas laughed harder. 'Here,' he said, passing a bundle to his brother. 'Put these on, and we can be off.'

'We?'

'Yes, "we,"' Agonas chuckled. 'Unless you want to lay siege to Sunlan on your own.'

'But the king said we are to have no help,' Pelas said confusedly.

'Are you even awake, brother?' Agonas said, now growing irritable. 'And to think the people consider you to be the brilliant one!' he mused.

'Have a care, dear hook-nose,' Pelas thundered, referring to his brother's broken nose. 'They say that you are the strong one, but we know better.'

Agonas just stared at him.

Pelas didn't move.

'Are you going to get dressed or not?' Agonas said with a smile. 'We have no help from Alwan, but we are no longer of Alwan. There is no reason we cannot work together, brother.'

'And what will happen when we come to the throne of Sunlan? Who shall win the prize?'

'You can have it for all I care, brother,' Agonas said. 'At any rate, more than likely the perils of the road will be enough to do us both in. But if we make it to Sunlan, then you can have the seat. I am not after a kingdom.'

'Swear it!' Pelas bellowed suddenly, grasping his brother by the shoulders.

Agonas looked at his greedy eyes with horror. 'Swear it now!' Pelas repeated sternly.

Agonas shook his head. 'I swear it; the kingdom shall be yours. What do I care for such things?' he said with a false laugh.

The First Step

'We will need supplies first and foremost,' Agonas said as the brothers departed from the palace. 'We should make our way to Fristan, which is due east of here. Every step toward the rising sun will lead us closer to our goal and further from our father's eyes.'

'You sound as though you are a fleeing criminal, brother,' Pelas marveled. 'Surely we should seek help first in our own town, where men know and love the sons of Parganas.'

Agonas laughed, 'Know AND love the sons of Parganas? My dear brother, have you ever set foot beyond the castle walls?'

'You know that I have!' Pelas retorted.

'I mean, without the parades, spectacles and guardians - have you ever walked the streets like a man?' Agonas had hints of a smile on his cheeks.

Pelas gave no answer.

Agonas explained, 'Even you must know that gold does not grow on trees. From whence, then, does our father fill his treasure houses?'

Pelas swallowed hard, embarrassed that he had not hitherto given such matters any thought.

'You are wise, brother,' Agonas said sincerely, 'wise in many things - and wiser than me. But there is much that our mother has not seen fit to teach you.'

A fire seemed to kindle in Pelas' eyes, but Agonas spoke again before it spilled forth. 'Do not be angry brother; this trial is meant to kill one of us, and our father means it to be you.'

Pelas nodded, the anger turning into sadness, but his lack of protest was as good as an admission. He knew his father's heart well enough.

'But I will not let that happen,' Agonas said through clenched teeth. 'Too long have our parents made us fight against one another. We will show them the strength of their own blood; we will show them how we, who were born of the same womb, cannot so easily be divided.'

Just as Agonas had indicated, the brothers were met everywhere with resentful stares and hateful glances. Some, who understood the meaning of their departure from the palace, smiled broadly as the two marched to their fates. This was not the first time a prince of Alwan had been sent on a Doom Path, as such errands were called among the elves.

Agonas purchased supplies from one of the merchants at the edge of the city. Where he had acquired his gold was more than Pelas could imagine. Agonas seemed to know every corner of the city, and he knew the names of many of the merchants. When they had enough food and water to last them a week on the road, they left the city through the southern gate and made their way southwest toward Gihln.

'I thought you said we were going east,' Pelas said puzzled.

Agonas pointed his head toward the east. There stood the Great Hill, which rose up on the eastern side of Albori City like a fortress wall, with steep rocks and steep grassy slopes winding their way treacherously down toward the road.

'I see,' Pelas said, finally starting to take their journey seriously. 'You do not want to climb the Great Hill. A wise choice.' He smiled.

A full day later, when the brothers stood about a league to the north of Gilhn, they turned their faces toward the east and left the road behind them. They passed silently across the countryside, passing farms and small villages without notice. Nearly four days after they had left their father's side, the brothers entered the town of Fristan.

In Fristan they acquired horses; Agonas laughed when Pelas asked him, 'What was the price?'

Pelas worried that they had been stolen, and suspected that it was for this reason that Agonas hurried them through the eastern gate of Fristan the following morning.

The horses allowed them to carry more provisions, and they passed many villages and towns without so much as stopping to rest. It was a beautiful land, Pelas thought, 'It is a pity we have to pass through as strangers, and not in our own proper attire.'

'What attire is proper to man?' Agonas said, 'I am more comfortable in boots than I am in golden sandals.'

The brothers continued their journey for another two weeks before they at last approached the borders of Alwan. Pelas had grown so accustomed to the pounding of hoof on stone, the rise and fall of the horse's gait, and the gentle blowing of the wind in his face that it now seemed as though he had, for all this time, simply stood still, watching the world itself pass beneath his feet. They passed over the Alba River on a great stone bridge and entered the Marshlands.

The northernmost portion of the Marshlands was fair and dry. It was not until the waters of the Thedul River drew near to the Lushlin Lake that the land became swampy and uninhabitable. Pelas could scarcely contain his disappointment when his brother informed him that they would be passing through the southern Marshlands, and staying far away from the cities of the Upperland.

'Is this to evade the knowledge of the King's servants?' he asked, thinking such a motive hardly justified the difficult course.

'Why should we do that? If they are faithful to our father, why should they hinder us?' Besides, how would they know who we are? It is not as though we are going to call on our father's generals, or upon the noblemen, however few of them may perchance have seen us in our father's halls.'

'Then why do we make ourselves prey to mosquitos and flies?'

'We have both been princes for too long, brother,' Agonas said. 'We could both use a little toughening up; and there is no place like the Marshlands to sharpen one's skill.'

'And the vermin of the marshes and bogs will do this?' Pelas said.

'No. I would not bring us into the swamps just for that.'

'Then what?' Pelas demanded.

Agonas stopped and faced his brother, 'We have no hope of taking Sunlan on our own, and we cannot command any servant of our father on the basis of our parentage. We must raise a band of fighting men on our own. We must raise an army, brother.'

'And we shall find an army in these swamps?' Pelas said, looking out over the dismal landscape.

'In a manner of speaking,' Agonas answered.

'First, we will need a guide,' Agonas told his brother as they entered Alest, a small town of hunters and fishermen. They were still near enough to Alwan that some semblance of Parganas' rule could be discerned. No guide was to be found, however. 'The hunters know the land well enough,' one man had told them. 'But there are none for hire - least, not so far as I've heard.'

After receiving essentially the same response from a dozen or so others, the brothers pressed on, coming to a place called Gilwel.

At the Mudwine Inn they were told by one toothless old mortal to seek out the two sons of Lohi, who knew the swamps better than any other.

'Bralohi, the eldest, knows the secrets of Marshlands like no other. His word is taken as law by the huntsmen, who count on him for news of their prey. He knows the paths the deer tread, and he knows the dark places, where even the animals avoid.'

'Where can these two be found?' Pelas asked.

'South, south,' the old man said, pointing his finger over Pelas' shoulder.

'Should we trust the word of a mortal?' Pelas asked, causing the old man's face to turn red with anger.

Agonas laughed, 'Why not? What can he hope to gain from lying to us?'

'Now, just- ' the old man began to defend himself.

But Agonas interrupted him with a wave of his hand, saying, 'Brother, we will need to trust worse than this ere our task is complete. And the further to the east we go, the more mortals we shall come to depend upon. It is no secret,' Agonas lowered his voice to a whisper and spoke only to his brother, 'at least, it is no secret to us that the armies of the elves have never marched to victory on their own strength alone. It is said that 'the blood of man quickens the blood of the elves.'

'Where is such a thing said?' Pelas said, horrified. 'Certainly not in Alb-'

Agonas turned red and pulled Pelas out of the inn. 'It is certainly not said in Albori City, brother! But among the mortals, this is a proverb.'

'But the mortals have no memory of the Wars, they have only our father's histories.'

'Do they?'

Pelas looked confused.

'Do you really believe, brother, that they do not speak father to son, son to grandson? Do you think that they have not their own histories?'

Agonas could see the sweat forming on his brother's forehead.

'But in time, the histories must prevail,' Pelas said.

'We shall see what the histories say,' Agonas said, 'only if we survive long enough to write them ourselves. For this we must make alliances with such as can aid us.'

'And you think these huntsmen are the ones?' Pelas asked.

'It is not only hunters who make their homes in Gilwel,' Agonas said, 'The Marshlands are a good place to hide for all manner of criminals, rebels and sell-swords.'

Pelas turned as white as a ghost.

Kolohi

After refilling their water skins and replenishing their food stores, they left Gilwel by moonlight and made their way southeast along the road.

An old guard at the town's gate warned them against this, saying, 'By night there are naught but brigands to be found along that road.'

'Indeed?' Agonas said as they passed through the gates.

They went on in silence until the wooden gates of Gilwel vanished from their sight, leaving them alone in a silent swampland. Thin clouds slowly veiled the moon, casting them into almost complete darkness. Their going was slow now, and Pelas was beginning to feel fearful. His eyes darted around in the darkness, searching frantically for signs of danger. The swamps were teaming with creatures. Fish leaped into the night to snatch bugs from the air while frogs and birds, rats and snakes crept through the brush. On more than one occasion Pelas' horse lost its course and splashed into the filthy swamp water, scattering animals and mud in every direction. 'Ugh!' he cried, pulling hard on his horse's reins.

'Will you keep quiet!' Agonas hissed. 'Are you trying to summon every brigand in Marshland!'

Just then, a dark figure emerged from the night. With one swift motion he knocked Agonas from his horse. He groaned and disappeared into the darkness.

Another dark form approached Pelas, but he rolled off the side of his horse and onto the ground. He drew his sword and cut the figure down with one slash. Three more shadows drew near, each with drawn blades, shining under the moonlight. Pelas stabbed one, kicked the next into the bog, and disarmed the third, pulling him in front of his own body and placing the edge of his blade to his attacker's neck.

'If you have any honor at all you will cease this unprovoked attack, and save your comrade's life!' he called out with a regal tone to those who, he perceived, yet waited in the darkness.

He heard a sigh from somewhere ahead. A voice called out in frustration, 'If it weren't Falruvis I would send in a dozen men and make an end of you.'

Pelas remained silent as Agonas rose to his feet and looked around.

'What is the meaning of this?' Pelas asked, once his brother had returned to his side and drawn his sword. 'Who dares assail innocent travelers in the realm of Lord Parganas?'

The voice began to laugh. 'Innocent travelers?' it chuckled, 'If you are so innocent, why are you attempting the Bogs at midnight? Only a criminal, and a rather desperate one at that would try such a foolhardy thing!'

'Unless we were seeking the sons of Lohi,' Agonas said quickly.

The laughter stopped. A figure approached them, uncovering a small lamp. Soon other lamps appeared, and the brothers found themselves surrounded by armed men.

'Well, it looks as though we have caught ourselves some ghosts!' the man laughed.

Under the lamplight they could see that the person speaking to them was an elf, for his eyes betrayed a wisdom beyond that which belongs to humanity. His long brown hair was tied neatly behind his head. He wore a chain shirt and leather bracers on each forearm. He carried a drawn sword in his right hand that seemed to be on fire by reason of the light that fell upon it from his lamp.

'I am Kolohi,' he said bowing slightly. 'Forgive us, my lords, we knew not who it was that approached our lands.'

'You mean to tell me,' Pelas said, still holding the sword to his captive's neck, 'that you attack before you identify? What foolishness!'

'Foolishness, you say,' Kolohi said, nodding. 'But some might call it wisdom. You say the winter will come, my lord, because so it has always been. You prepare for it, that you do not get caught by it unawares. So it has been in this land; the brigands come from the north at night, and steal away our wealth.'

'Then you, who attack in the darkest hours of the night, are not brigands?' Pelas marveled.

'No, my lord, we are not.' He smiled broadly, 'The servants of Parganas are brigands, and they DO steal from us. They used to come by the main road, during the daylight. But we taught them better. Now they try to sneak through the swamps at night and carry off their taxes by stealth.'

'What nonsense is this?' Pelas demanded. 'The King's men, sneaking into swamp-sick villages during the night?'

'Foolishness, nonsense,' Kolohi said with a grin, 'yes, it is all nonsense. But that doesn't mean it isn't the truth. Does it?' he said, suddenly turning his attention to Agonas. 'You don't seem to be nearly as astonished as your brother, lord Agonas. Why is that?'

'Because I came here to find you,' Agonas said coldly. 'How can I be astonished in finding what I sought?'

'What do you want with me?' Kolohi asked.

'We wish to learn the passes of Gilwel and its swamps. We are going east.'

'We can take you as far as the Thedul River,' Kolohi said, 'But no more. I guess that, though you travel on the King's authority, you do not travel with it.' He clearly understood the meaning of their journey.

'We are going east,' Agonas said, 'but we do not merely want guides and passage.'

'Then-' Kolohi began.

'My father hates the men of Gilwel,' Agonas said. 'It will not be long before he summons his servants from the north and makes an end of your bravado.'

'Ah, yes, I might have expected this,' Kolohi laughed.

'You do not understand,' Agonas said, shaking his head. 'Revenue from the Marshlands has been steadily declining since you and your comrades began to withhold your duties. The very authority of Lord Parganas is openly mocked in these lands, even among the mortals, who ought to fear the elves as gods. This cannot stand. On the eve of next summer, if the lords of Thedua have not utterly destroyed you, then a great host of Albori men will march to your swamps. I do not believe you will be victorious.'

The details of the King's plan seemed to take the humor out of Kolohi's voice. 'What would you have from us, then?'

'You know why we have been sent forth,' Agonas said. 'Aid us; not as guides, but as comrades, and your people will never be taxed again, nor troubled by the Kingdom of Alwan. You yourselves, each one of you, will be nobles and lords, and given lands wherever you choose. Each of you will have an equal part in whatever treasures we acquire on our journey.'

Kolohi was silent for nearly a minute. Then, looking again at Pelas and his captive, he bellowed, 'Oh for the gods! Release the boy!'

Agonas nodded and Pelas let his captive go.

Falruvis was small and thin; he could be no older than fifteen years of age.

'His father would never forgive us if something were to happen to him,' Kolohi said.

'And the others?' Agonas said, looking at the man Pelas had slain.

'Only mortals,' Kolohi shrugged.

Bralohi

Bralohi was more reserved than his brother Kolohi.

Kolohi had laughed when he discovered the sons of Parganas, but Bralohi seemed truly to pity them, especially Pelas, who seemed so wholly unfamiliar with the ways of his own kingdom. 'Lord Parganas knows the troubles that beset his eastern provinces,' Bralohi thought to himself, when he was told that the princes of Alwan were being brought to him. 'Why then should his prince remain so ignorant?'

'Unless,' and Bralohi felt sick as he thought about it, 'he does not mean for him to survive the ordeal.' Then he shook his head, remembering the purpose of such tasks. 'We would be better off mortal,' he said as he reflected upon the cruel ways the elves manage their nobility. He could accept the practice in general, but when their father so clearly preferred one son over the other, it made him feel sorrowful.

'If we could just work ourselves into the graves like men, we would be a happier lot.'

Bralohi and his younger brother Kolohi were the eldest sons of Lohi, who ruled over perhaps the wettest and most perilous region of the Marshlands. In the ancient days their father had served in the army of Lord Parganas. His involvement was such that his services required some sort of reward, but not such that his reward should be great. He was not given, to make a comparison, South Lushing, the enormous flowered fields that lay between Lake Lushlin and Lake Brost. This region was given to Morakiba, the eldest son of fell Arakiba, who departed from Mount Vitiai with Azale in the previous age. Morakiba was said to have personally slain some five-hundred Immortals that day, and now he enjoyed his reward. Lohi killed but twenty-seven, including one of the chief captains of Adapann.

'For this he must receive something,' Lord Parganas had thought, 'But what else remains? There are too many heroes among the elves.'

So he decided to give him the Swamps, the wet, stinking bog that lies at the very heart of Bel Albor, between the Greater and Lesser forks of the Thedul River. But Lohi proved himself to be a cunning businessman, and an even more cunning politician. In time his influence came to extend beyond the rivers to the lands that lay to the east and west of his original reward. The town of Gilwel marked the northernmost reach of his arm.

In a kingdom of mortals it is inevitable that times of peril, draught, disease or war should deplete the treasuries, requiring their lords to levy taxes, confiscate the goods of their enemies and otherwise increase the wealth of the kingdom. But a prudent king, born among the immortal elves, if he plans well, will see naught but increase. It is hard to estimate just how much of the toil of men is consumed by planning for successions, inheritances, sicknesses and retirements. But among the elves this is not so.

'Lord Parganas has enough gold to fill a lake,' Lohi said, after some five-hundred years of heavy taxes. 'If he wishes still to collect from the Swamps what little we can conjure up from the soil, then he will pay for his gold with the red blood of his men.'

Lohi himself did nothing openly against Lord Parganas. Sworn to secrecy, his youngest sons departed from him with the charge that they defend the people of the Swamps first from Lord Parganas' tax collectors and later, when their rebellion was discovered, from his warriors and mercenaries. Lohi publicly denounced and condemned them, disowning and cursing their names. But it was well known in the Swamps and in Albori alike that this was naught but a charade - though it could not be proven to be such. In this way Lohi grew more powerful, all while remaining, by all official accounts, faithful to his old commander.

Gilso was a small village - an encampment one might justly call it - situated next to a small lake of fresh water. There were large nets cast over every window to keep the mosquitos from entering the houses, all of which more closely resembled tents built out of wood than anything Pelas had heard called a house before. The largest and finest of these belonged to Bralohi, who was commander over all the rebels.

The night following the arrival of the princes, he summoned his chief servants to a council.

His eldest son, Aebral, sat at his side, looking so much like his father that they could scarcely be discerned one from the other (a circumstance that, among humans, is prevented by the process of aging).

Falruvis was there, still young enough to be distinguished from his father Ruvis. Ruvis had a deep scar across his nose, which he had acquired during Lord Parganas' last battle against the Holy Mountain. Falruvis was his youngest son - his other children had all perished attempting tasks not unlike that on which the sons of Lord Parganas now embarked. There was an air of great importance about him; Ruvis looked uneasy and almost ashamed to be seated near him. He gave Pelas an awkward glance and swallowed hard.

It had never struck Pelas, until that moment, just how rare it is to be a youth among such ancient creatures. Though he was older and stronger than Falruvis, it was by a mere handful of years. In a short while (infinitely short in elvish reckoning) the two of them would pass into the ageless perfection of their countrymen, leaving the shortness of youth behind for an eternal prime. In that moment he suddenly pitied the boy, seeing how nervous he felt to be in the presence of his important father, as well as in the presence of the stranger who had captured him, and, as it were, demonstrated his inexperience to all of his companions.

'He feels,' Pelas thought, 'not at all unlike how I feel when Agonas mocks me.'

Bralohi made no introductions. He began the meeting by going over some less important matters concerning the portioning of food and the maintenance of their encampment. He made some arrangements with one of the elves concerning the mortals they employed.

'The mortals wear out,' the elf complained, 'in body as well as spirit. Death is an enemy we do not understand as they. He stalks their paths and shadows their steps every day of their lives. When their hair turns grey, then Death has his hands upon their throats. We cannot press them much further than this.'

Pelas suddenly grew interested. He had very little experience with humans. The palace servants were all immortal, and only on rare occasions did mortals enter the city of Albori, and then only as slaves or criminals to be executed.

'Are there many mortals in the Marshlands?' Pelas asked. As soon as the words departed from his mouth he realized how ignorant a question it was.

Agonas' face turned blood red and he stared at the wooden table with a hint of an embarrassed grin on his mouth.

Twelve elves sat in the council: Bralohi and Kolohi were seated at each end of the table, Ruvis and his son Falruvis were seated beside Aebral. Also facing Pelas and his brother sat an elf named Dalta, who had long black hair (an unusual trait among elves), and an enormous elf warrior named Ginat. Beside the princes a warrior named Sol sat with two others, who were introduced as Cheru and Oblis.

'You will find,' Bralohi said with almost a fatherly voice, 'that outside of Albori, the better part of your father's kingdom consists of mortal towns and villages. Most of the cities belong to the elves, but the farm-folk are almost all mortal men.'

Sol added (it was he who had spoken to Bralohi just before concerning the mortals), 'Mortal men are born with fell Death within their sight. This drives them to a degree of rashness that is not to be found among the elves. Among us a courtship of a hundred years is not altogether unheard of, and the children come here and there, scattered across the centuries like drops of rain in the desert. But for men, all the days of their lives are as their last days, and they live them in frantic pursuit of gratification.'

Pelas fell silent, envying for the first time the hours his brother Agonas had spent learning from his father.

After another hour of what Kolohi complained were 'small matters', Bralohi turned to Agonas. 'You told my brother that there would be a great army coming to this region by the time the summer heat is upon us. Is this true?'

'It is,' Agonas said confidently.

'And how many warriors will he send?' Bralohi asked.

Agonas hesitated for a moment, but Pelas began to speak, saying, 'My brother underestimates your peril, my lord. The Lord Parganas will not be content with anything less than absolute victory. He did not do what fell Azale failed to do because he was a weakling. He has not risen to act against you yet; but when he arises to address the rebellion of this region, it will be in full force. All the hosts of Alwan will be at the ready. He may have winked at the strife in the Swamps till now, but when he comes, be certain that he comes to slay and kill and destroy his enemies utterly.'

Fear appeared upon Bralohi's face at those words.

Agonas nodded in agreement. 'I learned the arts of war from Parganas himself,' he said. 'There is none like him, not in all Bel Albor. Take my brother's words to heart.

'What would you have us do? We are already traitors and outlaws. Our father, in word, disowns us. We cannot withstand such a force.'

'Then flee,' Agonas said. 'I have already told your brother what your reward will be.'

'Nonsense,' Ruvis interrupted. 'Master Bralohi, you are letting these pups, scarcely older than my stupid Fal, command your will! They shall not command mine.'

'Hold your peace, Ruvis,' Kolohi said in anger, 'How dare you take such a tone with your master's son!'

'My master does not recognize Bralohi, or Kolohi, as his son,' Ruvis said. 'We are equals here.'

Falruvis turned pale, looking at the hard faces of those who opposed his father.

Sol sighed and leaned over the table, 'Let us start from the very beginning. It is true that we are all equal, insofar as Lohi calls us - CALLS us - outlaws. But do not pretend, if in the end master Lohi wins the day, that you are the equal of his sons. They, though dishonorable now, shall be honored above all other elves.'

'And beneath his boots I suppose you shall be honored next,' Ruvis said, leaning back in his seat.'

'Enough,' Bralohi ordered. The room fell silent. Oblis had risen from his seat with clenched fists. 'I will not require your muscle, friend,' he told him. 'You doubt these men, Ruvis? So do I. They have everything to gain from such an 'offer', and little to lose. Consider their position; they are not heroes or conquerors yet, they have no real goods to offer us by way of trade. Only a promise - the wages of tomorrow's labor. We shall see what they make of themselves.'

Agonas made to open his mouth, but Kolohi shook his head.

Bralohi continued, 'I am not so foolish as to doubt a man's word, simply because a man stands to gain something from his claims. We shall see. You said that the might of Thedua would come against us first, and if that should fail, then Lord Parganas himself shall see to our destruction. If this is so, then we will wait until Thedua's men arrive. If they come against us in open war, so as to show the King of Alwan their competence, then we will believe that our time is spent, and we will follow you on your fool's errand, grateful to have escaped with our lives. But if summer comes with no threat from the north, then we will cut your throats and sink your bodies into the bogs.'

Pelas swallowed hard.

Agonas nodded and said, 'We agree; and in the meanwhile, we will do our utmost to serve you and your cause.'

This seemed to inspire some trust on Bralohi's part. The others would not gainsay him, and so it was agreed that, if war came, the people would follow the sons of Parganas into the east. But if war came not, then the sons of Parganas would be, 'cut in pieces, tortured, maimed and in every way treated like traitors, deceivers and devils.'

Later that night, when the whole camp had gone to sleep, Agonas whispered to his brother, 'Now, good Pelas, we must find a way to make our falsehood into a truth.'

[Chapter V:  
The Rise of Ilvas](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Mind and Arm

They were not long among the rebels of the Marshland ere the old prejudices began once more to arise within the minds of those who observed them. After the brothers had taken part in just two raids (for Bralohi's men were not content with denying Parganas his tribute; they exacted a levy of their own from his allies) Agonas was deemed the stronger, and Pelas the wiser of the two brothers.

In the first raid, Pelas had devised a rather cunning ambush, one which Agonas had also conceived, but taken just a moment longer to put to words. In the second raid, Pelas and Agonas fought just as bravely, but Agonas slew the warrior Unli, who was well known for his strength. Pelas was his brother's equal, but there was only one Unli and therefore no means for him also to prove himself.

This inequity of perception only perpetuated itself, as Bralohi deferred to Pelas for council and called for Agonas when strength and skill were needed. At times the brothers laughed about this, but at others they became fierce rivals. During one raid Agonas disregarded his brother's strategy and thereby saved the lives of some twenty men. Pelas, in response, fought his way to the fore during the next raid, and dueled three warriors at once.

'These men are both fit to be kings,' Bralohi told his brother.

'But there is only one throne in Albori,' Kolohi said, shaking his head. 'Kings, you say, does that mean we will follow them?'

'Not until we see whether Thedua comes or not. If their word is true, then Thedua will hasten to war with us. They will not want to appear weak in the eyes of their lord.'

But Autumn came without any sign or threat from Thedua. Ruvis grew openly impatient, though the thought that they might soon rid themselves of these two schemers forced a grin to split his face. Otherwise the rebels grew to esteem the brothers, and even to appreciate the fact that Lord Parganas was not some distant political blunderer, but rather a warrior and a strategist. 'I believe,' Sol told the others, 'that come Springtime, we shall be leaving the Swamps.'

Agonas had not been idle. In every raid he made certain that some subtle dishonor was paid to Lord Parganas' authority. It was as simple as the tearing of a banner, or the slaying of a nobleman, or the taking of some booty that was meant for trade with Albori. In secret he sent threatening messages to the lords of Thedua, telling them that the Swamps would not have them nor Parganas as a master any longer. Pelas did his own part by commanding the rebels so acutely and so cunningly that they began to appear more like a military and less like bandits in the eyes of the people of the Marshlands.

By midwinter the first sign of open war came to the Swamps. A messenger appeared, accompanied by two hundred armed warriors. He spoke in the name of Lord Kasdeia of Thedua and Lord Abrion of Nassa, telling the people of the Swamps, 'Make no mistake, Lord Parganas rules these lands. If the sons of Lohi, along with all their cohorts, do not surrender and plead the mercy of their master, the lords of Thedua and Nassa shall fall upon them with the rage that, in ancient days, fell upon the quarreling hosts of mankind.' It was, of course, chiefly to the mortals of Marshland that this message was delivered. Their fear of death, Lord Kasdeia hoped, would keep them from foolishly risking their lives in support of Lohi's sons.

This new development was sufficient, it seemed, to impress upon the rebels the truth of Pelas' and his brother's warning.

'We cannot wage war with Lord Parganas,' Bralohi said reluctantly when again the elves met for council, this time without the sons of Parganas. 'If he presses his weight upon us we shall be crushed like grapes.'

'What then?' Ruvis demanded, 'Are we to follow these pups to their dooms? You know, Bralohi, all too well I think, the reasons for their exile.'

Kolohi rose to his feet with murder in his eyes when he heard those words.

Bralohi laughed. 'Calm yourself, brother. Ruvis speaks true enough. This band of rebels and our conflict with Thedua is our Doom Path, even as the conquest of Sunlan belongs to the princes of Alwan.'

Ruvis straightened himself in his seat and addressed the council. 'Bralohi, you and your brother were taught the histories of Lord Parganas, even as these youths have been instructed. But I was there; I saw the Mountain of Life when yet there was life upon those rocks. I fought against the gods in those days with your father at my side. We marched beneath the banner of Lord Parganas with all the same promises in our hearts. Lands, honors, liberties - whatsoever a man might desire. There was nothing he would withhold from us if we marched to war. Yet here we stand, his own sons before us, tempting us to put our necks under a new yoke, as if the yoke of their father were not heavy enough. And was the word of their father was not false enough that we need new lies to replace it?'

'I will not go back on what I have said,' Bralohi answered. 'We will follow the sons of Parganas to their fates. But whether we follow them or no, we must depart from the Swamps, and leave my father to his own cunning. Thedua comes, and after them, Parganas; we can shield him from his duties to Albori no longer.'

Kolohi nodded and asked, 'Where will a band such as ours find a haven? We are, as of now, vagabonds and exiles, what difference does it make, then, if we cast our lots with the sons of Parganas or no? At the very least, if we help them, we shall put them in our debt. If not, then we have as much to fear from their success as we do should they fail despite our aid.'

After an hour of debating whether this or that region of Bel Albor would accommodate their band of fugitives, Sol called for a decision.

All but Ruvis chose to follow the course that Bralohi had described, putting their lives into the hands of Pelas and Agonas.

'My only solace,' Ruvis told his son as they left the council, 'Is that in all likelihood I shall not live to regret this night. For the dead have no regrets.'

'Is it as hopeless as you describe?' Falruvis asked, with a hint of fear in his voice.

Ruvis sighed, and then he spoke the words of one of the Theduan wise men, 'Have hope so long as you live, for you do not know what the gods may give.' But Falruvis could tell that he did not truly believe what he had said.

Within a week Bralohi, his elf captains and some five-hundred mortal men departed from the Swamps and began the journey into the eastern marches of Alwan.

Ambush

As it turned out, the sons of Lord Parganas knew their father's will better than they had thought. When the company had been on the eastward road for no more than three days, they were approached by a mortal man on horseback.

'What is your name and business?' Sol demanded, as he, Cheru and Kolohi surrounded the man, weapons drawn.

'I am an ally, I am the son of Erlun, who was once a servant of yours. Though you fought at the request of Lord Lohi, we mortals have never failed to recognize how much was done on our behalf by his brave sons. But I am come to warn you: a great host marches south along the Thedul River, and scouts and spies have been sent ahead to find you.'

'Spies such as yourself?' Cheru said, suspiciously.

'I am no spy,' he said flatly. 'My father suffered many wounds for your sake, and my elder brother gave his life for the sons of Lohi. Shall I betray them now?'

Sol nodded, 'We thank you for the warning, son of Erlun, the warriors are preparing to make camp. If you make haste you shall have no trouble finding a tent among them ere darkness falls.'

'But I must hasten back to my master, Lord Otha, who you know to be loyal to the sons of Lohi. It was he that sent me here on this matter.'

Sol smiled slightly and then, quicker than a gale, he drew his sword and killed the man, knocking him from his horse. Without thought or feeling the three descended upon the corpse and stripped it of anything valuable: Three pieces of gold, a silver chain and a short sword. 'Send a man out later to burn the body and cast the bones into the bog,' Kolohi said. 'Return to your master indeed,' he laughed. 'Do they truly think we are as foolish as that? Return, yes, return with news of our location!'

Two days later they came to the River Thedul and found that the bridge was under heavy guard. 'They are not Theduan,' Bralohi said as he peered at them from behind a great rock, his sharp eyes having no need for a looking glass.

Pelas peered over and saw that, indeed, there stood some fifty armed men, garbed, not as soldiers of the north, but as the militiamen of Lohi.

'Is it some kind of ruse?' Pelas asked.

'Perhaps,' Bralohi answered. 'It may be Theduans in Swampland garb, or it may be the servants of my father making a show of it for Lord Kasdeia's sake. Or they may just be brigands.'

'Like us,' Pelas said flatly.

Bralohi smiled.

'The latter two possibilities I do not fear,'Bralohi said. 'If they are my father's men, then they will let us pass untroubled. And if they are brigands, well, you know as well as I who has the greater number. But if they are soldiers of Thedua, then we have come into an ambush.'

'It is even as the son of Erlun spoke,' Sol said, 'They have come down Thedul upon the Southerly road, and cut us off.'

'That is impossible,' Bralohi said, 'Unless they sent a force before their messengers had even come.'

Pelas looked at his brother. Agonas smiled - their cleverly devised tale had not been a lie after all. Lord Parganas had indeed commanded Lord Kasdeia and his northern allies to press hard against Lohi's rebellion. Bralohi turned to the princes, 'We should have believed you,' he said soberly. 'I apologize.'

Pelas offered him his arm and they clasped one another's forearms as friends. 'Now let us see what we can do about this rabble.' Pelas now spoke as if the handshake itself had transferred the authority of command from the son of Lohi to himself. 'They are most certainly men of Thedua,' he continued. 'For brigands would not stand guard in this manner. Nor are they your father's servants, for they would have sought you out by other means, and not lain in wait like this. But they do clearly wish you to believe them to be such.'

Pelas took a moment to think. 'What is the lay of the land?' he asked.

'We are but three leagues from the Turtle, where the mighty Thedul River is broken in twain, swallowing the Swamps and encircling the dominion of our father.'

'Then we are not, properly, within the Swamps of Lohi, where your father's authority cannot be challenged.'

'Correct,' Kolohi replied. 'His influence extends far beyond his rightful borders, as I and Bralohi have evidenced. But, thinking upon it, I do not think he would send a force to aid us this far to the north.' He squinted in the sunlight as he spoke, giving the guardians upon the bridge a more careful look.

'Then it is an ambush,' Pelas said. 'And I am certain that they have sent out spies to find us.'

'And find us they shall,' Sol said. 'For no man can hide a force such as ours in this place.'

'Yet they will not dare to fight us in the wilds themselves. They will try to draw us into the open, by means of some ruse or another.'

'What shall we do then?' Bralohi said, now fully sounding like the servant rather than the master.

'We must draw them into the bushes and thorns, and drown them in the bogs. For nobody knows these lands and how to battle therein better than Bralohi's men.'

'If these men are soldiers, then what you suggest is impossible,' Ruvis said, speaking for the first time.'

'How is it impossible, if they be men?' Pelas asked. 'To get men to do whatsoever it is that you will, you merely need to find the right motivation.'

For a moment the men looked at him as though they were afraid.

Agonas grinned, as if for the first time recognizing Pelas as his own brother. There was such a calculating tone in his voice that they were convinced in that moment that he was capable of anything.

Figures and Angles

For the rest of that day Pelas led the rebels in groups through the surrounding bogs. As he happened upon certain places he would call the men to a halt, inspect the terrain carefully, and then, if it seemed fitting, he would leave some men behind to lay in wait. Each group was instructed to defend their hiding place in a certain manner, and to flee the moment their defenses were overrun.

When evening was nigh, Pelas and his brother, along with Cheru, Oblis, Ginat and twenty other men rode up to the bridge and slew ten of its guardians. When the whole company was alerted, they departed and vanished into the swamplands like a storm wind.

Just as they had expected, a much greater force appeared from the north and from the south, bearing the colors of Thedua, green and blue banners waving in the air. As soon as they had entered the wilds and bogs the rebels broke company, each taking a separate path into the swamp.

Confident in their numbers alone, the Theduans pursued, thinking their enemies would lead them back to their encampment. But they found it impossible to stay together in those lands, as the paths through the swamps and stones were very narrow and difficult.

Here, and again there, the rebels set the plan of Pelas into action. In each place the rebels had the advantage of terrain, and instructions from their new captain regarding the best use of their environment. Whether it was a simply matter of keeping to the southern face of a great rock, so the enemy could not swing their right arms without exposing themselves to attack, or taking up positions such that a small number of men could encircle a greater host and rain down arrows upon them, the rebels did as they were told, and made such a slaughter that it seemed the swamp itself was wounded and bleeding.

In the end the Theduans drew back, gathered their wounded and left the Swamps, bearing the tale of their defeat to their masters. 'Ere any retaliation can be made,' Bralohi said, 'we shall be far from these lands.'

'And into more perilous circumstances, no doubt,' Ruvis complained.

'Indeed,' Bralohi nodded. 'But can you not tell, friend, that there is something of destiny within these two young men?'

Fallen Fortress

If one were to follow the course of the River Esse into the Far North, he would find a great fortress built in the frozen pine forest of Esathann. In ancient times this fortress marked the southern border of a mortal kingdom, the name of which history has forgotten altogether. When the goblins came, and the land froze, the kingdom was abandoned.

Lord Parganas had partially restored this fortress after his conquest of Bel Albor, thinking he might use it as a shield against the northern goblins. But the expense of maintaining the outpost was greater than he had expected. He judged that the harsh terrain itself was sufficient to discourage goblin invasions. In time the northern forest grew about and swallowed the fortress whole, so that from Alwan no sign of the fortress could be seen.

Among the mortals it had become a place of legend, and rash souls would travel there to see if they might perchance bring back some trinket as evidence of their foray into goblendom. By now, however, nearly all the treasure had been taken away by the goblins, who prize things that shine as much as their human neighbors.

It was to this fortress now that the rebels made their way, passing swiftly through the eastern marches of Alwan to the banks of the Esse River. From thence they traveled north in small companies, passing through those empty lands unnoticed and untroubled. At last they came to the edge of Esathann, where towering pine trees rose up into the air like the spears of an enormous guard.

They made camp at the edge of the forest, felling a dozen trees and building great bonfires for warmth. Winter was fast approaching - indeed, in the land bordering the Far North it had already arrived. By now the men had grown accustomed to meager rations and cold nights in cloth tents. The rickety wooden houses in their camp south of Gilwel now seemed to their memories like the warm walls of a log cabin. But they could not go back, for all the Upperlands were against them. 'Our father Lohi will sue for peace, claiming that he had nothing to do with us. He will pay his tribute, and live,' Bralohi thought to himself. 'But we cannot return.'

The next morning, the sons of Parganas led their captains into the forest to seek out the fortress. 'It is built along the river,' Agonas told them, 'So if we keep the water to our right, we will find it without trouble.'

This was very nearly incorrect. It was, as he said, built along the river, but it had become so overgrown and broken down that it took some time before the men discerned the stones of the fortress from the rocks and trees of the natural landscape. 'Goblins have been here,' Ruvis said, shaking his head as he examined the ground.

'Goblins?' Bralohi asked, 'How can you tell?'

'These stones have been chipped so as to sharpen the edges,' Ruvis explained. 'See here, there is blood on the edge.'

Pelas came and looked at the large stone. 'What is the purpose of such a thing?'

'It is a weapon,' Ruvis replied impatiently. 'They throw them at their enemies or at their prey. The sharpened edge pierces the flesh and breaks the bones. This blood is not that old, by the look of it.'

'But where is the body, if there has been a battle?' Pelas asked.

'Goblins do not leave bodies to rot in the open, whether they be bodies of beasts or of their own kin. To them there is living flesh and there is food, it matters not from what creature it comes. Especially,' he added with a shiver and a curse, 'in this barren devil's land.'

'Devil's land?' Agonas laughed. 'You mean the Old Dragon?'

'This is, they say, the land in which he deceived the Ancients,' Ruvis explained.

'Or enlightened them,' Pelas added, 'as some stories recount.'

Ruvis grunted. 'Think what you will about the Dragon. But this is an evil land; it lies dead and barren. Why do we come here, to the land where nothing can live?'

'You contradict yourself, Ruvis,' Pelas said sternly. 'You have already conceded that the goblins dwell in the Far North. How is it then, that you think the sons of Lord Parganas, and the sons of Lohi, and the mighty rebels of the Swamplands have not the strength you grant to the stupid brutes?'

'Call them not stupid,' Ruvis said scoldingly.

Pelas and his brother laughed.

'I alone among us have battled these creatures. In the old days, when Lord Parganas defended his kingdom from all enemies, it was I, along with many older elves, that fought them in this country.'

'Not in this country, old friend,' Bralohi said. 'You fought in the west. We should not judge this land on the account of circumstances four hundred leagues to the east. Remember, there was once a strong kingdom of human beings that dwelt here.'

'And a lot of good this land brought them!' Ruvis scowled.

'Father,' Falruvis interrupted.

Ruvis turned and looked at his son, whose face was red with anger. 'You have told me many tales concerning your deeds against the ape-men. If half of them are true, we shall have little to fear.'

Ruvis slapped him with the back of his hand; the others turned away, so as not to see the youth's embarrassment. Ruvis drew close to his son's face and hissed, 'Don't ever oppose me in council, son. Do you think I am somehow above the methods of my countrymen, who send their sons away on Doom Paths for lesser insults.'

'You have no authority to send him away,' Pelas said, stepping between them. 'He, along with your whole band, are now sworn to the service of the King's sons.'

'On a Doom Path there are no King's sons,' Ruvis hissed.

'No indeed. But hear me, Ruvis,' and Pelas seemed to grow almost divine as he spoke. 'When the light streaks across the sky, you know what is to follow; though you be no more than a swamp-soaked fool you know to expect the thunder.' His voice almost began to sound like the thunder as he spoke. 'Even so, I, who have been raised by a King and Queen, gods among the gods themselves, and slayers of the lords of Mount Vitiai - I can see farther than you. I am already a king. Nay, I am more.'

Ruvis looked at him with fear in his eyes, and said nothing more.

Bralohi thought to himself, 'Is that fate itself I discern in this young man's voice?'

The reach of Lord Parganas had shortened in the many years that had passed since his first conquest. Though he had on many occasions proved himself willing to fight to maintain the borders his first bloody wars had established, there were still a great many places within Alwan where men could live entirely free from his influence. The utter East and the Far North, the Jagged Lands in the northwest, and the coast of the Great Lake in the south, were almost completely free of his policy. To these lands flocked the greater part of the mortal men, who wished to live out their lives undisturbed by their elvish masters.

In the northeast marches of Alwan there were a great many such peoples. The Essenes, who lived along the coast of Esse herself, the Knariss, who dwelt in the south near the shores of the Great Lake Brost, and the Lupith, who had settlements scattered throughout the region. It is this latter people from which the Lapulians are said to have descended. So it is said among the elvish historians, at least.

This is a lie, however, as the Magic Tower of Lapulia had already been erected and the walls of Old Lapulia already built. What kinship these Lupith bear to the Lapulians is not greater than that kinship which all men bear one to the other.

Freedom was something that existed to a greater extent the further one lived from Albori. Even as freedom enlarged, however, security diminished. The same sword that gathered the taxes cut down the goblins and kept law and peace. In these lands there was little government, and therefore even less peace.

The following day the camp was taken down and the rebels disappeared under the cover of the trees. They made their way north toward the fortress, clearing a road as they went. The rotted front gate was battered down and a new one was hastily constructed. 'We shall do better than this,' Pelas explained, as Ruvis looked at the makeshift door in horror. 'It will be better to have a temporary defense of limited strength than to put our trust in this battered old gate.'

The whole forest seemed to come to life with the coming of the rebels. There were hammers pounding, axes chopping, and the constant hum of saws filling the air. The small, northern gate was in good repair; Pelas permitted it to remain, saying, 'We will make a better, but for now we have more pressing renovations to undertake.'

Indeed, there was a portion of the western wall that had been all but battered down, perhaps during some ancient siege, now forgotten by all peoples. There were so many vines growing upon the wall that it would be easy even for a man to scale the whole structure. 'The goblins will pass over these walls with no difficulty whatsoever,' Ruvis warned. He was then given the task of overseeing their removal.

Camp was made in a large courtyard that stood between the river and the fortress. 'Here, at least, we have only to fear attack from the north and from the south,' Pelas judged.

The following morning the work began with the sunrise. All the axes, hammers and saws started up almost in unison, waking Pelas and his captains from their uneasy slumber. Every man was set to work, save for those who had kept watch during the night. When the sun was fully risen, Pelas and his brother entered the Fortress, along with Ruvis, his son Falruvis, Bralohi and Sol. Dalta was left in command of those who labored on the outside.

'Tell me, Ruvis,'Pelas ordered, 'If you see any sign that goblins have been here.'

'There is little in this place,' he replied, 'that does not speak of goblins.'

Indeed, there were several small, manlike skeletons with gnaw-marks upon the bones as though they had been eaten where they lay. There were several broken swords and stone weapons lying about. There was filth everywhere.

'It is clear that the last residents of this place were not men,' Ruvis said, sniffing the air. 'But the goblins that dwelt here have left many years ago. This room has been untouched for many generations.'

They continued past the entry hall by torchlight, lighting torches on the wall where they were able. There were bodies of both men and goblins strewn about the fortress, but all of them had been reduced to bones and dust by time. The only sign of life came from a rather robust population of rats and other vermin, who screeched and fled at the approach of the elf warriors.

'The place is foul,' Pelas said, 'but it will do for our purposes.'

'Besides,' Agonas mused, 'We shall not be here long; a few centuries at the most.'

The elves laughed, knowing how such words would sound to those mortal men who, as they spoke, labored outside in the forest for their sakes.

'We will need to trade with the people of eastern Alwan; lumber will be our most plentiful resource no doubt. We must bring women here, so that the number of our servants might increase. In time we will have a nice little kingdom here, and, then we can see to the matter of Sunlan. If we are careful to conceal our numbers it is likely that they will think nothing of us until the day we march against them from the north.'

The North Rises

In time the fortress was restored, trade was begun with the Knariss of Alwan, women were purchased from among the Lupith (the Essenes took no part in such transactions), and several battles with the goblins of the north were fought. By the time a generation had passed, it was known by all that a new power had come to the forest of Esathann. Even in Albori itself it was rumored that a rival king had arisen in the east.

Lord Parganas wondered whether it might be his sons or not. However, Lady Aedanla was certain that it was her Pelas who now seemed to rise up to threaten the authority and supremacy of Lord Parganas.

The Far North was a place Lord Parganas dared not enter, even to quell a potential threat to his own dominion. 'Many wars have been fought in those frozen lands, and never has anything good come of it,' he reasoned. 'Let them be, and we shall do well. But let them enter my borders - then blood shall turn the Esse to crimson.'

By now the leadership of Pelas was unquestioned, and even Ruvis seemed to have accepted him. Agonas' reputation diminished in the sight of the others, though his renown in battle was not in any way affected. Whatever the others thought or said, however, Pelas sought his council first in every matter, trusting him more than any other of his captains.

The new kingdom, as it arose in a land inhabited almost entirely by mortal men, became known, at first, simply as the Kingdom of Elves. By the time two hundred years had passed the name had become Ilvas, and now few mortals remember the origin of the word.

The many adventures that the goblins of that land occasioned gave the brothers ample opportunity to demonstrate their wisdom and their might. And though they were equal in both, the ancient prejudices forbid that Agonas be honored for his wisdom or that Pelas be known for his might with the sword. To the people of Knariss, Lupith and Esse they together became known as the Mind and Arm of Ilvas.
[Chapter VI:  
The Steelsmith](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Of Sunlan

'Coming from the Far North,' Bralohi began his report, 'the Talon Mountains stretch from the edge of the eastern Esathann forest some one-hundred and eighty leagues. In the middle of Sunlan it divides into three long ranges, which, when mapped, resemble the talons of a great bird. Three rivers flow from these three talons, the Westalon, the Midthalon and the Estalon. The Westalon carves its path westward from the Talon Mountains, curving after some sixty leagues or so and finding its way south - to the Great Lake.

At its westernmost point is built the Palace of Sunlan. A great fortress lies to the west of the city, and a great many watch towers and battlements stand to the north and south. The palace itself, however, has no defenses; as though the builders thereof found its beauty to be such that it would be profane to sully its visage with stone.'

'Is it so beautiful?' Pelas asked, looking at his brother, who sat beside him on a stone chair in the main hall of Ilvas Fortress.

'It is more fair than Albori, my lord,' Bralohi said. He paused, and added, 'Of course, your father built his palace out of the stones of Vitiai, and there is a beauty in such signs of power.'

'Don't worry about my father's house, Bralohi. If Sunlan Palace is greater than Albori, then it is greater than Albori. I will not have you dilute the truth for the sake of my father's pride.'

'Of course, my lord,' Bralohi said.

'What of the eastern lands,' Agonas asked, turning his attention to Kolohi, who stood beside his brother, waiting to deliver his own report.

'It is some seventy leagues from Sunlan to the Centan Bridge, which spans the Midthalon River, and yet another sixty leagues or so from thence to the Estalon. This land is called the Preylands, as it seems to be held fast in the talons of stone, which descend upon the land from the North. Another thirty leagues and one comes to the coast of Sunlan, and there lies the Great Waters, over which no eye can see. They have a large port there called Evnai, so named for their goddess.'

'Goddess?' Pelas asked with great surprise.

'The mortals of Sunlan are kin of the Essenes, who live along the shores of Esse. There are a great many of these men living also in the wastes that lie north of Westalon, between the Talon Mountains and the Esse. It is said that there was once a kingdom here; by the stories I judge that it was an elven kingdom. It was probably founded by a deserter from Azale's ranks. But the queen of that land, they say, was a goddess of terrible power. But she was spurned by her betrothed, who found love in the arms of a mortal woman. It is said that she departed from these lands upon a great ship, seeking the secret of beauty in the Far South - in a land called Kharku. She never returned, but her memory survives in the legends and tales of Sunlan. The elven lords, who rule over these sorry mortals, have taken full advantage of this story in their religious ceremonies and traditions.'

'You are a thorough scout, Kolohi,' Agonas said, seemingly growing tired of the whole affair.

'He fancies himself a scholar,' Bralohi laughed.

Kolohi's face turned red and he smiled. 'A scholar may perchance make the best sort of scout.'

'I do not doubt it,' Pelas nodded.

'What can you tell me of the politics of the land?' Pelas asked, ignoring his brother's disinterest.

'Sunlan is ruled by an elf called Ijjan. He and his wife are both silver-haired, like our dear Ruvis and Falruvis. Together they have some sixteen sons and fifteen daughters-'

'Sixteen!?' Agonas burst out, suddenly taking interest.

'For elves, of course, there is time for such a feat, but rarely the will,' Kolohi said. 'But it is not altogether unheard of, even in the land of Alwan.'

'But that is a lot of swords,' Agonas said. 'A lot of avengers, should we make an attempt at the throne.'

'Do not enter the city before you arrive at the gates, brother,' Pelas warned. 'We have just begun our spying and scouting, but you talk already of conquest?'

'That is our goal,' he replied. 'And if such a difficulty besets us at the end, we may as well mind it at the beginning, when we have time to mind it.'

'There is something else that concerns us, my lords,' Kolohi said, interrupting their argument. 'They have something they call 'Steel'.'

'Steel?' Pelas said, furrowing his brow. Agonas looked at Kolohi with great interest.

'It is a metal much stronger than our iron. We saw it fashioned into weapons by the smiths while we were in Sunlan.'

'Where do they acquire this substance?' Pelas asked.

'They say, from the Dwarves,' Bralohi answered.

'Dwarves?' Pelas snorted, 'You mean from the little ape-men, from the stories?'

'See the blades yourself, my lord, and you will call them no longer ape-men. They are brutes to be sure, from what I hear. But they have a cunning in metal and in fight that is unsurpassed. The king himself bears a blade forged by dwarves, they say. Unijan, his eldest son, also has such a blade, and a whole suit of armor made from the same dwarf-steel. He is the chief protector of Sunlan. Even the princess, Indra, has a crown of dwarf-steel-'

'Indra?' Agonas said, suddenly becoming interested again. 'Who is this Indra?'

'She is the youngest of their daughters, born only nineteen years ago,' Kolohi answered. 'But it is said that her beauty is such that her sisters, though goddesses all, look like swine beside her.'

'Is this true?' Agonas marveled.

'Who can tell, my lord?' Kolohi chuckled. 'It is not as though they show the Diamond of Sunlan to every traveler and brigand who crosses the Midthalon!'

Pelas looked at his brother, 'Agonas, we must consider these things further. Our first concern shall be this new material. We must learn more of this dwarf-steel; for our attacks are vain if they pierce not the enemy's armor, and our armor vain if it stops not the enemy's blade.'

Among the Essenes

Some believed that the Essenes had elvish blood in them, but if they did, it was not so much that their lives were extended overlong.

Their lore masters said that they had descended from an immortal named Adann and his consort, Evann. These two, for despising the father of the gods, were expelled from the Far North (which they believe is lush and full of life).

Their ancestors made their way south, naked and ashamed, finally coming to live among the other peoples of Bel Albor. Their blood mingled and in time the Essenes were born.

They had lived along the shores of the great river Esse for many ages. It is my own opinion that some descendant of Maelani, the last daughter of Adapann and Avann was their first parent, and the stories this ancestor recounted regarding the old king and queen of Mount Vitiai became the basis of the Essene Adann and Evann. But all of this is lost to history, and must be accepted only as conjecture.

The Essenes seemed to fit the land unlike any other people before them. They thrived regardless of what pestilence or violence spread through Alwan and its surrounding territories. They filled their cities along the Esse, spilling over into the east lands. Ultimately, however, the eastern Essenes were brought under the dominion of Ijjan, a rebel elf of the same kindred as Ruvis. Though the Essenes were great lovers of freedom, they bore their captivity stoutly, and served their masters faithfully. In the north, between the Talon Mountains and the Esse, there was still a great number of Essenes who, though nominally submitted to Sunlan, carried on with their lives as though they were altogether free men.

Pelas took this to be a sign that Sunlan was, perhaps, weaker than they had supposed, not being able to compel these people to serve their will. This, however, was far from the truth. Ijjan was good to them, or, at the very least, not cruel, and so they served him faithfully and without complaint.

Some two-hundred and eleven years after they restored the Fortress in Esathann, Pelas and his brother departed once again into the world in the guise of commoners. They were convinced that they must learn more about this land against which they were destined to fight, and they knew that the knowledge would be most useful to them if it came from their own experience.

On the eve of Spring they departed; a chilly, unwelcoming day for such a journey. The clouds threatened rain, and the wind still carried much of winter's bite. 'Our return shall be more pleasant,' Agonas said as they wrapped their cloaks around them.

They rode swiftly and easily upon the Ilvas Road, which their own servants had paved with quarried stones nearly a century ago. It showed more signs of age now than its elvish designers, who rode across it still in the flower of perpetual youth. There was a guard tower built at the southern edge of the forest where, much to Pelas' satisfaction, the two travelers were waylaid and questioned. 'Forgive me,' the mortal guards pleaded upon seeing the face of their king.

'Never you mind that,' Pelas said. 'If you had not stopped us I would have had you killed upon a pike.'

The man's face turned white.

Pelas laughed. 'But for your diligence you shall be honored.' He took from his purse a gold coin and handed it to the man, who was still thanking him and weeping when the King of Ilvas had passed from sight around a bend in the road.

'You waste our gold, brother,' Agonas said, shaking his head.

'Why? For blessing those who serve us for work well done?'

'He is a mortal; you might as well cast the money into a well.'

'So you say. But, for the present at least we cannot get by without the labor of mortals. Not every elf has, what, sixteen sons and almost as many daughters?'

Agonas laughed.

They traveled the rest of that day under an ominous sky, stopping to rest and restore their provisions in Noltus, a city of the Lupith. There they were met by Cheru, Oblis and Ginat, who were to accompany them on their journey. They passed the night in one of the nicer inns and crossed the Esse at first light. The rising sun seemed to carry the Spring on its rays, warming the air and chasing away the clouds.

'We chose a good day to enter Sunlan, brother,' Agonas said. 'It comes alive to greet us.'

'This is not Sunlan proper,' Pelas said. 'These are free lands.'

'Free lands who swear allegiance to Ijjan,' Agonas reminded him.

'Even as the Lupith and Knariss are sworn to our father.' Pelas snorted, 'These Essenes seem to be sworn to both Ijjan and Parganas, according to their geography.'

Agonas laughed. 'Soon they shall swear only to us.'

Pelas pulled hard upon his reigns, and let the others walk out of earshot before he spoke. 'Have you forgotten, brother?' There was something cruel in the emphasis he put on that last, filial word. 'Have you forgotten your oath?'

Agonas almost seemed to whimper. 'Of course not, Pelas. The throne is yours; I shan't take that away from you. I only mean to be at your side when you come into the sovereign power.'

Pelas seemed to remember his brother's long faithfulness. He sighed, 'Good; I should not want any other.'

The northern region of Sunlan was anything but a waste, as Kolohi had called it. 'Spring changes many things,' Agonas noted, looking at the gently hills of grass that stretched out before them, uninterrupted by any harshness or difficulty. The road came swiftly to an end; there was a small town of mortal peasants, apparently passing their days in anticipation of the warmer weather that would soon bring traders and merchants from Sunlan and Alwan alike. 'It is marvelous,' Agonas chuckled, 'How little the elves of Albori know of their own economy.'

'The hall and the eyes of Lord Parganas are very far from here,' Pelas said. 'And it is all the better for our purposes.'

'What do you mean?' Agonas asked.

'We have set out on a Doom Path, brother, you know that as well as I. It is so called because men are not meant to return therefrom. But what if one should return? What then? Shall Lord Parganas, slayer of the gods, bow down to us?'

Agonas' face looked somber and he said nothing. 'Have you no faith in him; your own father?'

'You know him better than I,' Pelas said, the resentment in his voice unhidden.

'He would not turn back on his word; not when he had given it to Aedanla, our mother.'

They journeyed eastward across endless dunes of green grass for nearly three days ere they saw any sign of human occupation. They found a broken down wooden fence and, following it, they came upon a small farmhouse. Calling upon the bewildered farmer's wife, they learned that there was a road some ways to the south, in a town called Tinot. Agonas looked darkly upon the old woman, seeing the lines in her face. He sniffed. 'Is that steel?' he asked, looking at some tools that hung from the wall.

'Goodness, no,' she said, trying not to laugh at the strangers. She had seemed quite afraid of them at first, apparently having been under the impression that these visitors were there to rob and plunder. After hearing them ask such questions, however, she seemed to relax, accepting their story about traveling from the foot of the Talon Mountains. 'Mountain men,' she thought to herself.

She explained, 'They have stronger things in the south, where the army is kept. That is what my husband tells me at least. He has seen the palace, once before.'

'Is the palace as nice as the tales say?' Pelas asked her.

'Nicer. Or so my husband says.' She was clearly growing weary with their presence. It seemed as though she hoped her repeated mention of her husband would frighten them away. 'If he is half as old as she,' Agonas thought, 'we would have very little to fear.'

'The elves of Sunlan must keep themselves altogether out of the sight of these mortals,' Agonas said to his brother as they followed the woman's directions to Tinot and the southward road, 'if she can think the gods can be frightened by a farmer!'

The Forge

Tinot was so small that it could scarcely be considered a village. The travelers stopped here only to purchase some food and get further direction. Kolohi and Bralohi had given them a roughly drawn map and described the land sufficiently well for them to find their way without such directions, but it seemed to Pelas that the presence of five elf warriors would arouse less suspicion if they seemed to be earnest travelers. It was their intention to make their way to a place where steel could be seen, and then, from thence, to see the rest of the kingdom with their own eyes.

In Ghestus, some seventy leagues to the north of Sunlan Palace, they were informed of a smith who was as skilled in the forging of steel as any other elvish craftsman.

Ten leagues to the south lay a town called Lubine, a quiet village built along the Lub, a stream which originates in central Sunlan and flows quietly southward to join the Westalon River fifteen leagues north of Sunlan Palace. They were now drawing very close to the armies of Sunlan, and the people of this region were more suspicious, and looked upon these steel-seeking travelers with doubtful eyes.

There were also a more elves to be seen in this region. In the north, if one saw a rational creature at all, it was a mortal man without a doubt. As they went further and further south toward the Palace, there were increasingly more immortals. Most of these, as yet, were merchants or tradesmen of some sort or another, but there were also, in this region, lords and nobles, friends of Ijjan and servants of the royal house. Pelas and his company accordingly began to exercise greater caution.

In Lubine they sought an elf named Amro, who, they had heard, was unsurpassed among mortal and immortal alike in the ways of the forge. Amro's home was one of the finer houses they had seen thus far. It looked either new or well-kept, it was impossible to tell which, for the architecture was different from both that of Sunlan and of Alwan. The front portion of the house had thick logs standing as columns on each corner, upholding a slatted roof through which smoke billowed rapidly.

'Someone is at work, even as we approach,' Agonas said hopefully. He had taken a great interest in this new metal, and was more than a little excited to see and feel the material with his own hands.

Pelas looked more doubtful; for in his mind the steel was not a curiosity but an obstacle. A portion of the Lub was diverted through stone channels to run directly beside the workshop. The water gently worked a great wheel, turning it over and over again without cease.

Beyond the workshop stood a tall, round building, almost resembling an overindulgent guard tower. The stones, however, were all of a sandy color and reflected the light of the rising sun as though they were polished gold. There were many enormous windows in this house, and several smaller structures extending from the north and southern sides. Whoever dwelt there, they reasoned, possessed considerable wealth for a mere smith.

The door was ajar, and they entered one at a time, slowly filing into what seemed like a tool shop. All manner of farming tools hung upon the wall. Horse-shoes, plows, shovels, pitchforks and just about anything else an agrarian folk might need were arranged neatly upon tables and shelves.

There was a counter in the center of the room behind which sat a little boy - an elf-child, writing upon a scroll with a quill pen. He looked up at them with wide eyes as they approached. He blinked twice, turned on his stool and leapt from his place, running - half stumbling, out past a curtain and into the workshop. As he flung aside the woolen cloth a gust of hot wind flew from the room and struck their faces. 'Have you ever felt such a heat?' Pelas asked his brother, whom he knew to have more experience with such things than he.

'Never,' he said.

Pelas motioned to Cheru and Oblis, indicating that it was his will that they remain in the shop. Pelas and Agonas, with Ginat towering in their train, entered the forge, each with eyes gaping at the spectacle that revealed itself. The waterwheel powered an enormous bellows that puffed slowly but steadily upon a large furnace.

A man stood working before them, bare chested and covered in sweat and soot as he labored. He held an enormous pair of tongs in one hand and an equally large hammer in the other. After they had watched him work for some time in silence, the boy approached him, shielding his eyes from the heat of the forge. The child tapped him lightly upon the shoulder and then leaped back, almost as though he had expected a blow to follow. But the man's concentration would not be broken for anything. He pounded away at a glowing red lump of iron until it was flat and even. When he seemed satisfied with its shape he plunged it into a barrel of water, filling the room with steam. Then he gently dropped it into a pile of like objects.

At last he turned his attention to the boy. 'Ghastin,' he said. 'This better not be about that wanderer again. Let the mortals have what superstitions they must, we elves need not concern ourselves about such things.'

'It is not-' the boy began, but by then the smith had already noticed the strong, noble-born elves who stood in his shop. There were elves in this part of Sunlan, but few such as these.

'Welcome,' he said with a very business-like smile. 'What brings you to my door, honored guests?'

'We see many strong works of iron here,' Agonas began. 'Brilliant work; all of it, from the least trinket to the most valuable tool. But we see also many curious things: A sword, such as I have not seen in the north, a spear that could pierce the strongest mail, and a host of daggers, strong as dragon-tooth.'

The smith grinned, but looked doubtfully at the men. 'Yes, the steel is as good for butchering the living as it is for butchering the beasts of the field.' He nodded toward a great ax that lay flat upon a table nearby.

'But is this steel as strong as we have heard,' Pelas asked, stepping closer.

'Stronger,' the man said. He led them over to the far wall and took a sword from its hook. 'Here, take it,' he handed the sword to Pelas. The sword seemed to sing as the son of Parganas held it in his hand. His ears could hear a ringing like unto the ringing of a bell. This metal seemed rather to ring the whole world, and not itself as other metals are wont to do. 'Test it out,' the smith said, 'and see if it be as strong as you have heard.'

'Brother?' Pelas asked, looking at Agonas.

Agonas drew his own sword and the two prepared to spar. Ginat backed away; the smith grinned as though he knew precisely what would happen next.

Agonas struck, Pelas parried, but the blade of the darker brother was cut in twain like a twig.

'By the gods!' Ginat bellowed, nearly falling into the forge in surprise.

Agonas seemed positively spooked. Pelas alone was undisturbed, though a crazed smile painted itself across his face.

'Never have I seen such a thing!' he marveled. 'I must have this sword,' he said, looking at the unaffected edge with hungry admiration.

'I shall make you one then,' the smith said, 'and to your precise desires. You will not find a better man for the task, my lord. I am Amro, and, like my father, I have learned the trade from the dwarves themselves.'

'We shall have much business for you, master Amro,' Pelas said, smiling despite his own attempts to retain his composure. 'But I should like to purchase this very blade at once; I shall return to see about the others.'

'I am afraid that this blade does not belong to me,' Amro said suddenly. 'I have no right to sell it.'

'What do you mean by this?' Pelas thundered, sounding like a deprived child.

'This was my father's sword, which he left for Ghastin, his youngest son.'

'But surely your brother-'

Amro lifted his hand and waved the boy away. Ghastin fled at once, looking nervously over his shoulder at the sword in Pelas' hand. 'The blade was made by my father, with dwarven smiths in his employ. It cannot be replaced, but it can be copied. He meant for the boy to have this blade when he comes of age, even as he left me this ax.' He pointed at the table with hands that seemed to radiate strength and skill even to the very finger-tips.

Pelas tilted his head to one side, like an owl examining some novelty. Malice flashed in his eyes.

Pelas and his brother had no idea how long they stood this way; from the other room there was a holler and a shout. Ghastin burst through the door and ran to his brother's side, screaming like a frightened girl.

'What is the meaning of this, Ghastin?' he asked.

'They are not friends,' he whispered to Amro in a measured whisper. He did not move, but there was a noticeable change in Amro's demeanor, as though every muscle passed from ease into readiness.

A moment later Cheru and Oblis burst into the room with hatred in their eyes.

'He was spying on us!' Cheru roared. 'He was listening to us talk from under the table.'

'Under HIS table, my lords,' Amro reminded them, protectively pushing his brother behind him. 'You cannot fault a child for such a thing.'

Cheru looked at Pelas with dark malice in his eyes, and nodded to indicate that this was no small matter of rude manners.

Ghastin also understood that this could not be brushed away with a scolding. Through tears he burst out, 'They want the steel to kill the King of Sunlan – to kill King Ijjan!'

Pelas looked at the blade of his weapon and sighed. 'Never in my life have I seen better craftsmanship. It would be a pity if we could not come to some... agreement over this trifle.'

Amro chuckled, time seemed to freeze. Finally he spoke, 'You know there is no agreement to be made. You will have your way, no doubt. My life and the life of my brother in exchange for my services. No doubt I must leave here this very day, and in chains too.'

Pelas looked truly regretful. 'You are as skilled in words and thought as you are in iron. Would that we might have met under-'

None of the elves, from that moment nor even in their recollection of the events, could explain just what happened next. In a flash, in a half of a blink, the sword was once again in the hand of Amro. Pelas stood for a moment, looking at his hand in confusion, too dazed to see Amro's heavy boot flying at his face. The kick connected, whirling the son of Parganas off his feet as though he had been swept up like a leaf in a gale. Ginat rushed to the defense of his master, seizing Amro by the wrist with his powerful arms. Amro turned and seemed to tuck himself into the giant's crushing grip, stepped forward and cast the mighty elf over his shoulder and into the forge. The sizzle of his burning flesh was cut off by a cry of agony. He pulled himself off the flames and thrust his burning left arm into the bucket of water. Cheru and Oblis pounced upon Amro with blades drawn, but Ghastin's sword cut through each of their weapons in turn.

Agonas looked into his own hand at his broken blade, looked into Amro's eyes and smiled, backing away. They understood one another without words: This man, Amro, was not such as they had thought - a tradesman, a businessman a worker. He was as skilled as the lot of them, and it would only be when the greater portion of them lay dead that he would himself be taken. Amro gripped Ghastin by the arm and fled from the forge through a back entrance, grabbing the axe as he left. 'What about Ele?' Ghastin wept as they passed from the door.

'SILENCE!' Amro hissed.

Pursuit

Pelas and his companions rushed through the door in great panic. They heard a splash and saw a small bridge collapse into the water beside the house. Beyond this they saw the shrinking forms of Amro and his brother vanishing over the horizon. 'Horses!' Pelas bellowed, returning to the workshop. 'We must make for the crossing!'

'I will track you,' Agonas said calmly, 'Go on ahead and capture him if you can. Do not kill him, brother.'

'I won't,' Pelas said, not noticing that he was taking orders from his brother. He rushed from the house and leaped upon his horse.

Cheru and Oblis grabbed swords from the shop, looked at them approvingly, and then followed their master in pursuit of the smith. Cheru knew in his heart that this was his blunder.

Oblis was too stupid to bear any blame, but he should have known better than to speak of their plans in such a place.

'It was the marvel of that sword,' Cheru thought to himself. 'Who could have kept their tongue in the sight of it?' Amro now physically represented his own error, and he hated him.

The nearest crossing was a five-minute gallop from the forge, and it was nearly ten minutes before the hunters came to the place where Amro had dropped the bridge. 'Doubtless he will find a horse for himself,' Pelas reasoned. 'Then he will head south, for there are no armies in this place. He must warn Sunlan, both for his own protection, and out of loyalty.'

Almost as soon as they discovered the first signs of their quarry, Pelas, Oblis and Cheru also discovered that the smith and his brother had departed from the road. And almost as soon as they had they turned to follow did they discover that horses would be of no use. The land was swampy and overgrown, thick weeds and thorny bushes grew so thick together that there was no hope of finding a path for their mounts. They tied them to a tree and left them behind.

On foot they fared little better at first, having no idea where their quarry would go, and having soon lost sight of any trace of their flight. Furthermore, when some sign of disturbance appeared it seemed as though the tracks led in every direction at once. 'This man is a master of the wilds as well as of the forge,' Pelas said with awe.

Cheru just grumbled and cursed; Oblis did not understand any of it.

They continued on well into the night, giving up at last and crumbling to the cold earth in heaps. They set no fire, ate no meals and set no watch. All seemed lost to them as they sat in the dark, lost and beaten. For Pelas it was a night of many nightmares and as many feverish awakenings.

Cheru mumbled curses in his sleep, woke, cursed still more, drifted off again and cursed nonsense into the night air. Oblis slept like a stone, with his face blowing bubbles in the mud.

The moment the sky turned a shade lighter they were up, searching for clues regarding their enemy's flight. They found that most of the signs pointed to the south, and they, with heavy hearts, raced off into the wilds, their feet kicking up mud, their breath streaming from their mouths like billowing smoke.

It was not until midday that Pelas remembered how adept his brother was at such pursuits. Lady Aedanla abhorred the hunt, and found every occasion to have him excluded from such brutalities. Agonas, however, learned the skills of the wild from the Master Huntsman Vir, who among the hunters of Bel Albor had no rival. 'Why did I leave him behind?' he asked himself with great anger and confusion. 'Is this his betrayal? That which I knew must come? Will he allow me to fall that he might live on and take the throne his own way?' He felt sick at the thought, and a tear made its way to his eye, despite his attempts to feel nothing but anger and hatred.

They followed footprints in the mud for the rest of the day, coming at last, exhausted and depressed, to the edge of a large forest. They would be fools to attempt it during the night; they made camp under a great oak tree and lit a fire, eating for the first time since the morning they had entered Lubine. They clumsily forced dry bread down their throats, washing it down with cold water from their waterskins. They ate only a few bites of their dried meat, not knowing when they would have occasion to restore their supplies. 'The horses!' Pelas lamented within himself, remembering how the greater portion of their rations were still tied to those stupid animals.

The next day they entered the woods. There were no clouds in the sky and the sun shone bright and clear. They found their trail easily and sprinted off into the woods. About three hours later they came across a smoldering heap of ashes. 'Someone has camped here,' Pelas said with great excitement. They cannot have been gone long by the look of these logs.'

They hurried on through the rest of the day, finally coming to a halt before a great stone wall, which marked the beginning of a small mountain. Up they climbed, Oblis little faster than the stones themselves.

Pelas cursed as he and Cheru ran on ahead, shouting back, 'return to Lubine; find Agonas, and see why he has not yet come to us.' This, he knew, was unfair - his brother could hardly have caught up to them, as they had made such haste. But his frustration combined with the need to give Oblis some command or another forced the words from his lips. 'With naught to do he would lose himself in the woods never to be found,' Pelas reasoned.

Surrender

When night fell Amro risked another fire. Ghastin had fallen and had cut his leg badly. 'Would to the gods I could have fled away alone - or with an equal,' he lamented as he peered out into the darkness. Ghastin slept now; Amro knew he needed to sleep as well, but he could not risk it, not with those devils behind him.

As he gazed into the darkness he saw three figures approach him. He blinked and they were gone. In an instant he saw them again, three distinct forms as clear as the fire that burned behind him. Suddenly they vanished away again. He rose to his feet and lifted his battle-ax, calling out, 'Who dares approach Amro in the dead of night?'

Suddenly there came a voice from behind him. He turned and saw three strange forms standing over his brother.

'All things are bound and connected, divided only by words,' a voice spoke out. The speaker was an old man, clothed in simple grey robes. He looked tired and ancient, ready for death - or for eternal rest at the very least. He was Old Man Sleep.

Beside him stood two others, a man in a white robe with golden edges who looked like he was ready to break into a grin.

The other man was cloaked in black with a dagger ever ready in his pale white hand.

He shook his head, and the men vanished again. He looked around frantically, trying to see where they had gone, but there was nothing but himself, the fire and his brother, sleeping undisturbed by anything. He looked closely at his brother to see that he was breathing. Among the Essenes it was said that such visions preceded the death of a child. But those were human legends, and an elf child needn't fear Death.

Almost as though they had heard his thoughts, the three visions returned, this time Folly, the brother of Old Man Sleep and of Death, roared with mockery.

'If you were not so arrogant,' he chuckled, 'You would never have thought such a thing. Glad, you ought to be, that my brother Death does not accept such challenges.'

'Challenge?' Amro said, shaking his head - as he did so the men vanished once again. But as his head settled the figures returned.

'You are right to call into question the word "Challenge",' Folly laughed. 'For who can challenge Death and live?'

Amro looked down at his sleeping brother as if he was remembering something. His body began to shake and he covered his face with his hands.

'It is said that he who sees the three brothers is doomed to death,' he said.

'So also for those who do not,' Sleep said, quickly. 'For no man escapes us entirely.'

Amro snorted, 'But it is said - if I should speak more clearly - that he who sees Death will not live out the night.'

'Such things are said,' Sleep affirmed, 'and so it has ever been. But you, my child, are one of the few that have seen Death and lived through till morning.'

Amro cast his ax to the ground and drew his sword, pointing the blade at his own heart.

Folly's eyes widened and his mouth gaped open as if he had never seen anything so entertaining.

Sleep sighed, but Death took no notice.

'I have it in my power,' he said fiercely, 'to force your hand this night, oh black one.' He spoke directly to Death.

'You say you have it in your power,' Sleep said, 'So we shall see. What is power? When a man says, I have the power to do this or that thing - how can he say that he can do what is not done? How can he know? Yes, we shall see if you have the power.'

Amro stood there like a man made of iron, staring hatefully upon the three brothers.

Finally Folly spoke, his smile vanishing from his lips, saying, 'Do not do this rash thing. You are cast in the mold of your fathers, whom we have observed for many an age. From the beginning willfulness entered into your kind; nay, even from before your first father there was will in this world, born of illusion and bent upon self-destruction. It was, in the eyes of your ancestor, better to die than to be used. Better to come to naught than to have one's value in the eyes of another. Better to be the master of death, than life's battered anvil. The road of life is not easy; but the road of death is no better, however lightly one may tread thereon.'

Sleep nodded, impressed by his brother's rare sobriety. 'You consider yourself a free man, Amro,' he said, 'but if you would but give it some thought you would see that there are no free men. For who can see all ends, and therefore avoid all evils? Who can direct their own course aright, without knowledge of all things, present and future. A man labors his life away, and perishes along with his posterity in a flood. Or a man takes his ease, and lives to be old and to kiss grandchildren. Even we, who have seen all men from the first even to the last, even we cannot see all ends. You have the power, you say, and you must do as you will. But there is another way.'

'Time rolls like a wheel,' Sleep said, as if he fought for every breath by reason of exhaustion. 'You must become part of that wheel or be ground to powder beneath it. But either way, the wheel turns on and on. Change comes.'

'You are speaking of my death?' Amro asked.

Sleep nodded, 'We speak of your death. There is a choice that looks best, and then there is the best choice, which man may never know or see. We come here as counselors today: Your life will fall into the hands of strange men; submit to them, save your lives for a time, and serve them to the utmost of your ability. In the end you will understand everything.'

'You said that you spoke of my death,' Amro said, puzzled.

'Nothing can stop that,' Sleep said, 'but you will have the opportunity to make an end of yourself in glory or in shame. Do not be tempted by the former path. But this I promise you: For your brother's sake, your choice will be of greater weight than you can possibly imagine. You will be a slave to your enemies, he will suffer greatly too, but it will be, if you can find a way to believe, for the good.'

'For the good,' Amro grunted. 'What nonsense.' His chest heaved with anger. 'I never asked for any of this!'

'No?' Folly said, lifting one eyebrow, as though he were daring Amro to ask for proof that he had in fact asked for it. But Amro's mind was carried into the past, and he heard his brother's voice speaking to him. It had been several weeks now since Ghastin had come home speaking strange things - things he had heard from a sage traveling through Lubine. He had said, repeating the teacher, 'If any man says that he is good, then let him look to his enemy and say, he is good also. And if any man say he is greater than his father, then let him look to his father and say, he also is greater. Unless a man becomes his own father, he shall not know the Mountain of Life.'

The words still seemed a mystery, but suddenly he found that he could make no accusations against the heavens for his lot. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not make a sound in protest.

Breathing heavily, he cursed and swung his sword through the air wildly, cutting branches from the trees above him. Finally he fell to his knees and wept, staining his cheeks with tears until the sun rose. 'It is a hard lot that has fallen to us,' he wept. 'It is a hard fate that I have given myself.'
[Chapter VII:  
The Princess and the Plan](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Ele

The sun was already high in the sky when the maiden awoke, kicking aside her bedcovers and making her way lazily down the stairs. Her hair was reddish-brown, and her skin was as white as porcelain. She wore a long white nightgown and a pair of silk slippers. The silence of the house alarmed her; it was not like Amro to be idle, and she had not heard his forge for nearly a half hour. This did not trouble her as much as it puzzled her. In these lands there were not many terrible things that such a woman as she needed to fear.

Lubine and its surrounding area was well guarded, as the Sunlan palace was within a four days' ride. She assumed that Amro had gone to the market. 'What else would he be doing on such a morning?' she thought to herself. 'He is certainly not resting; nor can he be passing the time in idleness.'

Ele was the cousin of Amro, and she had been left in Lubine by her father, who had gone on to Sunlan Palace for a council with King Ijjan. Amro was her nearest relation, and the only one with whom her father felt she could be entrusted.

She came to the main hall of the house and looked out the southern windows toward the forge. There was no smoke rising now, and she was convinced Amro had gone to the market, probably taking his little brother along as well. She slumped down into a chair and pouted. Her primary disappointment was in the absence of Ghastin, who was charged with the cooking of breakfast in her cousin's house. And Ghastin was a very good cook for one so young. If any excellence should be granted the elves, it must be their dominance in the arts of cookery and in the creation of fine foods. An immortal life lends itself to infinite advancements, the elves were fond of saying.

There would be no breakfast for her this morning, for she could not possibly, she thought miserably, cook her own food. There were four taps on the door. 'Three,' she said to herself, 'is about as much as a polite man can get away with. 'Any more than three and the caller proves themselves to be too eager for an audience.' She sighed and made her way to the door, thinking it would be one of her cousin's servants, or some merchant with whom he had dealings. There was, on a typical day, a great deal of such traffic. But when she opened the door and found Agonas, the son of Parganas, staring at her with a drawn blade, she collapsed in a heap on the cold stone floor.

When at last she awoke she found herself blindfolded and, it seemed, riding upon a horse supported by the strong arms of her captor. Her hands were bound tightly together, though they were not uncomfortable, and she felt a soft rope tied about her throat. When her head began to bob in the first moments of her wakefulness, Agonas spoke, sternly but kindly.

'I will gag your mouth as well if you attempt to call out, or to speak out of turn. These matters are higher than you; and there are none to save you.' She knew he spoke the truth, and she remained silent for a great while, softly sobbing and quietly wetting her blindfold with her tears. The man was hard but not cruel, she thought - he likes this little better than she. 'Where are you taking me?' she asked after some time had passed.

Agonas hesitated, but finally spoke, 'I am taking you to Amro, your kinsman,' he answered, as if he expected her spirits to be lifted by the mention of her mighty relative. But she gave no reaction. They rode on in silence for the rest of the day, and well into the dark of the night.

'You could remove my blindfolds,' she suggested gently. 'I will give you no trouble.'

'No,' he said, 'if you ask me for lenience again I shall cut your throat.' It sounded to her as though he meant to do it, and her mind was thrown into fear.

It would not do, for Agonas' purposes, for his captive to be at ease. He had already acted foolishly, he believed, in binding her so gently, and speaking to her as though she were worthy of some greater honor. 'At least now she will be afraid,' he thought.

When night came he took her roughly from atop the horse and laid her against a rough tree, binding her feet together and securing the rope on her neck to one of the branches. The night was chill, and she shivered and shook as the wind howled through her nightgown. 'Are there stars tonight,' she seemed to plead, hoping to rekindle some semblance of the kindness she detected in her captor earlier. Agonas looked up at the wheeling host of the upper heavens, but he said nothing. She began to weep, quietly, almost as though she were doing so in deference to his request that she remain silent. 'Such a gentle creature,' Agonas said. 'But what can be done about it?'

For several more days they traveled in this manner. Each night he set her down on the cold, damp ground, sometimes with roots beneath her back or thorns at her feet. He grew rougher each day, it seemed, but she grew more and more peaceful and kindly toward him. By the end of the fourth day he could no longer bring himself to harm her. He set a fire, unbound her and fed her warm soup.

She did not speak, but her gentle eyes revealed her gratitude all the same.

Agonas cursed himself for his circumstances. 'For my brother's sake I injure this spring flower,' he whispered to himself. 'Yet her grace endures.' He shook his head. 'But what shall Pelas give to me? I have promised him the throne.'

Ele seemed to comprehend much more than Agonas intended; indeed, Agonas said nothing to her, but her keen eyes and kind heart pierced through his uneasiness and were a comfort to him. For all that she had endured, he could tell that she looked upon him with pity. This filled him with conflict all the more. By the time he overtook Amro and Ghastin he was very nearly mad with shame. He had intended to compel the smith, threatening to take the life of his terrified kinswoman if he did not, without treachery, agree to give them the secret of steel. When he rode up and dismounted he could scarcely look the man in the eye.

Amro looked as though he were expecting Agonas to find him; he even seemed somewhat relieved when at last the dark-haired son of Parganas rode his horse into his small encampment.

Ghastin was afraid, and upon seeing the rider he prepared to run.

Amro held his arm fast.

Ele was no longer bound and her beauty did not seem in the least diminished by the journey. If one were to judge by appearances they would never know that Agonas had meant to anything more than transport the maiden to her relative in the wilderness.

'I will go with you,' Amro said, when they had all taken places at the fire. 'I could kill any one of you,' he said confidently. Agonas felt a flush of resentment pass over him, but when he saw the sadness in Amro's eyes he felt calm again. 'But what good would it do? And who knows what the end would be? Nay, no one knows what fate their feet pursue; not even the oldest of the elves can discern the future. It is in vain that we strive, whatever our goal may be.'

It was not until the next evening that Pelas, Cheru and Oblis, who had rejoined the others after getting lost for most of a day, arrived, panting, filthy and in no condition to do any of the things they had planned to do to Amro and his brother. Pelas took Amro's sudden decision to assist them as a sign of his coming ascendance. 'My kingdom draws breath,' he whispered to his brother. 'I can feel it within my bones; there is nothing that can stop what soon must be.'

Sunlan

Pelas ordered Amro to be bound with chains and brought, along with Ele and Ghastin, back to Ilvas, and set to work procuring iron and producing steel. The three were sent back with Ginat, Oblis and Cheru, who treated the smith with the greatest of disdain. Pelas looked upon Ele with a grin and said, 'Cheru, see to it that Dalta is introduced to the girl. He has served us well, and he has had no woman since we left the swamplands.'

Agonas looked into her eyes, but turned away, not being able to bear her gaze. Hatred burned within his chest, but he made no complaint. 'I have wronged her too much for her ever to think kindly of me,' he thought to himself as their three servants rode away toward the north with the prisoners.

The sword that had been left for Ghastin, however, Pelas took as his own.

'We must continue on, and spy out the land,' Pelas said.

'And perhaps we shall have better success now that those fools have been sent home.' Agonas thought for a moment and then added, 'That, of course, presumes that they are capable of finding their way to the Esse and then on to Ilvas.'

'Esse is west, and Ilvas is north along its course,' Pelas marveled, not comprehending the sarcasm of his brother. 'Cheru shall have no trouble finding it.'

Agonas laughed coldly, 'Cheru, yes; and it is a good thing you have sent him along. Oblis would fall into the first ditch along the road, and Ginat would follow him out of curiosity.'

Pelas laughed insincerely; the brothers had very different opinions concerning the worth of their servants. In Pelas' eyes Bralohi had become very dear. Of all the other elves they commanded, Bralohi alone seemed to truly believe that Pelas could accomplish that which he had been sent out to do. Ruvis had, over the course of many years, slowly begun to accept Pelas' command, and even to serve him with sincerity, and not merely in deference to Bralohi's authority. Falruvis, on the other hand, had become almost a son to Pelas, and was now highly regarded throughout the small land of Ilvas. Sol also had become somewhat important; Pelas set him to rule over all the economic affairs in the kingdom, and to keep peace among the Essenes, the Lupith and the Knariss. Kolohi, though not as well esteemed as his brother, was regarded as a trustworthy servant. Aebral, the son of Bralohi, had become the captain of the guard in Ilvas, overseeing the fighting men, both of the elves and of the humans. There were many other elves of Gilwel who rose to prominence in the new kingdom, but it would be alien to my purposes to give a complete list of them here. The records of their names are recorded in Dadron as well as in the Magic Tower of Lapulia, to whence all knowledge finds its way.

From the encampment where Agonas had come upon Amro the brothers traveled south for a day, coming at last to a great stony hill. When they climbed to the top they were looking down upon the heart of West Sunlan. The clear Spring air gave them a view of many distant places. Due south they could see a great fortress, guarded on the north by a tributary of the Westalon. To the west they could see a great walled city and an enormous highway of stone stretching out into the distant south. A forest lay between the city and the fortress, the trees of which were taller than any they had seen in Alwan or even in the Far North. The forest continued on into the south, vanishing with the horizon.

'If we follow this river we will come to the Westalon,' Agonas said, looking out to the west. 'Then we can see what manner of defenses their fortresses have with our own eyes.'

As Kolohi had indicated, Sunlan Palace had no defenses of its own. But the country surrounding it was so fortified with towers, forts, walls and castles that it made very little difference. 'The palace is unguarded indeed,' Pelas snorted.

'The country itself is a fortress,' Agonas said, shaking his head. 'This is madness. If we built our army for a thousand years we could not hope to defeat such a foe.'

'You speak nonsense, brother,' Pelas laughed. 'You have given no consideration to Fate.'

'Fate favors the prepared; and such we shall never be, if this be our task.'

The brothers were not troubled in any way as they made their way to the palace. 'They have naught to fear from armies; why should they take note of two travelers,' Agonas marveled to himself. The land grew flat as they approached Sunlan Palace. It was almost as though a great carpenter had smoothed the land itself with a plane, and scratched out any imperfections. The road to the palace was lined on each side by ancient oak trees, each of which was planted some thirty feet from their neighbors. Every detail of the landscape was exact and ordered. There were flowering fields to the north and south of the road, which gently wound its way west toward the city of Sunlan. The road, too, was well kept; there were no grooves or inequities on its surface. It was clear that the whole region was not merely planned, but also preserved with meticulous detail.

The city itself was little different from the road thereto. Every brick seemed to be newly laid, and there were no cracks or blemishes in the stones. At the eastern gate there stood two tall sentries, clad in Steel armor with spears at their sides. They did not so much as glance at the brothers as they passed. 'They have no fear,' Pelas said, his voice sounding doubtful, if only for that moment.

'We shall teach them otherwise,' Agonas said, in an attempt to lift his spirits. But he too felt overwhelmed by their enemy's defenses. 'The forest itself is a greater defense than the walls of Parganas,' he said as the two made their way down the King's Road toward Sunlan. There were a great many people on the streets, most of whom were elves. 'Kolohi tells me that the eastern lands are even as the northern: filled with mortals. But here the endless lives of the elves are guarded from all foes.'

'Could the Essenes of the north be turned against Sunlan?' Pelas wondered aloud.

'I know not; they were poor, as are all mortals, but they were not miserable.'

The sun drew to its height, warming the Spring air so much that the brothers were forced to remove their cloaks. As it reached its summit the glittering gold upon the palace gates was illuminated, making the whole palace seem as though it were made of that precious metal. Pelas gazed at the palace with his hand over his brow. 'There are hundreds of sentries, armed for show to be sure, but armed none the less.'

Sure enough, when Agonas looked he saw their scarlet and white tunics, covered with glittering chain armor, each with a red gemstone set in their polished steel helmets. Their swords were overlaid with gold.

'Such wealth!' Agonas marveled. 'How is it possible that the mighty lord of Alwan lives in a palace of stone while these outcast elves have mansions of gold?'

'It is here because we are here,' Pelas said, suddenly remembering his mother's training. 'Our father gave us royal blood, but Sunlan shall give us a royal kingdom.'

'They shall give it to us?' Agonas chuckled, thinking also of his mother's lessons, though not fondly as his brother did (for indeed the lessons his mother gave him were quite different).

'Indeed,' when we march from Ilvas, Fate herself shall go before our host, and grind to powder all who oppose us.'

At that moment, a trumpet blared and the gates of Sunlan Palace opened.

The Second Oath

'Clear the road for the Prince Unijan and the Princess Indra!' a voice called out. All over the city people seemed to be scattering. The mortal men and women lay themselves prostrate upon the ground. The elves bowed low, but retained their nobility as the Prince and his servants passed.

Pelas and Agonas did as the elves, putting their right arms across their waists and bowing low, so that their heads were lower than their belts. When Unijan had passed, Agonas risked a glance at the princess as she was carried up the street seated upon a gilt wooden litter.

The sun shone brightly upon her face, and it was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Her crown gleamed in her golden hair like a thousand stars. Her dress was white with gold threat embroidered in an ornate design. She wore a white veil that hid her shoulders from sight. Agonas felt as though she were too holy and too fair to even look upon. Indeed, no other soul was looking at her. Even Pelas remained with his eyes downcast. 'Strange fate,' Agonas thought to himself, 'that here, in the heart of the enemy's kingdom, Pelas should be more cunning than I.'

Suddenly a voice whispered to him from his side. It was an old mortal who was laying on the ground with his face hidden beneath his arms. From where he lay, however, he could see Agonas' face.

'The penalty for seeing the face of Indra Ijjanda is death, if you are an elf - torture and death if you are a mortal.'

He looked back upon the face of the Princess without thinking. Her eyes met his, but she showed no alarm or offense as she studied him She turned away, returning her attention to the road as she was carried off to the palace.

When at last she was gone, life returned to the city. People all around them were rising from the dust, groaning and brushing the dirt from their clothes. The older humans were clutching their backs or their legs as their weakened limbs required. There was a short bustle of conversation and then, as if it were waking from slumber, the sound of the city returned to the streets.

Agonas had a fire in his eyes and a passion in his soul that could not be contained. He clasped his brother by the arm and led him behind a shop, swung his brother's face before his and hissed, 'Swear it, brother!!'

'Swear what?' Pelas said, startled by his brother's actions.

'Swear to me, Pelas Parganascon, that when we come into our kingdom, the daughter of Ijjan will be mine. Swear it!'

Pelas laughed. 'Of course,' he said, as though it were a mere trifle to him. 'You shall have whomsoever you please.'

'I shall have Indra Ijjanda,' he said, as though the mere utterance made it all the more certain, or added strength to his brother's oath. 'Swear it to me.'

'You shall have Indra Ijjanda, I swear it,' Pelas said.

Once the oath had been taken, Agonas smiled and struck Pelas hard upon the shoulder. 'Look at this place, brother! It shall all belong to us, and Alwan too, when we have returned to our father in triumph.'

'You mean it shall be mine,' Pelas said, peering at his brother through narrow eyes.

'Of course,' Agonas laughed. 'That is what I meant, brother. I have not forgotten my oath.'

'Nor I,' Pelas said. Agonas shook his head and laughed, not willing to let the tension distract him from his excitement.

The brothers spent another month surveying the land before finally returning to Ilvas even as the weather began to grow warm. That summer, they took council with the people of Lohi in Lushlin, and procured for themselves arms and men of war. 'Our alliance with the lord of Lushlin,' Agonas said, when he and his brother were alone, 'would serve us just as well if we were to take Alwan by force.'

Pelas looked upon him with horror.

Agonas laughed. 'You think I am treacherous, brother?'

'I know not,' Pelas said, hiding his concerns.

'Remember this only, brother: We are not the first of his sons to be sent away on a Doom Path. And as we are the youngest, we are entitled to fewer honors than our predecessors.'

'You forget, brother,' Pelas said, 'that we are sons, not of Parganas alone, but of the Queen Aedanla also.'

'Indeed,' Agonas said, wincing at the sound of her name. He felt a deep envy rise within him. Circumstances would not permit either of them to bear a superfluous amount of affection toward their father, who had effectively sent them off to perish in battle. Yet Pelas retained his mother's love, and loved her also. Agonas had neither of these. 'If there is any hope of victory, brother, it is in that thought - that we are bearers of a godly bloodline.'

He meant this in jest, but Pelas nodded soberly.

Amro in Ilvas

Cheru was greatly disappointed when it became clear that they would not need to torment and torture Amro to compel his obedience. From the day he surrendered to their authority he gave no sign of rebellion or resistance, but contributed all his efforts to their mission. In the city of Ilvas, which was now a large and cultured place, frequented by man and elf alike, he built for himself a forge such as he had when he labored for the king of Sunlan. With the help of Kolohi he organized the procurement of iron ore, both through trade and craft. His knowledge of Sunlan allowed him to acquire great stores of iron for Pelas and Agonas. The armory of Nhest, which was just thirty leagues north of Tinot, was pillaged and burned by the servants of Pelas. The crime was blamed on the Essenes of northern Sunlan, who soon repaid Ijjan with their blood.

Ele was given to Dalta to be his bride, and the pair married within a year of her arrival. Ele did not love him, but she submitted to everything for the sake of Amro, who she knew suffered greatly throughout their imprisonment. If she could convince him that she was happy with her lot and with her husband, then it would ease his sorrow. Thus she made every effort to appear affectionate toward her new master, though it consumed her from within to do so.

After seven years she gave birth to a daughter, Dalele, whom history remembers by the name Dalia, the very same who was to become mother to Marin of Olgrost, who founded the nation that bears her name. When Dalia was grown she became enamored of a distant kinsman of Ruvis named Thuru, who would one day become her avenger. But the list of the elf lords and their marriages must await its proper place; it would be both tedious and unnecessary to recount all their names and histories here.

Ghastin was raised in Ilvas, and instructed according to the ways of Alwan. But he was a cunning child, and could tell at once what was history and what was myth. Even in his youth he could see more clearly what was an invention of Parganas than even Agonas, who prided himself on his lack of credulity. He was trained for combat, and his instructors spoke well of him, but he had no heart for fighting. He would often sneak away under the darkness of night to gaze at the moon or to study the stars. Pelas tried to encourage him to learn the names of the stars and how they interacted one with the other, but Ghastin just laughed, saying, 'They do no such things.' He grew strong in Ilvas, but he remained aloof from the court of Pelas, keeping to himself as much as he was able.

He remembered how he had come to Ilvas, and how much it had cost his brother Amro, who was in every way his opposite as well as his better. Where Ghastin was quiet, Amro was bold but thoughtful. Where Ghastin struggled, Amro excelled. Where Ghastin feared, Amro laughed. 'Do you not miss our old forge in Lubine?' Ghastin asked on occasion, when his heart longed for the days of peace, ere the ambitions of Pelas had dragged them from their old lives.

'Of course, brother,' Amro said compassionately. 'But I could not bear it if anything happened to you and Ele. We must serve these for a time.'

But Ghastin knew that it was not for fear over him and Ele that Amro served Pelas. He did not know of the vision, but he knew that it was no power of man or elf that had driven his brother to surrender to these treacherous princes. He never inquired after a reason, however, as it would, he thought, injure his brother's pride. 'You bear so much on our behalf, brother,' he said softly. 'Our father would be proud.' Every mention of his father made Ghastin's heart swell within his chest, for every day he saw his father's sword hung upon the belt of Lord Pelas Parganascon.

[Chapter VIII:  
Choices Already Made](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Danger

Nearly fifty years passed before the people of Ilvas were prepared for war. By this time, however, their existence had been fully uncovered both in Alwan and Sunlan. 'Parganas will march to war, if we do not act at once,' Agonas said with great urgency. 'We have become a rival within his own dominion, and he will not have it, be our intentions whatsoever you will.'

'The Lady Aedanla would not tolerate it!' Pelas objected.

'Our mother is a prisoner within her own house. She has not returned to Parganas, and Parganas has turned away from her, taking to wife another woman.'

'That our mother, who gave us being and motion, should be powerless I cannot believe so easily. But that your father-'

Agonas looked at him fiercely. 'That OUR father would betray her thus, I had foreseen long ago.'

Agonas rolled his eyes and shook his head; for Pelas had grown increasingly fond of speaking as though he anticipated every report that came to his ears. 'Yet it remains, brother, that the soldiers of Alwan are being trained as if to war. The goblins of the north are fat and content, having their fill from the excess of those who live nearest the forest - mortals, who do not have the protection of the elves.' (It was the universal practice of the elves in those days to consider the lives of mortals as very unimportant due to their brevity)

'You mean that he intends to march to Ilvas?' Pelas asked.

'I mean that is the only explanation for his preparations. He is at peace with Lushlin; and there are no other rebels in the land. Excepting, of course, the lords of Ilvas.'

'But we are no rebels,' Pelas said with great anger. 'I would never betray Parganas; it would be a dishonor and a disgrace.'

'Yet not one without reason,' Agonas muttered.

'How dare you? You know our father favored you, yet you would repay his affection with betrayal.'

'Tell me, Pelas, since we did not ask to be born, who is it that has wronged whom? Parganas, because he lusts after our mother, fills her belly to the brim with OUR suffering. And because he does not wish to pass into obscurity, he sends our elder brothers away to die even as he intends for us to die. For that alone we owe him nothing, for he is the murderer of our kinsmen.'

'What would you have me do, then, march against our father, to avenge men we have never met in living flesh?'

'I would have none of that,' Agonas replied, 'I merely wish to show you the peril of our circumstance. Parganas will come; perhaps not now, but he will come all the same. If not, Sunlan will come. If we are going to act, we must act soon, or Fate will act against us.'

Pelas closed his eyes for a minute and then said, quietly, 'It is as I thought it would be.'

Agonas put his hand over his mouth to conceal his cold grin. 'Then we shall soon march?'

'Indeed,' Pelas answered. 'It is time to march upon Sunlan, to fulfill our oaths and take that which Destiny herself vouchsafes for our arrival.'

The Preparations

The north of Sunlan, where the Essenes dwelt, would be easy for the army of Ilvas to conquer. But to march south upon Sunlan itself, facing its towers and its fortresses would be more than even King Parganas' army could handle. It was Agonas' belief, though he could not bring himself to inform his hopeful brother, that it was their father's plan to injure the defenses of Sunlan by means of his sons, but to break them and conquer by his own force when their attempt was brought to a bloody end. This would eliminate the threat of malcontent successors and an eastern rival in one mighty blow.

The army of Ilvas could march across the Talon Mountains, and march against the unfortified cities of the coast, coming to Sunlan Palace from the east; for the palace was guarded against the river and the north, but not against the coast, for they had no enemies in that direction. It was this latter strategy that Agonas endorsed in council. But Pelas was reluctant to agree with him. 'The army's strength would be spent in the mountains, and we would come to the coast as hungry beggars, not as conquering lords.'

'Yet, brother,' Agonas argued. 'It would be better to stumble over the Talons, then to break against the wall of Sunlan. You have seen it yourself, it can withstand us.'

'Then hadn't we wait until our army has grown stronger, and our numbers greater?' Ruvis said, seeming reluctant to go to war at all. 'Our numbers grow ever day, among the Knariss and Lupith we have many servants, and even our elves begin to bear children. Dalele is but the first fruits. Lohi has supported us in this, sending women as well as supplies from Lushlin.'

'We cannot hold off, Ruvis,' Kolohi said with frustration. 'Parganas grows weary of us; for we are not, properly speaking, his servants. We must go over the Talons,' he added, addressing Pelas. 'For Sunlan is not ignorant of us.'

'And who is to be blamed for that?' Ruvis said, glancing at Oblis and Cheru.

'It was not of their doing,' Agonas admitted, though he heartily agreed with Ruvis' sentiments on the matter. 'You cannot hide a kingdom forever, and we have been here for many years now.'

'And what do you say, Falruvis?' Pelas asked, addressing the son of Ruvis.

'I should agree with my father,' he answered, 'were it not for King Parganas, whose might is certainly greater than our own. We cannot depart from the path we are on, whether the road ahead be easy or not. I have faith in my lords, however, and I trust that Fate will guide us in council.'

'A diplomatic answer,' Agonas laughed. 'We should send Falruvis to Sunlan as an emissary; he seems to have a talent for pleasing all men at once.'

The council chamber of Ilvas was built just south of the King's hall, where Pelas and Agonas ruled from two thrones. The ceiling in the chamber was high, and built with bright white stones that reflected the lamplight back onto a great oak table in the center of the room. Around this table were crowded the lords of Ilvas: Pelas, Agonas, Bralohi, Kolohi, Sol, Ruvis, his son Falruvis, Aebral, the eldest son of Bralohi with two of his brothers, Edbral and Cadbral. Dalta with his raven hair also sat pondering their schemes, with Ginat, Oblis and Cheru sitting at his right side.

Pelas looked uneasy, though his voice sounded as confident as ever it had.

'If we put it to a vote,' he said, 'I would undoubtedly find myself in the minority. But I am not one of you - for you have sworn your allegiance to me, and to my cause. And I have proved myself to you, that I am a faithful lord and a prudent king. In a tally of opinion, then, how can it be said that the opinions of servants are weightier than the council of a king? We shall not cross the Talon, for we know not what shall come of such an endeavor. The road to Sunlan is hard indeed; but our path has always been hard. The roads have been perilous, the rewards few, the glory has tarried beyond the edge of dawn. We know that the Essenes will not trouble our armies, and we know the road to Sunlan is paved and smooth. Let us therefore trust to our skill and strength, facing Ijjan openly and without guile - Fate shall be the arbiter.'

The room fell silent, none daring to argue with him.

Daryas

The Woodland Road was the name given to the highway that connected the lands of the Essenes and the Knariss with the Kingdom of Ilvas. Ere the road passed under the thick cover of the ancient trees of the North there was a guard tower and a great force of mortal guards. These men were paid well, and trained by the elves to act as the first line of defense should any danger approach Ilvas. Hugron was the nightwatchman in those days, and among his fellows there was no man with keener eyes. But he did not see the traveler, cloaked in a robe of brown with a rope tied about his waist.

When this strange visitor knocked upon the iron gates, Hugron lost his temper, 'Who dares sneak into the Kingdom of Lord Pelas and his brother, the lord Agonas? Speak quickly, or you shall come to a bad end.'

'Calm yourself, Hugron,' the traveler said. 'There are many things in this world that are unseeable; you cannot be blamed for missing one little thing.'

'Declare yourself!' Hugron demanded. 'For the penalty for trespassing in Ilvas is death.'

'It is a good thing, then, that I am not trespassing,' the man said with a smile. 'To trespass, I must needs be upon land over which I have no authority.'

'This is the land of Lord Pelas,' Hugron insisted. 'It is he that decides what is and is not trespassing.'

'Indeed,' the man laughed, even as one who laughs at the ignorance of a small child. 'Can one have authority over the land itself?'

'What nonsense is this? How dare you,' Hugron raged. The man just shook his head.

'I think you mean to say, master Hugron, that Lord Pelas rules over the elves, and over the Knariss and Essenes. The land itself!' he laughed again, 'how could a man have authority over the land? As if he might compel it to obey him.' Suddenly he looked at Hugron with a fierce grin and said, 'But he has no authority over me.'

Hugron drew his sword. His companions followed his example and prepared to make an end of the strange visitor. But ere they could lay hands upon him a gust of wind blew, sweeping the man away from their grasp and carrying him away to the north. Hugron tore at his beard and cursed. He shook his head and looked around at his fellows in great confusion. He could not remember a word that had just been spoken to him, and neither could the others.

A similar scene unfolded at the front gate of Ilvas not some three minutes later. The wind had borne the traveler through the woods to the very gates of the fortress of Ilvas, where an immortal guard stood watching the road with unblinking eyes. But he did not see the traveler's approach.

'Hail, Feduin,' the robed man said, addressing the guard by name.

The elf blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, at first believing the traveler to be a phantom or an illusion. 'Who calls upon Ilvas at this late hour, and how have you passed our checkpoint. Friends enter at the gate, but robbers come through the wilderness.'

'I cannot rob what you do not possess,' the traveler answered.

'What is the meaning of this? Speak quickly, for I have already shown you too much mercy.'

'And I you,' the traveler said. 'Now,' he began, speaking with terrible authority, 'bring me before the lords of Ilvas.'

The appropriate response would have been to say, 'The lords do not accept such petitions,' or, perhaps, to have slain the visitor then and there for the disdain he had shown for the powers of Ilvas. But Feduin could not resist the command, and turned at once to lead the traveler to the council chambers, where the lords of the elves conspired. His heart dropped, for he knew that the penalty for what he must do would be nothing less than death.

'Do not worry, master elf,' the traveler said. 'If your masters hear my words, then they will not dare lift a finger against you. And if they do not, then you have done nothing wrong, for you have, if they receive nothing from me, done nothing at all.'

The guards at the entrance to the fortress were asleep, much to the horror of the watchman, who thought that they perhaps could waylay the traveler ere he came to Lord Pelas. So soundly did they sleep that they did not even flinch when the large wooden doors creaked upon their iron hinges, swinging out into the dark night air.

The entry hall was lit by a single stone altar, which sent its smoke rising through an aperture in the ceiling. When the traveler entered the altar flared up, and illuminated the room as if it were the very light of day. 'Which way?' asked the traveler.

Feduin pointed at a dark staircase in the northeast corner of the hall. The traveler left him in the entryway, his enchantment slowly wearing off as his brown robes vanished down into the darkness below. He lit no torches and made no sounds, passing three more guards without notice. At last, he came to a great oak door, guarded by two armored elves. The traveler smiled, and passed through the elves and the door alike, appearing in the council chamber like the sun as it reveals itself from beyond the clouds of heaven.

Some within the chamber made as if they might confront the stranger, but ere aught could be done they were altogether rendered senseless.

'Oh fateful gathering!' the stranger exclaimed with great sadness in his voice, 'You should not think, as men are won't to, that there is anything within you that resembles the power you believe yourselves to possess. There is a master builder, but he has use for stones, and not for living souls or fiery spirits. Be therefore, as stones, being and not doing. For in being alone you have that which all men pine after. In doing you can do naught but fail, for power belongs to One only.'

'How dare you!' Pelas cried out, striving against the strange power that had come over the room. 'Who comes to us as if he were our lord; when we alone are lords?'

'I am Daryas, a servant,' the traveler answered. 'There is one power, master elf, and it, being single, cannot be opposed. All your striving, therefore, is folly, and not striving.'

In Pelas' ears he heard once again the voice of his mother, assuring him that, 'you and all are one.'

'Do not be fooled, master Pelas,' Daryas said, 'in thinking that I speak of any power that belongs to you. For when the Power of which I speak acts, you must be still; and when it speaks, you must be silent.'

When that last word was spoken, Pelas closed his mouth and could say nothing more. Agonas stared in awe, with a great fury burning beneath his brow. Each elf heard the words of the stranger, but none of them were content with what they were hearing.

'I spoke of a builder,' Daryas continued. 'You are stones, though you think you are men. And you shall be built into a mighty tower. Be, even as you have been made, and the master will slide you into your place with great ease. But if you must be powerful yourselves, striving against him, then he must, as he must with all uneven stones, first cut away the inequities. In this way only shall you be rendered useful.'

Agonas, fighting against the strange power that had overtaken the room, finally mastered himself enough to utter a complaint. 'You speak uneven words, devil.'

'What words? What I speak, I speak - but what you hear, you hear. It is your ears that hear uneven. And it is you, oh Agonistes, who shall ever be known as a devil. Twice more you shall see me, dark son of Parganas, and each time your power shall be diminished.'

'Lord Pelas,' Daryas continued, turning his attention to the high elf. 'No man who has ever lived has been able to convince themselves more fully that they are, despite all sense, gods, than you have. Every moment of your life, therefore, shall be an evidence and a testimony against your pretenses, but you are forbidden to understand it. Knowledge is a gift; and you have proven yourself unworthy of it. Believe, therefore, that you are wise - it is as close to Wisdom as you shall ever come.'

Bralohi began to struggle, being filled with rage at the dishonor his master had been shown. But Daryas stopped him. 'Bralohi, son of Lohi, there is something of honor within you, but so deep is it hidden that it shall take all the ages of the world to be brought to light. You will drink your fill of sorrow and folly ere the end, but we shall not forever be foes.'

'Foes?' Ruvis spoke in great anger. 'What have we ever done to make ourselves foes?'

'Everything you have ever striven for, Ruvis, has been born of your own lusts. In this you have cut yourself off from the Power that reigns in Bel Albor. You shall not see the rise of the elves.'

Dalta, and some of the other elves began to fight also, being addressed in turn by the stranger with words of warning and of prophecy. 'Dalta, kinslayer,' Daryas said, with tears in his eyes. 'If you had learned that every man is your brother, you would have been prevented from shedding your own blood. But you are a warrior, and in war you shall have great sorrow. Howbeit, heaven shall spare you the knowledge that would be most terrible for you.'

'Falruvis,' and here Daryas shook his head, 'You shall be mighty upon the earth, but you have learned the lessons of Pelas too well, and his folly shall be your undoing.'

'Sol, most clever of elves, your wisdom will save your kin for a time, but your folly will damn them.'

When he had, in this manner, given dooms and promises to each elf, he walked to the head of the table and addressed them all. 'It would be for show, only, if I offered you hope - and a chance to change the path upon which you sojourn. Turn, now, and fly from the evil that shall befall you, and which you shall bring upon the earth. I speak not of that which must come to pass - for it must come to pass. I speak of your own souls, and their fierce rebellion. But alas, I have come, not because your will might be turned, but because your will has already been fixed from the beginning. You shall bring low the elements of the earth, of the sea and of the land. The power of the air belongs to the Guarantor. But in the end, as you have set your wills in opposition to the Power, your names will be words of dread while you live, and words of shame until the world is remade.'

'Have we no choice in this matter, master spirit?' Kolohi said, with a soul torn between disdain and humility.

'Indeed, all men have choice in all things. But not when they appear. Ere I came to you, your souls were already fixed in the matter. Will you serve the power in humility of heart? Or will you serve by compulsion? Either way, the Power shall be served. The paths appear before you in this moment, but you, who are the decider, are already what you are and shall be. The choice only reveals your will, but is not the acting of your will.'

Kolohi fell silent and hung his head low, deeply troubled in spirit.

When he had finished speaking he vanished from the room, leaving them all in doubt and confusion. So abrupt was his departure, and so sudden the return to the waking world, that the elves were at a loss as to whether or not it had, in truth, occurred.

Only Kolohi and Bralohi spoke of the matter, and even then only in secret after the council had dispersed. 'What was the meaning of it, brother?' Bralohi asked.

'I do not know,' Kolohi said quietly. 'It was a dream.'

'Nay, it was like a dream,' Bralohi argued, 'But men dream within themselves; this was dreamed without.'

'Still, I know not what to make of it.'

'What are the elements of the land and sea? What is the meaning of it? And why have we been told that we shall bring them low?'

'Who can tell, brother?' Kolohi said, not wishing to speak any more of the matter. Both of them, however, noticed that from that day forth Lord Pelas had an almost divine confidence. 'Could it have been the voice of fate itself?' Kolohi asked within himself.

The Feast

On the night before the elves were to set out for war, they held a great feast. Every man, both servant and master, was bidden to the table in the grand hall of Ilvas. 'We will have no need for servants henceforth!' Pelas declared. 'For in Sunlan, every man who fights for me will become a lord and a master. Let the cooks, therefore, eat of their own bread and drink of their own wine - for we shall leave the dishes behind for the rats and goblins to lick clean. Tomorrow, we ascend to the throne of Ijjan!'

There was a great burst of cheering and clapping as the elves made merry. The mortals they commanded, however, were not as joyful, for they knew that whether they fought or not, they would yet be as dry leaves in the eyes of their immortal masters.

Wine flowed freely, and every art that the elves had mastered was put on display. There was music and song, poetry and storytelling such as has never been seen in Tel Arie - for it passed away with the Northern World.

Ruvis alone seemed unaffected by the clamor. In his sweaty fingers he held what looked to be a small pebble. What he was about to do, he had longed to do for many ages. Those same ages had tempered his fury, however, and he found his task difficult to do. In the end, however, he dropped the pebble into the wine that had been poured for Agonas.

Within a minute of imbibing the liquid, Agonas stepped away from his seat, feeling ill and feverish. He rushed from the room, not willing that any should see him in his moment of frailty. The torchlight in the hall seemed to flicker and dim, but it was, in truth, his own eyes that failed him. He could not tell whether he looked at the floor or the ceiling, and, without even realizing it, he found himself on the ground, gazing up at the stone ceiling. The music and merriment faded away into nothingness, and he passed into a peaceful sleep.

He could not tell how long he had slept. Dream after dream flitted through his mind; sometimes of things past, sometimes of things yet to come - or of things not to come in any age. He heard a distant voice say to him, 'Sleep, brother. When I see you again, we shall be lords over Bel Albor.' A hurt such as he had never felt came over him. For he knew, even in his nightmares, that his brother, after all the many years of their camaraderie, bore him such distrust. After what seemed like a lifetime of dreams had passed through his mind, a vision of the Princess Indra appeared to him. He saw her standing in the sun, holding out her arms to him. He took her hand into his own and pulled her close to his heart. He wrapped his dark arms around her waist and her shoulders, and kissed her deeply. Even as they embraced, though, he heard a sound enter into his ears, breaking him from the prison of sleep.

He opened his eyes, and the Princess vanished away with his dreams. 'Indra!' he cried out. He looked around his bed. There was a foul stench in the air, and his clothing was filthy - he had been lying there for several days.

He tore off his clothing and threw a cloak about himself. Rushing to the door, he shouted, 'Pelas! What have you done!?' He pulled at the brass handle upon the door, but it would not move. The oak door had been replaced by a door of iron bars.

He returned to his bed and looked at the window. There were iron bars fastened to the stone opening, preventing anyone from entering or leaving thereby. 'You fool!' he cried out. 'How shall you defeat Unijan and his brothers alone?'

There was no answer, and he could do naught else but pound upon the door and curse his brother's name. Night came, and nothing changed. He laid himself down at the door and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Ruvis

The following morning Agonas awoke to the sound of hinges creaking. He rolled over just in time to see a hand removing itself from the room. The door shut quickly, leaving behind a bowl of fruit, a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread. It was not bad fare; and Agonas ate it gratefully, for his stomach felt as though it were about to cave in upon itself. When he had finished his breakfast he attempted the door once again. It was locked fast, and the hinges were of steel. 'Amro,' he grumbled, knowing that the mighty smith's work would not be merciful to him.

The following day he woke before the sun arose and waited by the door. This time, as his meal was delivered, he grabbed the hand as it left behind the pitcher.

'Agh!' the man shouted in fear.

Agonas pulled hard upon the man's arm, twisting it as he struggled for a better hold.

'Ruvis?' he asked as he brought himself to face his jailor. Sure enough, there stood Ruvis with his arm twisted and caught between iron bars.

'Bars upon the door of your master?' Agonas said with a sneer. 'But nay, you are not my servant - you serve Pelas.'

'Lord Pelas only wished to spare you the danger of battle,' Ruvis pleaded. Agonas nearly lost his grip for the fit of laughter that overtook him. But though Ruvis' own strength was great, he was as a child before the might of Agonas.

'What do you mean to do to me?' Ruvis bellowed. 'You cannot escape; I am not so foolish as to have brought the keys with me.'

'That is clever of you, Ruvis,' Agonas said with malice behind his teeth. 'But I do not wish to escape.'

Ruvis was silent for a moment, awaiting the moment that Agonas would see sense and release him. 'If I perish, he perishes,' Ruvis said to himself, 'for who then shall bring him food and water each day.'

Indeed, the entire fortress had been abandoned. The brothers knew that the moment they departed, the servants of their father would descend upon Ilvas, and take possession of it. Thus they had decided that, whatever the outcome, they would pass into Sunlan for good - either to die or to win the day. But it would be impossible to return to Ilvas. Therefore they brought with their army every possession they could possibly transport, and they summoned to their ranks every ally that they had made in their centuries of rule. 'Fate herself marches this day \- let us lead her,' Pelas had said to his captains. 'You, however,' he had said to Ruvis, 'are to remain for a time, and to release my brother when the hour comes.'

'Surely my lord does not wish to starve to death in this place?' Ruvis said, struggling with every word.

'Starve?' Agonas laughed. 'Why should I worry about starving? I have food here with me.' He pointed at the pitcher of water and the bowl of fruit.

'But then what shall you eat?' Ruvis said, beginning for the first time to truly fear for his life.

'If I were truly desperate,' he hissed, spitting in the sweat covered face of his captor, 'I am sure I could find SOMETHING.'

Ruvis' heart sank. Agonas struggled for a moment and unwrapped his cloak from his body. He threw it around Ruvis' neck and began to bind the elf to the bars.

'What is the meaning of this? You are a madman!'

'Indeed,' Agonas affirmed. 'But at least I am not a liar. There is nothing worse than a liar.' He paused for a few seconds and then queried, 'You are not a liar, master Ruvis?' Ruvis held his tongue. 'Silent. I see. You are most honest when you do not speak at all. But I would not want you to become a liar, so I will show you this mercy.' When the cloak was securely bound, Agonas left the door with Ruvis still bound to it, and sought out more cloth in the room. He found some curtains and a clean white sheet. Ruvis had nearly freed himself from the cloak by the time he returned to the door, but with the new linens Agonas was able to bind him fast, so that he could do little more than wiggle his fingers and roll his eyes.

'I say I shall show you this mercy,' Agonas continued, 'in that I shall not let you become a liar. You have heard the old stories, of course, about how our ancestors were deceived by the dragons and how that brought death into the world. I would not want you do share in that evil, my dear friend. In that you have called me mad, I shall be mad, lest you be shown to have a lie upon your tongue.'

Agonas prowled around the room, searching for something. He took hold of a chair and brought it over to the door. 'Madmen, they say, think not of the future, but live by the moment, not understanding the consequences of what they do. Starve, you say? Perhaps, but I do not feel hungry. So let me forget sanity and concern myself only with the present, and my present desires.'

'Please!' Ruvis shouted.

Agonas laughed and slammed the chair against the iron bars with all his strength. The chair shattered into a dozen pieces, crashing from the stone walls to the floor with a terrible sound. Ruvis screeched in agony as the impact shook his entire body. His head flew away from the bars and then slammed back into the iron by reason of his bonds. Three more chairs followed, until Agonas could no longer approach the bars. He took a moment to sweep aside the debris.

'Please, master,' Ruvis said. 'Let me go, and I shall get the keys for you, I swear it by all the gods, I swear it by the unnameable and highest. Release me, I beg of you.'

'Now you wish me to believe you are the madman,' Agonas chuckled. For you must be mad if you think that I shall be so easily taken in. You know as well as I that, if I release you, you shall not return to me again.'

'Please,' panted Ruvis. 'You are not mad!' Another jolt struck him, as Agonas kicked against the bars.

'Now you contradict yourself, saying that I am not mad. Thus I can be sure that you are the madman, and that the words you speak are meaningless. So, no, I must contradict you, for I never trust madmen - I am, myself, quite mad.'

Another series of attacks came, until blood began to appear on the rags by which Ruvis was held. He could scarcely lift his head, and struggled for every breath.

'I suppose,' Agonas said, taking a break from his violence, 'that... I am not I.' He laughed. 'For you said I was mad, but then I had not yet broken apart all these chairs. But I have. Thus, if I did not, yet I did, then I am not I.' He wanted to laugh at his own words, but they struck him as truth. Fearing he truly was going mad, he simply shrugged and resumed his assault upon the door.

Ruvis died long before he broke the iron that bound the door to the wall. Agonas himself was battered with wounds ere the end. But the bars gave and the door fell open, crashing down upon the limp corpse of the silver haired elf.

Into Sunlan

His battle with the iron bars seemed to have emptied him of his fury. He walked calmly through the empty halls until he reached his own chambers. He clothed himself and bound his sword upon his waist. His belongings had not been plundered. By this he could tell that Pelas truly meant to release him, presumably after he had sat upon the throne of Ijjan and claimed his father's kingdom.

'Fool brother,' he said to himself. 'If Parganas truly steps down from his seat to make way for us, I will perish in amazement.'

The many years that they had spent in this land came before his eyes, and he remembered their oaths. He remembered how lost Pelas was on that morning so many years before, when they had been sent from their father's presence to bring his dominion over Sunlan. He sighed, and made his way into the council chamber. He lit a torch and searched around the room. It looked as though a wind had swept through the whole palace, carrying away its people but leaving their mugs and their plates, their papers and their quills where they lay.

He found a map, resting upon the table near the seat of Pelas. Looking upon it he saw marks of ink, showing the road as it wound eastward through North Sunlan and then south toward Sunlan Palace. His heart sank. 'Foolish,' he said, knowing that his brother had ignored his council and chosen to march against Sunlan from the north. 'In this way you shall weaken them indeed. And then Parganas himself will triumph. You will be a hero, brother, but you shall not be king.' He looked closer at the map and then ran his fingers over the ink. It was dry, but he saw the inkwell sitting near at hand. The ink had not dried up, though several days has passed. 'There is yet time,' he said, rushing from the room and out of the fortress.

There were no animals left behind in the stable, so he took to the road on foot, running for nearly seven leagues before exhaustion finally overtook him. He fell to the ground and slept upon the open road in the place where he landed.

Before the sun rose he was on his feet again, rushing through the woods toward the land of the Essenes. After two hours he came to a place where he knew there to be a farm. He made no demonstration of his authority; he simply marched into the fields and took one of the farmer's horses. He rode the animal bareback for three hours until he reached a village. It was a small village, and he knew not the name thereof - history has forgotten it as well. But there he found a better horse and purchased some supplies. He was in such haste that he did not reveal himself to the shopkeeper, but simply tossed a small bag of gold atop the counter. He rushed out before he could even hear the shopkeeper's gratitude - for he had paid thrice the worth of that which he took.

He rode this horse into the south until its legs gave out and it tumbled to the ground, just two miles north of a village of the Lupith.

It was night, so he made a small fire and ate a hasty meal. He stretched himself out beneath the stars and stared up at their unchanging forms. 'In all the ages of the world, you have not altered,' he said, repeating what he had been taught as a child. 'It would be futile to beg aid of you, then, you who never alter. For what you have decided you have decided already in ages past.' He rolled onto his side and looked at the earth. 'Be you as capricious as you will, oh dirt and filth; you at least alter even as they who trample you beneath their feet. Better to pray to the mud, then,' he said with a sneer. 'For if the gods above help us not, then to whom shall we look? Even as men look up to the heavens, so do the heavens look up to the earth.'

When the sun's first influence was discernible upon the land, Agonas rose and jogged into the village of Thedsin. His appearance seemed to send the brown haired inhabitants into a panic, as only Agonas and Dalta, among the lords of Ilvas, had such coal-dark hair. Some bowed in submission, knowing that it meant that some lord of the North had come to them. Others just fled at his sight. He found a horse with ease, and his attempt to pay for it with gold was thwarted by an insistent grunt. 'Nay my lord; death first, before I take gold from the Kings.'

Agonas looked at the man in amazement. 'Then take my thanks at least,' he said. 'And I shall not forget the kindness of Thedsin.'

He rode this horse a little more carefully, allowing it stop and rest periodically. He made sure to give it time to eat and he kept near to the river so that the horse could drink its fill of water.

After five days at this pace he came to a place called the Bend, where the Esse River departed from its southward descent, carving its way eastward for nearly twenty leagues. Agonas knew that this meant that he was very nearly parallel to the city of Sunlan itself. 'I just hope that Pelas has not attacked any elves. The men of Sunlan will forgive any transgression, so long as no immortal blood is spilt. But if Pelas has been unfortunate enough to have encountered the elves, there is nothing I can do.'

He took comfort in the fact that Pelas' army would undoubtedly march much slower than a single rider. 'If I do not reach him in time,' Agonas acknowledged, 'then I have no home, either in Alwan, Ilvas or Sunlan.'

The land into which he had come was populated only sparsely. The people shared no traditions with the Lupith or the Essenes, from which Agonas gathered that they were their own distinct race of men. But they were few and simple, and untroubled by the lords of Sunlan and Alwan alike. Among these people Agonas went unnoticed. They were not wholly unaccustomed to such strangers, as their land was the favorite route for all sorts of criminals, dissidents and spies. But they had learned to think nothing of it, and that ignoring such strangers brought them less trouble than minding them.

He bought some dried meat and paid handsomely for a new horse. The people were happy to receive his gold and even happier when he left without further troubling them. Aside from his purchases, the only conversation he had was when he asked by what means one might cross the Esse.

This question was met with looks such as one would find among those whose suspicions were confirmed. In as few words as possible, an older man explained to him that there was a water fall and a lake due east, and that the water, two leagues to the south, was shallow. 'One might walk the greater part of it, if they could withstand the current, and a strong horse could swim what remains.'

Agonas thanked them and left as soon as he was able, not wanting to trouble them any further than was necessary. It was nearly midnight when at last he came to the falls, so he set a fire and had a meal by the lakeside. Through all the ages that would follow, that night he would remember as the most peaceful time in his life. He lay for hours listening to the distant roar of the falls and hearing to the splash of fish as they leaped into the air after flies.

Morning came too fast, though, and then he was off, searching for the place the old man had mentioned. Just as he became convinced that he had gone too far, and that the old man meant to drown him, he discovered a narrow portion of the river where the stones could easily be seen. The current was strong, and it took a great deal of coaxing for him to get his horse to enter into the cold stream. But in the end he managed the crossing without difficulty, save for a few moments when he thought the current would carry the horse away from the shallows. The horse proved itself to be an intelligent animal, and the two of them made it at last to the land of Sunlan.

After a brief rest, Agonas again mounted the horse and rode with as fast as he was able into the east. He rode along the southern border of the Ancient Forest, knowing that at the eastern border he would find the King's Road, by which he might approach Sunlan Palace from the south. He was spotted by some sentries, but his horsemanship was far greater than theirs, and he left them far behind, coming to the great stone road just as evening fell. He rode through the night, trusting his horse to navigate the subtle turns of the stone road, occasionally prompting the animal back onto the stones when he heard the sound of grass or dirt beneath its hooves. In this way he came, by the time dawn arose, to the southern gates of Sunlan. He sued for an audience at the first sight of a guard. 'I am an ambassador of Ilvas!' he declared. 'I come with tidings of great urgency.'

They hurried him to a guard tower, where he was greeted by a captain of their guards, a tall brown haired elf named Uniroth.

'Have you any sign or proof of your commission?' he said, after listening to Agonas' plea.

'I am Agonas, the son of Parganas, King of Alwan,' he said, hoping the mere tone of his voice would serve as proof enough. This seemed to affect Uniroth somewhat, for he sent a courier to the palace, to seek council.

Much to his surprise, Unijan himself, the eldest son of King Ijjan, came to the guard tower. 'Hail son of Parganas!' he said in a booming voice. He wore a white tunic and gold armor. A crimson cloak was about his shoulders, and a steel sword hung naked at his side. It was, Agonas thought, armor such as one might wear in a parade, but not in battle. He assured himself that, had the men of Sunlan perceived his coming as a sign of peril, that Unijan would have garbed himself in his dwarf-steel armor, the fame of which had attached itself to his very name.

'Hail, Prince Unijan,' Agonas replied, remembering his ancient lessons in diplomacy. He laughed within himself as he recalled how seriously Pelas had taken such things, and how it was, in fact, he who had need of them.

'You know as well as I, my lord,' Agonas said in a submissive tone, 'how the lords of the west are wont to send their sons to their deaths on Doom Paths. So it has been with us. But as we have not seen fit to betray our neighbors the elves of Sunlan, our father has judged it necessary to march against us, and to make an end of us where Fate herself has failed him.'

'Knowing that we are as nothing before Lord Parganas,' Agonas continued, 'we therefore have fled our hiding place in the North, and we sue for peace and safety within your borders. If we might find grace in your eyes, please, my lord, let us serve you.'

Unijan rose up to his full height, standing nearly half a head taller than Agonas. 'Is that a blade of steel?' he asked Agonas, with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

'It is, my lord,' Agonas said, handing the blade to Unijan. The Prince took the sword and examined it. 'I have not seen its like in many years,' he said with a puzzled look upon his face. 'We used to get such blades from the dwarves, but they have ceased trading with us for the time being, as their fickle nature requires.'

He paused for a moment as he examined the blade. 'I did not know that Ilvas had dealings with the dwarves.'

'We have not,' Agonas said quite honestly. 'But we have had dealings with some of the merchants who travel from Sunlan.'

'I see,' Unijan said, nodding understandingly and returning the blade to Agonas.

Within the hour Agonas found himself kneeling before the throne of Ijjan himself, who was robed in purple with a golden crown upon his head. 'May the goddess Evnai bless you with eternal health,' Agonas said, touching his forehead to the marble floor of Ijjan's Grand Hall.

Seated at his right was the queen, a woman with sharp features and golden hair. Her appearance was very different from that of Ijjan, whose face was soft and kind. Indra, who stood beside her father in a long silk dress with bare sleeves, was a perfect mix of the two, the sharpness of her mother's nose was tempered by the round features of her father, but not lost.

Agonas avoided her gaze for as long as he was able, but she stared at him unblinking until at last, when he chanced a look at her, their eyes met, not for the first time. His heart sank, for he knew that it was within her power to destroy him, even as he lay prostrate before her father. Unijan seemed to notice this, and fidgeted within his armor, laying his observation aside for the present.

When his tale had been told in full before Ijjan's court, the king rose from his seat. Every knee touched the ground as the noble lord of Sunlan stepped from his throne. He stepped carefully from the dais upon which the royal family usually remained, and approached Agonas. 'Rise son,' he said, extending his hand toward Agonas.

Agonas rose, though he was careful to keep his head bowed low.

'If your people will swear their loyalty before the goddess of Sunlan, then we shall welcome you as brothers. You need not fear the devices of your father in our land, for our steel and our wealth are greater than his iron and his tyranny. I have, as you shall soon learn, many sons, none of whom I have betrayed to their deaths to preserve my own authority. They are happy, and I am safe, for I do not rule with an evil hand.'

'I thank you, my lord,' Agonas said, and then with some urgency he said, 'I am afraid, my king, that the people of Sunlan, not expecting the arrival of so many strong men, will challenge them at arms. I do not wish for any man or elf to be slain, either among our own people nor among the people of Sunlan. Let me, therefore, ride into the north with an envoy of your court, that we may welcome them properly.'

'So it shall be done,' Ijjan said cheerfully.

[Chapter IX:  
The Longer Road](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Army In Sunlan

Pelas and his army left a trail of burning villages as it marched through northern Sunlan. The Essenes, knowing their purpose, had come out in force to challenge the elves. But they could not stand before him. Seven villages they destroyed utterly, slaying every man, woman and child, and carrying away their gold and silver.

'Prepare yourselves,' Pelas ordered his captains, 'For we shall battle elves ere the week is through. Ghestus is a day's march to our south, and then Lubine. They are in elven lands, and they will not fall easily. Be courageous! We shall have the Palace ere the autumn leaves descend.'

His captains cheered and his army followed their lead.

Amro and Ghastin marched among them, though they had not, as yet, made any use of their weapons. 'Shall we not partake in these battles?' Ghastin asked.

'No, let them do it themselves,' Amro replied. 'These lands were once our home, and the people therein have done nothing to us. Fate has led us to this place, but Fate cannot force my hand.'

'But how shall we ever gain the trust of our master?' Ghastin queried.

Amro looked at him with sadness, 'Ghastin, you are my younger brother, and you once counseled me. We would have died had it not been for those strange doctrines you learned from the Essenes. For I would have fought to the death to preserve our freedom. Have you forgotten them already?'

'I have told you before,' Ghastin affirmed, 'I remember nothing of our life in Lubine, save for the heat of the furnace.'

'But you trust me, brother?' Amro asked.

'Of course,' he replied.

'The know this: You cannot trust these men. They will turn against us the moment it suits them. Serve them, as they give us our bread. But do not work evil for their sakes – not more than you must.'

Ghastin said nothing, and the two let the matter rest for a time. 'Very well,' Ghastin nodded. 'I won't exhaust myself for the sake of Pelas. But any danger comes to Ele, Dalia or yourself, I shall not hesitate to paint the world red with blood.'

'You were not always a vengeful person, brother,' Amro sighed.

When the army at last came within sight of Ghestus, they could see a great force approaching them from the south. 'How could they have been apprised of our coming?' Pelas marveled, his voice betraying his fears.

'I do not know, my lord,' Bralohi said. 'I cannot imagine that any would dare betray the son of Parganas.'

Even as they stood pondering, an envoy of Sunlan came riding out to them. At first Pelas thought that the man at their lead wore a helm with a black plume, but as the rider approached, he realized that it was the long dark hair of the envoy that was flying about in the wind. For a moment, Pelas thought that it was his brother riding toward the army of Ilvas, but he soon mastered his intuition and laughed at himself. In this way, Pelas was doubly surprised, having fully convinced himself that he was mistaken. But when the rider came fully within view he realized, this time for certain, that the envoy truly was his brother Agonas.

'Wha-?' was all that he could say.

'Pelas!' Agonas shouted. 'I would speak to you, brother.'

'You would betray us? After all that has transpired?' Pelas whimpered.

Agonas laughed with a cruel and injured voice. 'You speak of betrayal, brother, and how can I doubt but that you know betrayal when you see it? For was it any less of a betrayal for you to leave me bound behind iron in Ilvas while you brought glory to yourself. Or so you thought. I have seen the army of Sunlan, and it is not to glory that you bring your people.'

'What would you have us do? Cower and beg at the table of Ijjan, even as you have done?'

'We have only ever had one choice, brother. Parganas will not have us, and Sunlan will not fall to our pitiful force. The road to life, be it glorious or not, is through submission.'

'I will not allow it,' Pelas said, incredulously.

'Brother!' Agonas pleaded. 'Listen to me, even as I speak the army of Sunlan prepares to welcome you to their nation as allies. They believe that you come in flight from our father, and not in conquest. They will forget what you have done to the mortals, but they will never forgive our people if we harm the elves.'

'This is foolishness,' Pelas said. 'You have turned your back on Ilvas.'

'Pelas, they have forty-thousand warriors, armed in steel, that may be summoned from their towers and fortresses within a week's time. Moreover, they have, I understand, some eighty-thousand mortal warriors, armed in leather and iron, but armed nonetheless. What is our tally, with the women and children, mortals and sickly?'

'Forty-thousand!' Pelas said, with fear escaping the careful control he normally exercised over his tone of voice. His servants began to look fearful, but none dared to interfere.

'See brother? We cannot defeat them.'

'You speak like a coward,' Pelas grunted and he turned as if he would command his army to attack.

At that moment Agonas leaped from his steed and knocked Pelas from his own horse. The two began to struggle, their armor clanging against the rocks on the ground. Pelas struck Agonas in the nose, pouring blood down his face. Agonas knocked a tooth from his brother's jaw. They went in turns, one landing a blow and then the other, until it seemed that in the end they would make an end of each other. No struggle can last forever, and in the end it was Agonas that was fated to win this match of equals, if for no other reason than that at last Pelas seemed to accept that the conquest of Sunlan was not yet within their grasp.

Through a bloodied face he panted, 'Agonas, you would have us turn against our father?'

'No, brother. But insofar as he has turned against us and made himself our enemy, it is all we can do to survive. Do not fear, brother, we are not mortal men, nor shall we ever truly be servants of Sunlan.'

'Survive?' Pelas scoffed. 'Where is the glory in that?' He smiled slightly as he said this, understand for a moment at least, how absurd his expectations had been. But this sensibility quickly passed and he brought himself to accept the lot that had fallen to him. He washed his face and rode out with his brother to Unijan, where the two of them bowed themselves low to the ground and vowed to serve Sunlan with all their might.

Unijan, now dressed in his dwarf-steel armor, held his blade over their heads and spoke in a firm voice. 'Will you now swear, by the ancient powers of the world, that you will have no power over our goddess Evnai, who rules over us with wisdom. Agonas and Pelas looked to one another from the corner of their eyes, and swore, their hearts filling to the brim with amusement. For they understood that their oath meant only that they would not act against the goddess, who had left Sunlan ages ago. They did not, however, swear anything at all concerning Sunlan, though, in swearing to Evnai, the men of Sunlan believed that they had truly bound themselves to their service.

Ijjan's Servants

So it was that the sons of Parganas became, for a time, vassals of King Ijjan, lord of Sunlan. The mortals who had served them were quickly lost among the Essenes of Northern Sunlan, and many of their elvish servants, also, mixed with the people of Sunlan. The greater part of them, however, remembered their old allegiances and remained loyal first and foremost to Pelas and Agonas.

The lords of Ilvas were given lands to govern and every pleasure they might require. They learned every art and every trade from the people of Sunlan, and surpassed them in many. Amro returned, for a brief while, to the public trade of a smith, making weapons for the army of Sunlan as he had before.

Dalta soon rose to prominence in the military, being named captain of Centan, a city built along the Midthalon River. Kolohi traveled the land, gathering what wisdom he could from both the mortals and immortals alike. Bralohi remained ever at Lord Pelas' side, ensuring that he was paid every respect that was due to one of his heritage. His sons traveled about the land, serving Ijjan in whatever way he deemed appropriate. Sol was given lordship over the barren stretch of shore that separated the Talon Mountains from the Great Waters.

Falruvis never fully accepted Agonas' tale concerning his father's death. He was told that Ruvis had released Pelas' brother, fearing for the safety of the army, but had perished in the crossing of the Esse River as the two rushed to Sunlan Palace. He knew that he could not contradict him, for no one could go to Ilvas to discover the truth of the matter. But within himself and to Oblis and Cheru he grumbled, 'How could Agonas survive what my own mighty father could not?'

Though his intuitions were correct, everyone knew that this was a hollow complaint. He could press the matter no further without incurring the wrath of Agonas, to whom he was yet subject.

Pelas, though he was grieved over the loss of his servant, knew without hearing the true tale that Agonas had killed Ruvis, and that his story was a fabrication. But he realized, upon seeing the full size and might of Sunlan's army, that Agonas had done so to save his own life. This brief time, as a result, was the most peaceful time the brothers enjoyed. Having no immediate hope of supplanting the lord of Sunlan, they were no longer rivals, and they could extend their hands in friendship without fear or enmity.

Cheru, Oblis and Ginat, those warriors whose might in arms served to counterbalance their simplicity in mind, stayed ever in the sight of Pelas, doing whatever they were asked without question and, generally, without understanding. This blind devotion won for them an appreciation that Pelas did not bear toward any other soul. For even Bralohi, though he served Pelas honorable, did not do so without at least bearing within himself some doubt or some critical thoughts. Such things were, Pelas thought, quite beyond these three servants, however, and where Bralohi might question his judgment, even if subtly and respectfully, these three could be relied upon to act decisively and immediately.

Parganas

When the report was brought back to Alwan, that the sons of Parganas had crossed into Sunlan, his fury was such that even his captains fled from his presence. He thrust a spear through the belly of the messenger, and watched him bleed to death on the stone floor of his hall. 'I defeated the gods!' he shouted in anger, 'And they betray me to serve the peacock-king Ijjan, decked in gold and purple like a concubine.' It mattered not to him that he had given orders to his captains to plunder Ilvas, and to slay any who remained within its walls. Moreover, he had commanded that, if his sons remained within his borders, they should be taken as traitors and beheaded. No Doom Path had ever taken so long, although, neither had any Doom Path been as grand as that upon which the sons of Parganas had been sent. Many noble elf sons had perished in desperate wars and vanished on hunts for gold and wealth, some perishing and some fleeing Bel Albor forever. But none had been commanded to seize an elvish kingdom by force.

Lady Aedanla was summoned to his palace, but she refused. In anger, he banished her from the north, stripping her of all wealth and honor, sending her across the Great Lake upon a merchant's ship, from whence she is lost to history.

Lord Parganas, in the years following the departure of his sons into Sunlan, sent messengers to all those who remained who had fought against the army of Vitiai. Those who were still living he set over great multitudes of mortal men. Those men who refused to fight for him were condemned and punished by the cruelest means. In this way he brought the whole land into submission and gathered greater tribute than he had ever done before, every penny of which was used for the enlargement of his military power. He did not dream that Pelas would ever join with Sunlan, for he knew his son's pride. He thought at the very least that Pelas and his brother would wound Sunlan so that, while its head turned to its bleeding northern fortresses, Parganas would cross the Esse and thrust a blade into the back of the nation, taking Sunlan Palace itself. At it stood, however, Parganas came to understand that if he was ever to truly rule in Bel Albor, he must take possession of Sunlan by his own power.

'Even as it was when I made an end of the gods upon Vitiai,' he said to himself. His false history still maintained that Vitiai was once the home of the elves, though ruined by jealous mortals. 'I must bring an end to Sunlan's pretenses myself.'

Foreseeing his preparations, Agonas prepared the land of Sunlan to welcome those of Alwan who were loyal to Pelas and his brother. Bralohi's father Lohi, the lord of Lushlin, and his entire house, and many other noble families with him set aside their estates and their possessions and came across the Esse to serve the King of Sunlan. Every elf who crossed the river to Ijjan was stricken from Lord Parganas' records and declared enemies of Bel Albor.

The Beasts and the Beauty

During those years, the number of which is lost to history, Pelas dwelt mostly in Evnai, the great port that guarded the eastern shores of Sunlan. There he soon rose to prominence and was given command over the tradesmen of the city. It was he that oversaw the receipt of custom and who ensured that nothing contraband was carried from the land of Sunlan. In due course he himself took to the sea, being given command over a great warship. Upon this vessel he rid the coast of Sunlan of pirates, and thereby won great favor in the eyes of Ijjan. Also, he for the first time began to open his eyes to the vast world that lay beyond Bel Albor, hearing tales of strange tribes of men and elves, dwarf kingdoms, and mysterious creatures. With all the tales and fables he heard in those days he scarcely held on to the philosophy of his mother, who had, all those years ago, instilled within him the doctrine that he was the axle around which the world turned. But if ever there was a soul that could see his own insignificance yet retain his full measure of pride, it was Lord Pelas Parganascon.

Agonas was made a marshall of the army of Sunlan, and he soon proved his strength in the north by driving several tribes of goblins to extinction. Unijan would have made him a captain in the city, but his father was reluctant. 'We do not yet know whether their hearts be true or not,' he insisted. But Unijan did not doubt Agonas in the least. 'He has proven himself our ally insofar as he has put his very life in danger against the goblins of the north.'

'For a man of his strength, the goblins that vexed us are not a danger,' Ijjan answered.

'But surely Sunlan is mightier than was Ilvas?' Unijan asked in surprise.

'Indeed, but are the people of Sunlan mightier than the sons of Parganas?' Ijjan replied.

Unijan looked at his father with a puzzled face.

Ijjan sighed. 'I am not ready to trust them so fully.'

'What would you have of them?' his son asked, 'Would you send them on a Doom Path, though they are not your sons?'

'I will not send them anywhere.'

'But what will you do, my lord?'

'You shall see; and then we shall see if their hearts are with Sunlan or not.'

On the first day of Spring, the sons of Parganas were summoned to Sunlan Palace to appear together before the King. That day marked the holiest of the sacred feasts the elves of Sunlan celebrated. The priests of Sunlan had a saying, 'Summer is false. Autumn is empty. Winter is barren, but Spring is beauty.' This little rhyme was meant to unite within the minds of the people the beauty of their goddess, who was deceived, betrayed and abandoned, with the changing seasons. In this way what was a sorry tale of a lover forsaken became a cosmic epic, celebrated by mortal and immortal alike. The elves took every advantage over the mortals who could not uncover the falsities by which the elves maintained their ascendance.

On this holy day the elves gathered in great numbers. The Guests, as the elves of Ilvas and Lushlin had come to be called, were present in great numbers, almost matching the number of noble-born lords of Sunlan. With all their old servants gathered from the furthest reaches of Sunlan, Agonas and Pelas drank and celebrated freely, enjoying the company of their old companions. Lohi was present also, and he sat with Bralohi and Kolohi, along with their children. Kolohi's sons, who he had left as children, had followed their grandfather when he fled from Alwan. Their mother, Wellin, came also, but she refused to so much as speak to Kolohi, having been abandoned by him when the elves first fled to Ilvas. These two, Kollorn the elder and Kuxni the younger, were not trained in war at all, much to the amusement of their cousins, the sons of Bralohi, who had all attained perfection in the military arts. They were learned men, and they took to the libraries and archives of Sunlan, drawing much wisdom from the eastern elves of Bel Albor.

As the feast drew to an end, Ijjan rose from his seat, which was generally understood to mark the end of the holiday. But he did not retire to his quarters; turning toward the Guests, he said, 'Four days ago, I was tormented by a dream, or a vision - I know not which. But there was, in this dream, a beast of immense size. It's skin was armor, its claws - steel. No mortal or immortal dared face it. And it consumed the land until naught but desert remained. Likewise, there was a great fish of the sea - nay it was like an eel, but was larger than a warship. This beast emptied the waters so that there remained nothing alive therein. So also was there a bird of flame, scorching the air so that it could not be breathed. I am undone!' he lamented as he finished describing these monsters. 'This shall be my last feast, for I cannot fill my own belly while this dread terror consumes the very soul of the earth. I shall celebrate no more while these terrors devour life, land and future alike.'

The whole assembly fell into absolute silence. One man coughed, and another pushed his chair away from the table, but nothing more disturbed the quiet. Agonas and Pelas looked at one another with great surprise.

'Whosoever shall deliver me from these terrors, or prove them to be dreams only, him shall I reward with greater honors than I have hitherto given to man or elf.'

Later, Unijan came to him and asked, 'Father, is this so? Are you truly thus vexed? Why have you not spoken to me, your eldest son?'

Ijjan looked at him with disappointment. 'You insult me, Unijan, if you believe that I would reward another what I withheld from my own son.'

Unijan bowed low, touching his forehead to his father's hands.

'The hand of fair Indra is that of which I speak,' he said. 'And I would have you handle this danger, Unijan - you of all men, mortal and immortal alike, are most capable of the task. But I wish to see what these brave men of Ilvas are capable of accomplishing. And if they fail, then we need not worry about them. But to whomsoever I give the beautiful Indra, I shall receive therefrom eternal loyalty. For there is no man alive that could bear to see her weep.'

Departure

The oldest known calendar, either of elvish or mortal fabrication, begins on the day that Pelas and Agonas set out from Sunlan on a great warship. They sailed at dawn, gliding over the waves into the rising sun. Pelas said to his brother, 'Do you not feel like a god?'

Agonas laughed, and then agreed. 'It is a good day to be a god.'

As their ship moved away from the docks they looked behind them to see a great host of vessels following after, some to accompany them, and others just to bid them farewell. The high elves of Ilvas sailed along with them, with many others beside them. There were elves of Lushlin and of Sunlan, and even a few mortals of the Knariss, who proved to be greater mariners than even the elves.

A great celebration had been enjoyed on the eve of their departure, and many gifts were given to them. Pelas was given, by Ijjan himself, a golden helm with wings like an eagle's and a large plume of white feathers. Unijan gave Agonas an ashen spear with a dwarf-steel spearhead, forged to look like a serpent's head. One-hundred ships sailed that day, and two-hundred more would sail on the morrow, to join them on the northern coast of Tel Arie, in the land that would eventually be called Olgrost. There were several human settlements in that region, and it was there that the sons of Parganas would begin their search for the Beasts of the Earth, Sea and Wind.

They did not return to Sunlan for nearly three years.

End of Book I
[Book II:  
Dalia the Mariner](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

[Chapter I:  
The Daughter of Ele](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Poem

When Marin Fortress was at last destroyed, and when an end was made to the royal heir, a poem was discovered written across the back of Marin's throne. It was nothing in comparison to the works of the elves, who for many ages had nothing better to do with themselves than wrestle with words and rhymes. It might have been the work of a student for all that can be said of its quality. But nonetheless it has been shown by some of our scholars to have originated, at least in part, long before the Marin Quendom was established.

Though Marin herself (and here I speak of the office of Queen, and not the person herself) has always interpreted these passages as referring symbolically to herself, it is clear to those who have not altogether forgotten history (and here I speak of the Lapulians) that the poem was written in honor of Dalia, the mother of she who was first called by the name Marin.

The poem has become somewhat well known, but the verses thereof have not yet been fully explained. That being the case, I will, in this present work, give an exposition of each line of the poem, describing the events such as history has retained for us. This will serve two purposes: Firstly, it has direct bearing upon the story already begun - of how the gods came to rule in Weldera, and how Pelas rose to the seat from which he would rule over Bel Albor for some three-thousand years. Secondly, it will serve as a fitting memorial for the people of Marin, who are, as a nation, destroyed, and as a people, abused and forsaken, having lost their kingdom and culture now nearly a hundred years ago.

There are surely some among us who will not appreciate this work, and who will condemn it out of hand for putting in a somewhat better light the forbears of a people who have, lately, been reviled and cursed. I needn't remind Lapulians, however, that with the exception of the Great Welderan War, our own people were as often mired in conspiracy and subterfuge as Marin Quendom - and too often it was with Marin that our own nation conspired. If hypocrisy is the greatest of sins, as the author of the Wars of Weldera has, in his second book, suggested, then those men of Lapulia who bring down the gavel in judgment against Marin do so to the detriment of their own skulls - for a gavel must strike something. They judge themselves when, in the matter they judge, they make themselves indistinguishable from those against whom they rant and rage.

The poem is called 'Dalele Marinea' in the tongue of the elves, but is known among mortals by the title, 'Dalia the Mariner'. To hide its relation to the elvish histories, the people of Marin changed the name of Pelas to Palsen, which signifies one weak of spirit.

It reads as follows:

Hear now the tale of Dalele Marinea!

How she did take her lover's place,

When fell he into sad disgrace,

Wealth and fame did he lack in full,

Yet she chose not another soul.

In peril their deep love was tried,

His injured body; injured pride,

The man in pain lay thus broken,

To her lord he gave no token.

To save their love did she set sail,

That joy over pain would prevail,

To satisfy her father's will,

While her beloved yet lay ill.

Thus she sailed south to Tel Arie,

Knowing not her fate it would be,

To mother the bold Queen thereof,

By a wicked man she'd never love.

Lord Palsen did she four times save,

When Folly lured him toward the grave,

By cunning mind and mighty arm,

She spared him from many a harm.

When dark Lapul was roused to fight,

Her great skill put their fleet to flight,

Back into their harbor to mourn,

Their faces white, their heads forlorn,

When first the Serpent did they find,

Dalele left not a soul behind,

But bled red blood that they might be,

Saved from the master of the sea.

When creatures strange assailed the fleet,

She shrunk not from a daring feat,

But with a fatal dwarf-steel spear,

Taught the water-born beasts to fear.

And when at last they faced their Foe,

When mighty men in boats did row,

She did not cow'r as others might,

But leapt from deck in black of night.

Naught but sea between her and death,

She struggled till her final breath,

Did all but leave her breast at last,

Yet to the beast she held on fast.

Her blade sunk deep in scaly mesh,

Water turned red from wounded flesh,

Dalele had slain her fearsome foe,

His carcass sunk beneath the flow.

These deeds won her a rich reward,

In honor of her mighty sword,

Wealth and riches enough to pay,

The demand which on her lover lay.

To her lover's arms she returned,

To find his passion bright still burned,

Then swore they their eternal love,

Beneath the starry host above.

And when in ages later came,

Fell Vantu to defile her name,

Her lover, filled with mournful ire,

Slew him, his sword a vengeful fire.

Though lovers both have gone away,

The stars above still hold their sway,

Over the land on which they fought,

And by their trials true love wrought.

Tel Arie of Old

The southern world; the world out of which mankind (and elvenkind also) first came was almost completely ignored by the people of Bel Albor. Most in Alwan, both elves and men alike, were completely ignorant concerning the land and its inhabitants. Comically, the high elves in the days of Lord Parganas were not altogether unlike the men of Falsis prior to the Weldera War and the rise of the Nihlihirna philosophy. They knew only what lay within their borders, and nothing of the people beyond their lands. Moreover, the doctrines of Lord Parganas were such that discovery and exploration were discouraged, lest by investigating the world his own doctrines and histories would be overthrown.

Sunlan had some established trade routes whereby tales from as far off as Kharku made their way into their shores. But their sailors never traveled farther than Olgrost and Vestron, which in those days was more hospitable to merchant ships. It was not until at least a thousand years after the destruction of Bel Albor that the northern coast of that land was given over to goblins and pirates.

It is a tale lost to time in its entirety, how Amro's father came to learn his craft among the dwarves of Kharku.

The elves of Sunlan certainly knew of Lapulia; and they knew enough, for the most part, to keep to themselves.

Not having lived in Sunlan long enough to fully grasp the gravity of this circumstance, Pelas, as we shall see in due time, made the mistake of first sailing southwest along the coast of Olgrost.

The northern lands of Tel Arie were much closer one to another in those days. What is now Kollun Isle was then simply the westernmost bulge of Olgrost, the western border of which was the Noth sea. This sea was fed by many rivers, the greatest of which was the Nele, which was comparable to the Fulani of Solsis in its girth - if our scholars are correct about its dimensions. This river flowed north through western Olgrost from a mountain that has since sunk beneath the ocean – or so our sages say. It is along the path of this river that our scholars believe the split between Olgrost and Kollun was affected. Beyond the source of the Nele lay a vast ocean, called the Soth Sea by the inhabitants of Dominas.

Beginning in the West:

Ere the sundering of the earth, Weldera was unmarred by any mountains or heights. Where Dadron hill now stands there was a great crater, which was the result of some ancient calamity now long forgotten, if ever its origin was known. The wicked men of Weldera, who dwelt there long before the Noras, used to toss their children therein, thinking that they were, by so doing, feeding Arie (the earth) and ensuring its fertility. They called the crater 'Tel Arie', which, literally translated means, 'The mouth of the Earth'. How this term came to refer to all the land from Weldera to Kharku, I cannot but guess. It would seem that some ancient elf explorers (and there were many such people, despite elvish pretensions) must have witnessed their brutal display and, as they fled back to safer lands, reported that the whole land was peopled by the devil worshippers of Tel Arie. Certainly some such thing occurred, however, as it was with Bel Albor's ignorant inhabitants that this misnomer originated; the people of 'Tel Arie' had each their own names for their lands and for the whole of the world.

The Coronan Mountains did not exist, and the whole land between Falsis and Zyprion was one great wood. Some say the Mountains of Desset stood even as they stand now, but there is little reason to think such was the case.

The Marchers of Olgrost, who have come to rule the world it would seem, say this is the case, for according to their philosophy they must find some way to make the dwarves into descendants of men, and it would not do to have, as all evidence suggests, the dwarves originating in the south and only making their way into the north little by little.

In the days of Pelas there was no division between the Zyprion, the Heyan and the Noras forest - it was all one great wood. The volcanic eruption that eventually did create the Desset Mountains is, in all likelihood, the event that first sundered the Heyan-Noras wood from the Zyprion, and is therefore the explanation of how the two more recent divisions are more like one another than they are like Zyprion in the west. This fiery eruption essentially created the land that is now called Amlaman.

The southern portion of Zyprion, as it passed into Illmaria, was inhabited by many fantastic animals, all of which were hunted to the death by the elves when at last they conquered the western lands of Tel Arie.

This land became increasingly barren as it went southward until it came the festering swamps of Gilwela, named by Bralohi himself after Gilwel in old Bel Albor. Beyond Gilwela was the land of Malgiat, the mystery of which even the Lapulians in all our wisdom have yet to uncover.

In the east:

Olgrost was, as Weldera was, one undivided territory, covered from end to end by immense forests. The word for tree, in fact, in the ancient tongue of Dominas, was 'Olg', from whence is derived both Olger (signifying 'many trees') and Olgrost ('ost' meaning, literally, 'the host of', but more understandably, 'The land of' or 'land that hosts').

The Zoor Mountains were, as our forefathers have recorded, much higher in those days, but much less expansive. It was only after the catastrophe of Bel Albor that they, having fallen over on top of themselves, became the sprawling ruin of a mountain range that they are at present. Either way, whether they be high or long, they have ever served to guard Lapulia against the barbarous tribes of Olgrost, be they of Marin, the Ohhari, Vestron, Harz or Merkata. The dwarves who now dwell there came only to live in that region after the wars of Xanthur. Before the Catastrophe it is uncertain whether any dwarves dwelt outside of Kharku. Goblins, however, dwelt wherever there was food and water.

South of Zoor!

South of Zoor is the land of Dominas, so named because it was fated, our ancestors thought, to rule over all the world. But a full description of Lapulia itself, and its peculiar history, must find itself in another place. For now, I restrict myself to a description of the land.

The Zoor mountains have kept Dominas safe from the warlike people of Olgrost and Vestron alike. South of these is a land of gentle hills and lush forests, broken in the east by the Sernaga River. East of this river lies the land of Snakil, where the superstition dragon worshippers live. Some have speculated that it was from among these people that the Merkata were originated.

In the center of the land lies the forest of Nandor, which is nourished by the Harz River. It is from this forest that the Harz Nobles left for Vestron to conquer the Ohhari. During the age with which we are concerned they were yet a clan of simple warriors living in the deepest parts of the Nandor forest. One war and one war only was waged between Lapulia and Nandor, and the result was such that no man of that forest ever again took a weapon in hand against our cities.

The men of Snakil, on the other hand, were never quite able to learn the lesson their western neighbors came to understand. And the Lapulians have had many a war with them as a result. These wars, with the exception of the war which gave rise to Czylost, universally ended badly for the people of Snakil.

Built along the eastern coast of Dominas, some two hundred leagues from the foothills of Zoor, is the city of Lapulia, that center of learning and wisdom, and of wisdom so-called. Towering above the city is the Magic Tower, atop which lives and rules the High Mage, who watches over mankind and who seeks to understand, insofar as it is possible, all things.

South of Lapulia there was a great rise in the land, so that from the south Lapulia was well protected. This terrain was augmented by a great many fortresses and towers, walls and barracks, all of which made Lapulia virtually unapproachable except along the Wissen Road, which entered the city from the east. South of this fortified land the terrain became more gentle and a long stretch of farmlands and woodlands dotted the country, finally coming to an end at the Soth sea, where Dominas came to an end altogether.

Beyond the Soth lay Kharku, of which no map yet speaks the full truth.

All of these lands were known by the elves of Bel Albor as the Deathlands, so named for the fate of their inhabitants.

Thuruvis

Among those who made the journey to Sunlan from Alwan was a young elf named Thuruvis. He was in some distant way a relative of Ruvis, though none have ever accurately explained their relation. He traveled in the caravan of Lohi, when he answered the summons of his sons to Sunlan. He was a quiet young man, at the time no more than thirty years old - in the reckoning of the elves he was a mere youth. He worked hard, however, and eventually found himself serving the household of Dalta in Centan.

He was as skilled with a spear and sword as he was with a plough and a pen. In this way he became useful wherever he happened to be sent. His hair was golden, like unto the people of Sunlan. He was tall and strong, but his countenance was always somber and his spirit was quiet and diminished. For this reason his masters frequently thought that he was one easily taken advantage of. And to an extent, this was the case. He would not tolerate abuse, however. During the time that the elves of Alwan and Ilvas dwelt in Sunlan, he did very little of import, slowly making his way from one master to another, sometimes being highly praised and other times being sent away as something just slightly better than a criminal.

At last, nearly twelve years before Pelas sailed from Sunlan, he was hired by the servants of Dalta as a swordsman, and placed among the warriors in Centan. He eventually was given command over a small group of soldiers, and ordered to patrol certain portions of the Esse River. When he proved to be a competant leader he was given a larger band and send to the Talon mountains to aid Agonas in his campaign against the goblins. He returned from the Talons with the highest praise from Agonas himself, and was presented to Dalta as one deserving greater honors. It was then, when he was brought before Dalta, that he was first noticed by Dalia, the daughter of Ele.

For the next several years he served as a guard at Dalta's own residence. He was given the duty of training warriors for battle in the Talons as well as preparing them for work along the borders. He was put in charge not only of the mortal servants of Sunlan, but also over many other elves.

Dalia loved him from the very first moment she laid her eyes upon him. There was something so dignified in his manner, she thought; in the way he was proud but not arrogant, and how he was intelligent but not loud of speech.

The last thing Thuruvis thought he needed, however, was trouble with his employer. If he had noticed Dalia's attentions, he would have requested a position in the Talon mountains with Agonas, or asked to be sent to the Esse to guard the crossings. For a full year he labored in Centan, training men to fight and managing the guard at Centan ere he realized that his master's daughter loved him. By that time he had come to find her quite beautiful and he found himself quite unable to do that which he would earlier have deemed wisest. He avoided her as much as possible, but was still constrained to render her some degree of honor and courtesy. But each honorable word and each gesture of politeness only seemed to make her love grow deeper, and make her affection more obvious.

When he was nearby, he noticed, doors would not open for her, burdens would become too heavy, and riddles would be too difficult for her.

'Thuruvis!' she would call to him with a smile.

'What is your desire, my lady?' he replied, as the servants were trained to respond.

'I have lost my sandal,' she might say, sheepishly.

Thuruvis would then set aside whatever else had occupied him and attend to her needs.

'It was not so lost as you have imagined, my lady,' he said, coming as close to chastising her as he dared. The sandal was simply beneath a footstool. His frustration only seemed to endear him to her. Eventually he gave up all hope of driving her away.

Still, he knew that he could not have her, for she was the daughter of a High Elf, as all the chief servants of Pelas were known to those of Ilvas and Alwan. In this way the servants of Pelas and of Agonas retained their identity even within their new environment.

When this frustration became too great for him to bear he turned upon her and took her hands into his own. She pulled away from his grip at first, frightened by his sudden show of passion. But he would not relent until she pried his fingers from her wrists. She slapped his cheek, but so strong was he that his face did not turn and he did not flinch - she might as well have struck a statue of bronze.

'There,' he said, 'you are not so helpless as you pretend, Lady Dalele.'

'I should say not!' she said fiercely. 'I am the daughter of Dalta, the dark elf of Ilvas, and I have Amro the mighty smith for a kinsman.'

'Yet you struggle with a basket of apples,' Thuruvis said with a severe voice. 'So that, on three occasions you have needed my assistance to bear your burden.'

'How dare you!' she said with anger, but a tear dripped down her face.

Thuruvis' heart melted within him at the sight of her tears. He sighed, and took her hands again, this time gently. 'My lady,' he began, 'You do me a disservice.'

She swallowed hard, looking ashamed.

'You know that I cannot marry you,' he said. 'I am a servant and a warrior, not a High Elf. I have never seen Ilvas, and I have never so much as set eyes upon the Lord Pelas, who is your father's master.'

She drew near to him and kissed him upon the lips, grasping his cheeks in her hand. He did not resist her, but he stood still and silent, not wishing to do her any dishonor.

'Will you refuse to kiss me?' she demanded. 'Though you are but a servant?'

Thuruvis grew angry. 'Should I kiss my master's daughter? When it is he who gives me both bed and bread? Shall I take more than my wages, stealing away what is most precious to him? Have I rendered services to him such that my reward should be so great? How should lord Dalta look upon me, if I was such a man?'

She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hand to stop her. 'Moreover,' he continued, 'I will not be drawn to your bosom by any other power than your love. If you wish for me to be your lover, then never call me a servant again. If a servant I must remain, then honor requires of you that you leave me in peace, and do not tempt my passions any further.'

'Love me, then,' she said, bursting into tears, 'And I shall become the servant, and your equal.'

'Nay, my lady,' he said softly. 'I cannot accept such a godly gift. For I cannot receive your hand from lord Dalta, and I would not steal you away like a barbarian - to live as a barbarian too. For no man can steal the daughter of a High Elf without incurring the wrath of Pelas and Agonas. I HAVE seen Agonas, and I cannot cross him.'

Hope of Marriage

After this encounter, Dalia withdrew somewhat from Thuruvis for a time. He was sent to Agonas again in the Talons, and for a brief time he was sent to the Great Lake of Brost in the south. As it was in all other things, he soon mastered the art of sailing and was recommended to Lord Pelas himself as a suitable captain. When he was asked whether he wished to travel to Evnai or no, he chose to stay in Centan. For he could not be parted from Dalia, though they had scarcely spoken since the time of their confrontation.

When she heard how he refused the offer to sail in one of Lord Pelas' fleets, however, she sought him out and kissed him deeply, even as she had kissed him before. Now, having come nearly to the end of his strength, he put his arm around her waist and returned her affection.

Though it lasted but a moment, and though they both fully decided within themselves that it was foolishness, a human servant saw their embrace, and gossiped until the rumor came to lord Dalta's own ears.

Dalia, upon hearing what had transpired, let loose such fury that Dalta became convinced that the servant had lied, and hung her the next morning. Nevertheless, from that day forth he was suspicious of Thuruvis, and did everything in his power to keep him occupied in places where he knew his daughter would not go.

Six times was the hand of Dalia sought by men of great renown. Unijan himself asked after her, admiring her ebony hair - a rarity in golden Sunlan. Falruvis, also, made an attempt to persuade Dalta to marry her to him. This Dalia refused politely, and Dalta thought little of it at the time. But when she refused also the advances of Cheru, Oblis and Ginat alike, he became concerned for her reputation. 'With each suitor you turn away,' he warned her, 'you only increase the peril of begging your hand. For few men will risk their reputations for such odds as these.'

Nevertheless, she held fast to her state, not willing to have any other mate than he whom she loved. But as time wore on, the possibility of marriage seemed only to grow more distant. Dalta spoke of sending him to the utter north to guard the marches against goblins, or to giving him a position in the court of Ijjan himself.

In tears she came to him, and begged in all earnestness to take her away, that they might live together. 'Even if we should flee to Alwan, or to the south. There are many elves who have fled the north for the sake of love or for the sake of freedom.'

'But, my lady,' he said, smiling, and wiping the tears one by one from her cheeks. 'She who must have servants bear her bread baskets and water pitchers cannot hope to survive more than a week in the fearsome southern world.'

She looked ashamed. Thuruvis reacted immediately. 'Forgive me, my lady,' he said, kneeling on the ground. 'I spoke rashly.'

'But truly,' she said, disappointment in her face.

Thuruvis rose abruptly. 'No,' he insisted. 'I was being cruel. It is not so. You are the daughter of Ele and of Dalta, and you have within you blood more regal than any king of the south, and more noble than many kings of the north.' He paused there, thinking that perhaps he had said something careless concerning his masters. But her eyes revealed that she was not offended, but rather filled with adoration and, he thought, confidence. 'My lady could do anything she wished to do,' he continued. 'It is appropriate that I am a servant; for I am nothing. But you, daughter of heaven, your fate shall be something to behold!'

When it was newsed abroad that Lord Pelas would be sailing, and Lord Agonas with him, to pursue the phantoms of Ijjan's dark dreams, Dalia was filled with excitement. 'They shall want sailors,' she told her beloved. 'And my father cannot refuse to send you; if his master has need of you.'

Even as she had predicted, Lord Pelas soon sent word to his servants that any elf of Ilvas who would sail with him would be rewarded richly.

Lord Dalta himself, however, was commanded to remain in Centan. 'I would not have all our mighty men make this journey,' Agonas had told him. 'We do not want to look as if we are one people, moving in unison. In that way we will pass forgotten into history, lost like a drop of rain in the sea.'

The Wound

Thuruvis came before Lord Dalta with his head held high, and with his shoulders straightened.

Dalta noticed his posture at once. 'You are looking well, Thuruvis,' he said, in a polite but distant tone. 'What do you wish of your master?' he asked, sitting up in his chair.

'I am come to beg your leave to go to Evnai and to sail with your lord, Pelas and with his brother Agonas,' he answered, with a strength of voice none had ever heard from him before.

Dalia, who sat near her father, wrestled with a tiny wrinkle in her dress, and then looked at Thuruvis, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Dalta noticed her glance, though it lasted but an instant. And he looked knowingly upon Thuruvis.

'What would you do for the hand of Dalia my daughter?' he asked him, suddenly.

Thuruvis' confidence melted away in an instant, and he could scarcely bring himself to look upon Dalta, much less answer him. After a few moments had passed, he said, softly, 'Whatever is required of me, my lord.'

'You are given a good wage, am I correct?' Dalta said, confirming Thuruvis' wisdom in refusing the advances of Dalia in times past.

'I have no complaints, my lord - nay, I am grateful for all that your house has bestowed upon me.'

'My daughter is fated for the arms of a nobleman,' he said coldly. 'But do not despair,' he said with cruelty in his voice, 'for, though men are born noble and ignoble, there must be some who become noble during the course of their lives. Else, how could there be any nobility at all?'

Thuruvis said nothing.

'Lord Pelas has promised a great fortune to any elf of Ilvas that should accompany him. As a servant of Lohi, even as I once was, you are entitled to this opportunity.' He paused and then, with a cruel grin said, 'Return to me with tenfold what Pelas offers, and I shall still refuse you. My daughter is more precious to me than gold. I shall not part with her, therefore, unless you bring me gold such that it would, when placed upon a scale, lift her from the ground.'

Dalia rose from her seat in anger.

'Sit!' Dalta snapped at her, and he looked menacingly at Thuruvis.

Dalia obeyed, closing her lips and looking upon the scene with great angst.

'I will do it,' Thuruvis said, 'or I shall perish in the attempt.'

Dalta had hoped that by asking such an impossible task of him, he would provoke him to anger, and have some ground for refusing to let him travel to Evnai to serve Pelas. 'There is but one more thing I wish of thee,' he said.

'Name it, my lord,' Thuruvis said proudly. 'And I shall do it.'

'I shall not send anyone to my lord Pelas that I do not deem to be worthy with a blade.' He rose from his seat.

'Surely my lord has seen that I have skill with the blade,' Thuruvis reminded him.

'Perhaps,' Dalta drew his own blade. 'Come, let us see how skillful you are.'

Reluctantly, Thuruvis drew his sword and faced his master. At first he thought that Dalta would merely test his skill with the sword, and see whether or not he knew the proper forms of combat. This being on his mind, he was not overly concerned. He believed, for the first several blows, that his master tried his skill out of duty, and not because he had any reason to doubt his abilities. 'I have proved myself a hundred times over,' he thought to himself as he parried several attacks. But when he saw the ferocity in Dalta's face, and felt the force behind his strokes, he began to understand his opponent's intentions.

'He means to humiliate me,' Thuruvis thought. Dalta struck again at him, but Thuruvis turned his blade aside, and noticed that, had he swung his blade further, he could have disarmed his foe. The duel continued, Dalta trying to break down Thuruvis' defenses, while Thuruvis waited for him to make the same mistake once more.

An opportunity came, but Thuruvis hesitated. 'If I humiliate him, surely he will not give his daughter to me.' So the duel continued, Thuruvis hoping only that Dalta would tire of the fight and deem him worthy to sail with Lord Pelas. Dalta knocked aside his blade and cut him across the shoulder. He drew back and lowered his sword, thinking that Dalta would relent at the sight of blood. But Dalta took advantage of his carelessness and lunged forward, piercing Thuruvis in the shoulder. Thuruvis dropped his sword and fell to his knees. A stroke fell across his face, tearing open the skin on his cheek. Blood poured from his wound and dripped down his neck. He rose, lifting his sword and once again defending himself; this time fearing for his life. But as he continued to fight, now in great agony, he realized that he could win only by wounding his enemy. But to do so would sunder him from any hope of Dalia's hand. Dalta lunged at him wildly, and he caught Dalta's blade with his own, twisted it, but halted. He looked into Dalta's eyes to make sure that his master understood - he had the might and means to disarm him, to slay or to humiliate him. But instead, he dropped his own blade, as if Dalta's attack had done to him what he might have done.

His own forbearance seemed only to magnify Dalta's ire. The master of Centan hacked off three fingers from Thuruvis' left hand and then thrust his blade into his foot. Thuruvis fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his wounded hand.

'You are not worthy,' Dalta said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned and walked away.

Dalia stood there with her hands covering her face in horror.

Dalta passed her by without a word and vanished from the hall.

Some of the guards rushed forward and lifted the wounded elf from the ground, hurrying him to the apartment of the physician Onroa, who served the master of Centan.

Onroa's Apartment

When Thuruvis awoke, he found that he was in a soft bed with a down cushion under his head. His wounds were bound, but his body was in great anguish. He tried to move, but the increase in pain was more than he could bear.

'Do not push yourself,' a soft voice whispered.

'Where am I?' Thuruvis demanded.

'You are yet in the fortress of lord Dalta, howbeit, in a more amenable section thereof.'

'Who are you?' Thuruvis said, and then, remembering what had happened, he asked in a more urgent tone, 'How long have I been sleeping?'

'I am Onroa, the healer of Centan,' the voice replied. 'You are being well cared for.'

'How long have I slept?' Thuruvis demanded again.

Onroa sighed, 'It has been two days.'

Thuruvis again attempted to move, but Onroa's strong hands held him on his bed. Thuruvis cried out as both his own motions and the exertions of the healer sent waves of agony through his body. 'You will tear the stitches,' Onroa warned. 'You suffered some terrible wounds,' Onroa said disapprovingly. 'It is a cruel thing lord Dalta has done to you. I trust, of course, that of all people you will keep my judgment to yourself.'

Thuruvis hissed out a quick laugh. 'You needn't fear that I shall rush to tattle on you, master healer.' He had the voice of one who had no hope. 'What of the lady Dalele? Where is she?'

'She,' Onroa hesitated, 'has gone to see her father.'

'What do you mean, healer?' Thuruvis asked.

'She has tried now on three occasions to visit with you, but a guard is at the door. Dalta will not let her enter.'

This time Thuruvis actually managed to bear the pain as he rose from his bed and stood on his feet.

Onroa looked at him in amazement for a moment.

As he made to take a step his legs gave out and he fell with a cry into Onroa's arms. The pain overcame him and he knew no more until that evening, when he opened his eyes to the dim light of a flickering candle.

'What is going to happen?' Thuruvis said. 'What of Lord Pelas? When will he depart?'

'I know little of Lord Pelas and his plans,' Onroa answered. 'But I think he means to depart from Evnai in a month's time.'

'How long shall I take in healing,' Thuruvis asked, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. He knew already that it would far exceed the time remaining.

Onroa saw his anguish, and said in a quiet voice, 'You know already that you shall not be on that ship. It will take you many months to heal, and it will be perhaps more than a year before you can take up the sword again.'

Thuruvis struggled to swallow; his eyes teared, but he fought back his sorrow. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, his chest feeling as if it would burst open for its sadness. 'So it must be.'

The Word of Lord Dalta

'My father is a man of his word?' Dalia asked as she followed her father down a passage of the fortress.

'He is,' Dalta confirmed. He had taught Thuruvis a lesson, and spared the usurper's life, yet his daughter insisted upon bringing the unpleasant episode to mind again and again. He had warned her when last they spoke, however, never to speak of Thuruvis again. Now she pestered him with meaningless questions, it seemed, as if she might revenge herself upon him in this way.

'In my youth you said to me, "But ask, and ever I shall answer you."

'I did,' Dalta sighed. 'Sweet Dalele.'

'Then answer me now, father,' she continued, 'You said that you would not send any to lord Pelas that was unworthy with a blade.'

Dalta growled, knowing that she was still troubling him about Thuruvis. 'Yes, so I spoke.'

'But who then shall you send? For Lord Pelas desires strong and mighty warriors.'

'The worthy,' he said coldly, 'and not those who would sneak in through the back door untested, untried.'

'But those who prove themselves, you would send?' Dalia queried.

'Yes,' Dalta answered.

'Is this your final word, to which you will add no more? You will send those who prove themselves with the sword, and prove themselves in contest with you?'

'I will,' he said.

'And any who do so?'

'Any,' Dalta said, growing tired of her questions.

Dalia paused for a moment, and then rushed away from him, hurrying through the passages of the fortress.

It was not until he was assembled with his chief servants later in the evening that she returned to him, this time with a sword girt about her waist. She paused before the door and drew in a deep breath. She thrust open the door and approached her father boldly. She had much of her mother's grace and timidity, and for this reason the whole room fell silent - no man knowing what to make of this marvel.

'I will go to Pelas,' she said, drawing her blade and extending the point toward her father.

He grinned for a moment, thinking it was a jest, but when he saw the ferocity in her eyes his face became like a stone.

'How dare you put a blade toward me!' he said.

'I will go to Pelas,' she repeated.

Remembering her words he rose from his seat. Every eye was upon him as he walked toward his daughter. 'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded in a loud voice.

'I am here to be tested, to see if I am worthy to serve lord Pelas!'

'Nonsense!' Dalta laughed, 'You are a woman!'

'Indeed I am,' she said, 'You are as perceptive as you are honest, my lord.' She curtsied, still bearing the sword in one hand. The gesture was so comical that several of the servants of Dalta laughed. Dalia smiled wryly.

'You will not speak to me in this manner, Dalta said, his face red with anger. 'I shall decide who I send to my master.'

'And so you have; you have already made the decision - unless, you wish to change your words and speak now what you previously denied. You said you would send those who proved themselves against you with a blade. So I am here, test me now, lord Dalta!'

For a moment there was pain in his eyes, for he had never heard her speak his proper name. 'Thuruvis could not best me,' Dalta said. 'You are a fool if you think you, a woman, could do better, Dalele.'

Dalia raised her sword and spread her feet apart, preparing for a duel to which her father had not yet consented.

'This has naught to do with Thuruvis,' Dalia said with a cold voice.

'Is that, murder in her eyes?' Dalta thought within himself, but he said, 'I will prove you, daughter.' He stepped forward swiftly and slashed his sword at her blade. The force was so great that she nearly dropped her weapon. He put the blade to her throat. 'Now-' he began, but the sound of metal clashing with metal interrupted him. Dalia brought her own sword back against her father's blade, knocking it aside.

'I have already bested you,' he said with frustration.

'Hardly,' she said, and then she leapt forward, swinging with her full might toward his chest.

He cried out and leapt backward, realizing that she meant to strike him. Seeing the eyes of his servants he quickly regained control of the duel, parrying her every blow, and putting the blade first at her neck again, and also, another time, at her chest. But she would not relent, and merely laughed at his claim when he said, 'Again I have shown that I am the greater swordsman.'

'Nonsense,' she said, 'you cannot strike me.'

This was true, he thought to himself.

She battered against him relentlessly, until he realized that he would either have to contradict his own promise, slay his own daughter, or allow her to win. He could not retain the respect of his servants if he did the former, and he would die before he inflicted harm upon his own daughter. Finally he let his own blade fall to the ground with a clash. She put her sword to his neck.

'How is it, daughter,' he said, 'that when my blade threatens your life, you refuse to submit, but when it is your own blade, you expect me to do otherwise?'

'It is because your blade never threatened me, lord Dalta, however many times you point it at my neck. Yet mine,' and here she pressed the blade into his flesh, drawing blood from his neck and gasps of amazement from his servants, 'threatens your life in truth.'

'You are a woman, Dalele!' Dalta snarled, 'You cannot go to Lord Pelas!'

'You said 'Any',' Dalia retorted.

Seeing the eyes of his servants, Dalta relented. 'Very well,' he sighed, 'But Lord Pelas shall not permit you to sail, nor will your mother's kinsman, Amro the smith, allow you to put yourself in danger.'

'That, at least, is not your concern,' Dalia said. wiping the blood from her sword with a cloth. She turned and stormed from the room, rushing to the apartment of Onroa, where she, threatening the guard with her sword, gained entry.

'You cannot do this!' Thuruvis cried out in a hoarse voice when Dalia had told him her intentions.

'I must,' she replied, her eyes brimming with strength. 'It is the only way.'

'No, I would not have you come to harm - I would rather you forgot me and chose another.' He looked blankly at the wall, without emotion in his face.

I have not shadowed your movements all these years to have you abandon me for pride's sake. Nor have I rebelled against my own father so that you could sulk in bed.'

'I have died for you Dalele,' Thuruvis shouted. 'I have lost all; honor, hope, health! What more shall you take? Shall you take away my beloved, by losing her in the deeps of the sea?'

Dalia's eyes darkened, and she began to look afraid. 'I,' she began, 'I know it will not be easy. And Lord Pelas might forbid me; and Amro may prevent me - but what shall I do? I love you enough to kiss tragedy for your sake.'

'I have already kissed tragedy, and been wed thereto,' he said. 'For I know that I shall have no other partner.'

'Then you have changed,' she said with a toneless voice.

When he said nothing she continued, 'You once ridiculed me for asking you to bear what I could not bear. You said that I could do anything.'

When he saw her eyes, and the sadness therein, he sighed and lifted his hand to her cheek. 'I have not changed. Forgive me,' he said weakly. He breathed deeply and, remembering his old passion, said, 'Dalele, kin of mighty Amro, I believe that you can do what you have set out to do. I only wish that you did not need to, or that you did not love me so that you would not desire it. But that is but selfishness; for I wish not to lose you. If you love me, broken as I am, enough to risk death for my sake, then I ought to be grateful rather than fearful.'

'Send me with a kind word, then, my beloved,' she said to him. 'And it shall be a shield to me through whatever perils I encounter.'

'Return to me, my love,' he said to her.

[Chapter II:  
Parting At Inklas](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Thus she sailed south to Tel Arie,

Knowing not her fate it would be,

To mother the bold Queen thereof,

By a wicked man she'd never love.

Lord Palsen did she four times save,

When Folly lured him toward the grave,

By cunning mind and mighty arm,

She spared him from many a harm.

When dark Lapul was roused to fight,

Her great skill put their fleet to flight,

Back into their harbor to mourn,

Their faces white, their heads forlorn,

The sad end of Dalia's story we shall not consider here. It is described in sufficient detail in the history of the Welderan War, and would but sour our appreciation of what transpired first. The obsession men commonly have of happy endings is indicative of a lack of understanding concerning the nature of Time itself. As such, it is only they who have not given Time due consideration that require of every tale some enduring good, or some peaceful resolution.

For this cause the author of the Wars of Weldera ended with the success of the Galvahirna and the downfall of the spirits of Bel Albor, omitting from his account certain details that, ere his work was made public, were already conspiring against the heroes of his tale. I shall speak no more of the burning of Noras, or the revenge of the sons of Arakai, whose deeds made Weldera weep anew, as these events are infamous enough. Suffice it to say, it is not the results of a story, but the story itself that constitutes its meaning. Those who place such importance in the end of a story misunderstand Time, not realizing that it is every moment that is important, and not merely the moment that happens to appear last of all.

There are not a great many fairy tales that originate in Lapulia. There is the tale of the clever raven, which is as much a work of natural science as anything else, describing the raven's home and diet in great detail and precision, adding only a few lines of speech, and even then only with the words, 'If ravens could talk, then the raven might have said...' But one tale that has had some success in Lapulia, chiefly because it makes ridiculous the doctrines of the Dadrona, who for ages worshipped Lord Pelas, was known by the title, 'The Sacrifice of Palsen'.

The moral of the story is the simple truth that the one with whom you make a deal is at least as important as the deal itself. In the story, Palsen avoids the grave by swearing fealty to Lord Folly. Lord Folly demands three things of him, a pearl from the deepest sea, a cloud in a bottle and a pot full of silver earth. Through many humorous adventures Palsen acquires these things. But at the very end of the tale he is told, 'What did you think, poor Palsen, that I would keep my part of the bargain? He is a fool who deals with a fool. What is he, then, who deals with Lord Folly himself?'

Surely Lord Pelas dealt with Folly, for his first act was to rouse the city of Lapulia, which was older than Alwan, Ilvas and Sunlan alike. Though in the end the navy of Lapulia was driven back to their harbor in defeat, Lord Pelas lost nearly half of his fleet. And this at the very outset of his expedition.

From Sunlan

Ere his departure, Pelas made certain that his captains would be the most skilled and trustworthy sailors in Sunlan. The sons of Kolohi and Bralohi were all given command of their own vessels. Bralohi remained with Pelas upon his own warship, the Fatewind. His father, Lohi, also accompanied Lord Pelas, sailing at first as the ship's cook on his grandson Aebral's ship. Cheru, Oblis and Ginat, of course, accompanied Pelas, as no one would trust an entire vessel to their authority.

When Amro and Ghastin heard that Dalia was sailing in the stead of her beloved, they were filled with wrath. Were it not for the express command of Lord Pelas himself, they would have departed for Centan that very moment to squeeze from Dalta's throat an explanation for what they saw as nothing but the basest sort of cowardice.

'It is not cowardice,' Pelas countered. 'Dalta with great reluctance sends her, merely giving her permission, and not compulsion.'

'And will you allow a woman to board this ship? Or one of your other warships? Is she a fitting deckhand, or is the deck of a ship a fitting place for a lady? What of propriety?'

Pelas laughed. 'You believe less of your argument than I, Amro. For you care nothing for either tradition or etiquette. Nonetheless, in the ways of the sea, women have often proven their worth.' He paused there, amused by Ghastin's disdain and Amro's frustration. 'In the galley, for instance,' he bellowed, much to the amusement of Cheru, Ginat and Oblis, the latter of whom most certainly did not understand the joke.

Dalia arrived in Evnai on the First Day wearing leather sandals and a blue tunic. Around her waist was girt a slender belt of leather to which was affixed her own sword. It was not a warrior's blade by any account, but it was of dwarf-steel, forged for her by Amro himself. It was given to her as a gift and for her own defense, not for waging a war with monsters of the sea. Nonetheless, it was regal looking, and drew the attention of the other sailors as readily as her long dark hair and her noble face. The elves, especially the elves of Sunlan, laughed amongst themselves when they saw her, but the Knariss sailors seemed to hold her in awe.

Amro and Ghastin demanded that Dalia sail with them upon Falruvis' ship, the Dadiiron.

Sol, as he had proven himself to be a competent commander, was given command over more than eighty vessels, most of which were captained by sailors of the Knariss. Two of the ships under his command, however, were captained by his own sons, Primsol and Duesol, who, like their father, were capable seamen.

Pelas commanded two-hundred ships, most of which were captained either by his own servants or by elves of Sunlan. The remaining twenty warships were commanded by Rudjan, the seventh son of Ijjan, who had volunteered to sail with Agonas into the southern world.

The ships were equipped with wine and water, fruit and salted meat and a hundred other such things. They brought wool cloths and blankets enough for every sailor; for their journey was expected to be a long one, and they knew not when or where they might acquire such things in the due season. Along with their food and drink, they brought a great many weapons. Each man carried upon his person whatever weapon they preferred. In addition to this, however, each ship was given a stock of swords, axes and spears so that no man would ever want for a blade. In addition to the small arms, each ship was equipped with ballistas and harpoons, such as the navy of Sunlan was wont to use in its battles with pirates.

The fleet sailed for seven days with a warm westerly wind tugging them gently toward the southwest. All the excitement and anticipation for the journey soon evaporated as the warriors found themselves passing their days in idleness, gambling, drinking and sleeping under the sun.

Falruvis had become an able captain, having assisted Pelas in the policing of Evnai and the northeastern coasts of Sunlan. His crew was made up almost entirely of Knariss sailors, the chief of whom was called Alsley. To him Falruvis gave the responsibility of teaching Dalia the ways of the ship. Falruvis did not think it seemly for a woman to be on board a warship, but he had grown prudent enough to understand that, given that they sailed into danger, it would be wise to have every soul on the ship made capable of sailing. 'One simply does not know the future,' he said to himself as he called Alsley to his cabin.

The room was small; Falruvis preferred maneuverability over strength, and he therefore sailed on a smaller vessel than most of the other elves. His cabin was built in proportion to his warship, and it barely fit his bed, a table, a shelf and a chest full of his arms and his clothing. It was, of course, much nicer than the bunks upon which the seamen slept.

'My lord?' Alsley said with a slight bow.

'Find the woman,' Falruvis ordered with some hesitance. 'Teach her how to sail.'

Falruvis sat at his table with a roughly drawn map tacked onto the wood. A lantern swayed gently and rhythmically above him, sending delicate shadows tottering about the room.

'Yes, my lord,' Alsley said, preparing to obey without delay.

'Oh,' Falruvis added, smiling slightly, his silver hair tied behind his head by a chord. 'First teach her the meaning of work - for I dare say Dalta has spoiled her.'

'Of course,' Alsley said with a grin. 'She is a fine woman, though, so I suppose we needn't blame him overmuch.'

Falruvis nodded, but said soberly, 'Do not be deceived, friend,' and it was only to Alsley that he ever spoke so freely. 'She is no child - she is older than you, and more lettered. We elves, when we are at peace, can grow so gentle that we almost forget how to lift our own arms, let alone a heavy burden. A limited life,' he mused, 'is a gift after a manner of speaking.'

'If my lord says so, then it is so,' Alsley smiled.

'I should leave you to judge that for yourself, I suppose,' Falruvis laughed. 'Nonetheless, remember that for all her beauty, she is no child, and what she must learn she must learn quickly, and learn properly. We have no time to coddle her, and we dare not teach her incompletely. Teach her to labor, and then she will soon surpass your most experienced sailors in skill, though perhaps not in strength of arm.'

Dalia spent the first ten days of the journey scrubbing the galley clean after the last meals were cooked and the first ten evenings mopping the decks by the light of the fading sun. She did not complain, regardless of how she was treated or ridiculed. Alsley mocked her at first, and treated her rather unkindly, but as he watched her patiently endure whatever task she was given, his heart softened and he treated her no different from the other sailors. Also, the fierce glances he received from Ghastin made him reconsider just how hard he ought to make her work.

'That one has a dark heart,' Alsley said to Falruvis in the privacy of his cabin.

'Indeed,' Falruvis answered. 'Ever has he been this way. He was but a child when he was brought to Ilvas, and I do not think he has ever come to bear any good sentiments toward his companions. Amro is his brother, and Ele is their cousin - or so I am told.'

'Ele?' Alsley asked, never having heard the name mentioned before.

'Yes,' Falruvis nodded, realizing that the Knariss had not the knowledge of the high elf families that the elves themselves possessed. 'She is the bride of lord Dalta of Centan, and the mother of Dalele.'

Inklas

When two weeks had passed Alsley began teaching Dalia how to sail. By that time, however, land had been sighted, and preparations were being made to bring the ships into port. There was a city of men on the northern coast of Olgrost in those days called Inklas, and they meant to replenish their water and food stores before sailing around the coast of Olgrost. It was also Pelas' intention to learn what the people of that city had to say concerning the Monsters they sought.

Falruvis initially intended to have Dalia remain aboard. 'Not everyone will be going ashore; the people of the city would receive such a multitude as an invasion - and it would truly be an invasion. Let her not think so much of herself that she would expect to be among those important enough to go to land.'

But Amro, having heard of this, came to him and said, fiercely, 'Would you leave a lamb among wolves?' His strong arms were crossed in front of his chest and his head was tilted to one side as if he was studying Falruvis in the way a disappointed artisan inspects his defective work.

Falruvis nearly stuttered, but managed to say clearly, 'If you think the crew of this ship to be so brutish, I have no objection to her going ashore. But she shall be your concern in the city. And she shall not be brought into council. There are many men who have more right to go ashore than she, and more right to be counted among our leaders.' When Amro's brow furrowed, he added, 'In time. In time she shall take the place that Fate prepares for all the elves of Ilvas. But we must be patient in the meanwhile.'

Amro seemed to be satisfied with this, and, when the boats were lowered, he helped Dalia into the ship.

Ghastin had agreed to remain on board in her place, so as to lessen the frustration of the sailors at seeing the inexperienced daughter of lord Dalta go where they could not. 'Many of you have seen Inklas already,' Ghastin said defensively. 'Fight bravely, and wisely, and perhaps you shall see it again.'

'Fight?' one sailor laughed. 'You mean even you think these Beasts are real? The Beasts of Ijjan?'

Ghastin shook his head, looking south at the port as the setting sun painted both ocean and land vermillion. 'How can Lord Ijjan hope to rid himself of Ilvas if they are not, in some sense, real?'

The sailor shrugged and went back to his work.

'Fear not,' Ghastin added as he departed, 'there are monsters enough on both land and sea to claim all our lives!'

The sailor laughed. 'But what of the air?'

'If there is a Beast of the air,' Ghastin said, looking at the stars as they appeared, free at last from the sun's dominance. If there is a Beast of the air, then the gods alone can do aught about it.'

The sun vanished almost at the same moment Dalia's boat reached the wharf. Five strong men, smelling strongly of rum and ale, reached down from the wooden boards above her. Amro gave her into their hands. They smiled as the first man lifted her slender body from the boat and handed her to another.

Amro came next, and when they saw the strength of his arms they forsook all thoughts of amusement, and began to treat Dalia like a queen.

'I should thank you,' she said weakly to Amro.

He grunted and took her arm, leading her across the dark wharf toward the shore. A lantern hung from a post was the only light they could see. In darkness they made their way up toward the city. 'They did not permit us to enter through the main port,' Amro explained. 'The elders of the city are not enemies of Sunlan, but they have long feared that the strength of the elves would flow out of the north and sweep away the lands of the mortals. Inklas, of course, would be the first city to fall.'

'Shall the elves some day come to Tel Arie?' Dalia asked.

'You ask me of the future, Dalele,' he laughed softly. 'When I dwelt in Sunlan as a youth, I might have told you the future. And how wrong I would have been cannot be expressed but with laughter. I know better now, not how to divine what is to come, but how to be silent.'

She took this to mean that he did not wish to speak any more. But the silence seemed to make him uncomfortable.

'I have kept aloof from you, Dalele,' he said, 'because my heart is torn between fealty and family. I am bound by Fate herself to Pelas, whatsoever his own fate may be. I am fearful that there will come a day when my duties will become unbearable, and I will be an enemy to kin and an ally of darkness. But what must be, must be.' He laughed, realizing that he was not comforting but rather confusing her. 'Is it true, Dalele,' he asked after a pause, and as they were met by an elderly woman with a lantern who silently beckoned them to follow her.

Falruvis was about two dozen steps behind them, speaking in a hushed voice with Alsley and one of Bralohi's sons.

'Is it true,' Amro asked, 'that Dalta did not compel you to come in his stead? The men of Ilvas have always had a madman's marriage to courage, sometimes loving and sometimes hating bravery and honor.'

'Fear not, uncle,' Dalia answered with a small smile. 'there is no need for your duties filial and regal to enter mortal conflict one with the other. Dalta did not make me come; this is no Doom Path!'

'You are certain?' he asked.

'I am certain,' she said confidently. 'It was I who compelled him to give me leave.'

'But why?' Amro said, more troubled by the thought that she had chosen to come on this perilous adventure than by the thought that Dalta had hidden from danger by sending his daughter in his place.'

Dalia fell silent and looked away, realizing that she had spoken too much already. For she did not wish to dishonor her love, by revealing to others that it was in his place that she had chosen to come.

She was spared any need to further explain herself by the arrival of a large party of armed men. Four of them bore long wooden lances and the rest were armed with longswords. 'I am Olghon,' one of them said, 'I shall take you to the elders of Inklas.' And so he did, leading them along dirty stone paths toward the city.

Dalia was immediately struck by the strange fact that this city of mortals appeared in every way to be older, rather than younger than many of the cities of the elves. The houses were built imperfectly, and settled at odd angles, unnoticeable to mortal eyes, but to eyes that had seen the halls of Ijjan, built during an age of peace and art, every deviation from perfection was noticeable.

They soon came to the top of a hill from whence they could look out over the whole city. Centan, which was built around the Midthalon River, was carefully planned down to the very brick, so that everywhere one looked they would see order and wisdom. But here houses seemed to trample over one another, some towering over their neighbors while others seemed to be built into the houses surrounding them. She had seen such houses among the mortals of Sunlan, for she had been in the north and she had even known something of the people of Ilvas. But she had never seen a city such that each generation makes its own impression upon the city and bears its own peculiar manner of building - and then passes away rather than perfecting its art.

When at last they came to the Council House, where the elders of the city awaited them, Dalia was surprised to see an elf come running up toward them, panting. It was Lord Pelas.

Agonas followed soon after, hastily but not in a panic as his brother seemed to be.

'What is the meaning of this, Steelsmith?' Pelas demanded with frustration. But before Amro could answer Pelas seemed to come to his senses. 'Forget it,' he breathed in and stood up tall. 'I shall greet the elders myself.' He entered the Council House with Agonas following soon after. Amro stepped aside until all the high elves had passed him, entering only after Rudjan's shadow had vanished into the doorway.

'My lady,' he said with a bow.

Dalia lifted her chin in jest and walked into the house, honestly fearing that the woodwork would give way and fall down atop their heads.

'Do not worry,' Amro said, seeing her fearful demeanor. 'Beauty adds nothing to strength, however desirable it might be on its own.' Dalia took his words to heart; and it became something of a motto among her descendants, when Marin Quendom ascended to rule over the mortals of the very land to which she now came as a guest.

Myths and Legends

The elders of Inklas were men such as Dalia had never imagined could exist. Some of them were young men, strong and lively. But the greater part of them had gray hair, not like the silver hair of the Light elves which was not silver for its age, but by nature. These men were sailors, and their leathery skin looked like the bark of a tree to her eyes.

The Master of the city rose from his seat and welcomed the elves, pointing to a number of empty chairs that were piled in one corner of the Council House. There was a long thin table across the eastern wall behind which sat the elders all in a row. As the elves filed in and took seats, servants appeared from another room bearing jars of wine and bowls of stew on large wooden trays. The food was not what one might receive in the cities of Sunlan, but it was better fare than they had enjoyed while sailing across the empty expanse of the northern sea.

The Master of the city again rose and this time he blessed the food, calling upon the blessing of Envelna, the goddess of the harvest. Amro nodded at the mention of her name, as if he understood something the others had overlooked. Dalia gave him a glance, which he answered by whispering the name, 'Evnai.'

The Master, when he had finished blessing their gathering, sat down again. In his wrinkled left hand he held a small rod of iron. 'It is our custom,' he said softly, directing his words toward Pelas, 'to give to the speaker this scepter. He who bears it not may speak only to request it. I am Ternan. I have fished in these waters from the time of my youth until a decade ago, when my bones became too weak at last to be of use upon the water. Now I make use of another strength - the strength of experience. My own experience, of course, is as nothing before the ancient wisdom of the elves. But nonetheless we must do as we are able.'

The elves nodded, paying close attention to what he said. When he saw that they were attending to his words, he held the scepter in the air. 'Long have we expected to be visited by the people of Sunhost. And long have we prayed to Envelna that when they came it would be for our good and not for our destruction. Behold, a fleet of warships comes to our port - reassure an old man, I beg of you, that you have not come to take what we have, for these four-hundred years now, striven to build.'

'Pelas rose from his seat and walked to the table of the elders. He received the scepter from Ternan's nervous hand and turned so that he could be heard as well by his own servants as by the people of Inklas. The air grew silent as his voice echoed through the meeting hall.

'Men of Inklas,' he began, 'fear not. We come not to trouble your city in any regard, nor to lay claim to the land you till or the seas you fish. Do not think, therefore, that our coming is a coming in peace. Nay, we come for war - even our mightiest elves and servants. We have come to seek a legend and a myth, and to make war against the devil of the sea, and the prowler of the earth - the beasts who rule over the elements.'

Pelas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the terror in the eyes of the elders. One man quickly excused himself and darted out the back of the room. 'Then they know something of these creatures,' Agonas thought to himself. 'Still, brother, you might have queried them without risking humiliation...'

He quickly returned the scepter to Ternan, whose hands shook as he received it. He passed it immediately to the left where it passed from hand to hand all the way to the very last seat. There sat a wicked looking sailor with a messy red beard. Pelas had never seen hair of that hue before, and let out a silent gasp at the sight of it.

The sailor rose to his feet. He wore a dark wool coat with silver buttons and a golden pin was clasped to his breast. The left arm of his coat hung limp at his side; it was not until he began to struggle with the pin on his breast with only his right arm for assistance that Dalia realized his other limb was missing. She gasped at the sight, never having seen such a thing in Sunlan. Amro quickly hushed her.

He removed the pin and cast it down the table toward the Master Ternan. It slid and rolled across the wood coming to a halt just below Pelas' nose. Looking at the pin he found that it was a crudely wrought broach formed into a serpent.

'Is this the Beast of the sea?' Pelas asked, looking the man in the eyes.

'Nay,' the man shivered. Somehow the fear he displayed in his voice didn't seem to render him a coward in the eyes of the elves. It seemed to them, as they watched him describe the beast, that to be able to speak of the monster without shedding a river of tears and without going mad at the sound of your own voice was a sort of courage rarely to be found in the world. 'It is not a Beast. It is all beasts - it is greater and wiser than the Aguians, more fierce than the sharks, larger than the whales, more armored than a turtle and larger than a school of fish. Every nightmare of the sea is born from him, and to see him is to see death. If you mean to slay him, then you truly must deem yourselves to be gods, even as it is reported of the lords of Sunhost.'

Pelas overlooked this last insult, fixing his eyes upon the man's missing arm. 'Where can it be found?'

'Where can it not be found?' the man laughed.

'What is your name?' Pelas demanded.

'Marnos,' the man curtly replied.

'Hear me now, for I shall only speak so plainly to you this once.'

Marnos nodded grimly.

'I am Lord Pelas Parganascon, son of he who slew the gods of Vitiai. I am lord of Ilvas and keeper of the waters of Sunlan, from whence rules your goddess Envelna. I do not set myself to any task so that a mortal can gainsay it. Fear this beast if you will - I fear it as well. But I shall kill it, and it shall trouble men no longer. Laugh if you must; curse if you must, but you cannot change what Fate has decreed.'

Marnos seemed to accept, then, that his words would not dissuade these people from their foolish quest. 'I see,' he answered. After a pause and a sigh he said, 'The Serpent cannot be found; yet it has no trouble finding men. It is the lord of pride, however, and accepts no rivals. This fleet of warships might, if any such gathering of wood, blood and clay can, perchance lure his fell body from the depths. Howbeit, the Serpent does not approach the land - that is the dominion of the Beast of Earth, and it has been prophesied that only the Beast can slay the Serpent and only the Serpent can slay the Beast.

'Go into deep waters; waters where no bottom can be discovered, and where the black abyss of Abbon Don stares into your soul - and there wait for his wrath. May Envelna save your souls from the pit; for she shall not save your flesh - the Serpent is lord over the waters.'

It was soon clear to the elders that the elves and their warships were truly in their waters for the sake of this fateful hunt, and not as conquerors or spies. This livened the mood a bit, and more wine was served along with better food. Tales were exchanged, songs were sung, and discussions of the most important matters were set aside for a while. The prospect of supplying the food and water for so many vessels put the Master of Inklas in a cheery mood. Inklas did well in its commerce with the other cities in Tel Arie, but the coming of the elves of Sunlan would provide them with a great deal of gold. 'And more if we return successful,' Pelas promised carelessly. At this the men cheered, though none of them believed that he would return in such a manner. 'He may come back broken, humbled and weary of the fruitless chase,' Ternan thought, 'but he shall not return having slain the Serpent.'

The Decision

The elves and their servants were provided with comfortable apartments for the next three days as they made preparations for their journey. Their beds were soft and warm compared to those which they had aboard their ships. In the morning they ate a good breakfast of eggs and slender strips of steak. There was also an abundance of bread, toasted and with a dark yellow cheese melted atop it.

In the evening they met with several of the elders of Inklas, including the old sailor Marnos. They were brought to the Northsea Inn and served a dinner of fish stew and biscuits.

Agonas, however, spent his day at the docks of the city, questioning the sailors about the lands south of Inklas.

Ere their ships could be outfitted, Pelas and Agonas were faced with an important decision. Marnos, who had been ordered to help them in any way he was able, insisted that the safest route to water such as he described would be to the east. 'If you sail around Olgrost to the Vestron lands, staying clear of the eastern coast of course, you will by and by come to deeper waters.'

'Why must we avoid the western coast?' Falruvis asked him.

'They say there was a mountain that reached to the very heavens, Marnos answered. 'But the people who dwelt there shook their fists at the gods and prepared to make war against the stars. In retribution, the gods sundered the mountains and cast its remains into the sea. Now there is naught but spires and jagged spikes jutting from the waters. There are no men, either of this or any other land, who know how to navigate those perilous waters. Sail out to the east for at least a hundred leagues from the coast before you turn toward the south.'

'And this Serpent,' Falruvis continued his questions, 'it will not come to us in the north?'

'It may,' Marnos answered, 'It may. But it prefers warmer waters.' He looked slightly nervous as he continued. 'The Serpent does not fear elves any more than men; and men have sailed these waters for longer. He will not go to the north to find you.'

'But if we were men, you say he would come to us?' Falruvis asked curiously.

'Perhaps,' Marnos replied. Then he chuckled, 'Listen to you! You speak as though his actions must be as predictable as a man's deeds!'

'Are man's deeds so predictable?' Pelas asked, smiling slightly.

'You tell me, master elf,' Marnos said politely. 'When next you stand at the bow of your ship, looking into the rushing waves. Next time you see how easily you might leap therein and perish. Next time you are but a moment separated from death, think on this: How could you ever trust any man, least of all yourself, to stand in such a perilous state, separated from death by naught but your own will, if it were not so that his actions were predictable, and predictable to such an extent that you will stand teetering on the very edge of death without fear or sweat - for you know that for all its possibility, you will never leap.'

'But a man may fear an accident,' Dalia chimed in, surprised at herself for speaking. Every eye turned to her, for of all the elf-maids in Sunlan, her voice was the most lovely. Her face turned red and she looked down at the table, hoping to vanish into her wooden chair.

'Indeed, my lady' Marnos answered kindly, the roughness of his demeanor seeming to fade as he looked upon her. 'But it is the accident he fears, not his own person, which follows certain laws, even as the rest of nature.'

'You have spoken of the east as the safer route,' Aebral interrupted, returning the conversation to the the point, 'but as yet you have not explained your reasons. There must be some ground for your judgment.'

'To the west, and south around the land of Dominas, you will come to Lapulia.'

'Yes?' Pelas said, obviously in frustration. 'And what of Lapulia? What else is there to fear in those waters?'

At his question all motion in the Inn seemed to stop. There were a few incredulous chuckles, quickly silenced by Marnos' ferocious glance. 'My apologies,' Marnos quickly said, hoping to draw the elf-lord's attention back to himself and away from those who had mocked him.

'Tell me about Lapulia,' Pelas said sharply, and then, speaking so all could hear, he said, 'and then I shall tell you of the halls of Ijjan in Sunlan, which gleam like the sun. Or perhaps I shall tell you of King Parganas in the west, who sits in a palace wrought with stones from God's own mountain. Or perhaps I shall tell you of the Utter North, where the Dragon once dwelt. Mock me for knowing little of your lands, and I shall mock you a hundred times for your ignorance. For even as your knowledge is less than mine, so also are your wonders.'

There was some movement from some parts of the inn, as men rose from their seats, left through the door, and otherwise reacted to his words. For a moment Dalia was afraid that a fight would break out. In such a conflict the elves would doubtless prove the victors; but then they would have to reach their ships ere the city guard could detain them. They were mighty warriors all, but they could not slay a whole city by themselves.

'Calm yourselves,' Marnos said, addressing the rest of the inn. Then, turning toward Lord Pelas with a penitent face, he said, 'I beg your forgiveness, my lord. If we were able we would host you in the Council House. But we have not the means therein to house and feed lords such as yourself. Please do not let the foolishness of these men reflect badly upon our city. We are a thick-headed folk.'

'All is forgiven, Marnos, elder of Inklas,' Pelas said politely, relaxing in his seat again. 'All shall be forgotten.' And he looked so at ease that Marnos truly believed him. In truth, Marnos' talk about men and their motives had deeply affected him. For he took it in confirmation of that Fate which he believed ever guided him. 'I cannot err,' he thought to himself, 'For I know what I have willed, and my will is the will that moves the world itself.'

'Nonetheless,' Marnos said meekly, with a voice that was almost too gentle for a sailor, 'Lapulia is no trifle. It is an ancient place, where magic of all sorts is practiced. It is a dark city, and a perilous sea surrounds it - perilous not for its waters, but for its masters. The Lapulians do not take kindly to intrusion; nor will they permit a fleet such as yours to dock in their harbors. Even if they left you to pass untroubled through their seas, you would not reach open waters ere your supplies ran out. For the cities of the coast are loyal to them, and would not help you if their masters in the Magic Tower gave them not leave.'

'Is there no reasoning with the people of this city?' Pelas asked. 'And what shall they do to us, and our mighty fleet. All the might of Sunlan is against them; what have they?'

'They have the Magi,' Marnos answered curtly.

From Marnos and from others the elves could learn very little of consequence concerning Lapulia. Or, properly speaking, they could receive very little. It is not as though the men of Inklas did not give them sound council or adequate warning. But there was little talk in the way of magic in the North, so they could only think of the witches of the Lupith, the star watchers of the Knariss and the prophets of the Essenes. The elves did not dabble in such trickery, however, and held in contempt those who believed in such powers. 'They do not know who we are,' Pelas said, condescendingly, when at last the elves were left to themselves in the empty inn. The keeper had turned in and, despite his reluctance, permitted the guests of Master Ternan to remain until they should see fit to leave. By the light of a single lantern they held council. 'If they understood us, they would not fear for us, but rather for these wizards of Lapulia.'

'Still,' Amro suggested, 'they have more experience in these waters. We ought not forget that.'

Pelas looked at him with anger, 'And you think that I, who have led the high elves from Thedul to Evnai, and increased them in might and number a hundred times over, have neglected to consult with common sense. It is common sense to believe the words of the wise,' he said, in a calmer tone, 'But it is also common sense to receive the words of the superstitious with care. For the words of careless thinkers are as perilous as they are prone to falsity.'

Amro nodded, and said nothing more that evening.

'We should sue for peace with the Lapulians,' Falruvis said, as if he spoke for Lord Pelas, 'and if they will not receive us, then they will ever regret setting themselves against our will.'

Pelas nodded approvingly, adding, 'If they fight against us, then we shall not only destroy them at sea, but we will, with our mighty men of arms, wound their very city. And then men will not hide at the mention of THEIR name!'

The elves were in agreement with him, save for Agonas, who had arrived only after Marnos and the other elders of Inklas had already left. He said, 'If I were alone the judge, I would avoid Lapulia; the sailors of Inklas know the ways of the eastern sea, and how to sail therein. But they know nothing of Lapulia - and if they know something, then it is as they have said: The city is a great peril to us. I would rather sail during the day in dangerous seas than blind in waters I know nothing about. I trust my judgment in adversity greater than my instinct in the unknown.'

'You have command of a ship, brother,' Pelas laughed. 'Sail east, then, and we shall see who finds the Serpent first.'

'I do not think that I shall seek the Serpent,' Agonas answered.

At this all movement ceased and the whole room fell silent. Every eye turned to him. He laughed.

'You know, brother, that I have no great love for the sea. There is another beast to find, and I will seek it elsewhere. The men of Inklas spake of Kharku in the south, whence the dwarves live. There are many mighty beasts in that land, some they say are as large as a warship. I will sail there myself and make an end of that legend, even as you will make an end to the beast of the Sea.'

'It is fitting,' Pelas said, accepting this turn as the prompting of Fate. But in his own heart he felt a surge of anger and jealousy. 'Does he wish,' Pelas thought fearfully, 'to rob me of glory?' It did not occur to him that his brother, being his equal, might say the same of him for assuming command over the whole fleet of Sunlan. But Pelas could not order or compel Agonas to do anything. Therefore he said, 'Then go with my blessing to Kharku, and we shall share our tales in Sunlan when our deeds are done!'

Thus the brothers parted for a time; and this was the last time that they parted from one another as friends. When morning came and Agonas departed into the rising sun, Pelas felt an ache in his heart - the last longing he ever felt for his brother's company.
[Chapter III:  
Against Lapulia](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Magic Tower

It was nearly a month before the fleet came within sight of the Magic Tower of Lapulia. They had resupplied their ships once again in Kulneth, which, before the Catastrophy, was some twenty leagues west of Dalta City - which was not a port city at all in those days, nor was it named, as it is in our day, for the father of Dalia who was, in more recent antiquity, its conqueror. The men of Kulneth knew even less of the elves than the men of Inklas, and feared them more. However so much they were affected by the sight of the Immortals, nothing could shake them from their steadfast insistence that it would be folly to sail with such a force into the waters of Lapulia.

Nonetheless, they willingly sold them whatever the needed for the voyage.

The seas were calm and the skies were clear when they began their approach. Looking into the south they could see the great rocks which served as walls for the city. But the first sign of habitation they beheld was the Magic Tower itself. It first appeared over the rocks as a tiny spire, rising into the sky. One might have thought it to be a twig for its girth. But as they drew nearer, and as their perceptions began to make sense of what they saw, they realized that it was not slender at all, but rather still a long way off. The tower was so unbelievably tall that it compelled an eye not accustomed to such marvels to judge it to be close and slender, rather than high and thick.

With the exception of the very mountains of the earth, it was and is the highest thing upon the face of the world. From ten thousand furnaces and and from a hundred thousand chimneys there rose the smoke of Lapulia, which men say makes the lives of its people short and sickly. But a longer life they would not choose, even were they able, for the power of the Magi was with them, and they had and have nothing to fear from any race of men or elves.

The skies that had been calm faded to gray, and the seas grew rough with the rising of the wind, which blew hot from the south now, slowing their approach. Dalia stood with Amro upon the deck of the ship, looking out with open jaw at the city of Magic. A great beam of light struck the ship from atop the tower, blinding them both for a moment before it moved to the next ship. Pelas saw it coming and shielded his eye ere it could hurt his eyes. But little else could he do to defend his fleet from the gaze of Lapulia's Tower. One by one the light moved, slowly and deliberately looking upon each and every vessel. A long wailing sound rose from the city and bright lights flared up around the rocky land. The whole city was awake, and prepared for their coming.

Captain Proud

'Go away!' the old man shouted, as the pounding continued.

'Captain Proud, sir,' a nervous voice moaned, 'You are summoned to the Tower.'

'What did you say!?' Proud said, leaping from his bed and rushing from his chamber. He unlocked the latch, turned the knob and opened the door just wide to see his visitor's eyes through the crack.

'I said that you are summoned to the Tower.'

'No,' Captain Proud moaned, backing away from the door. 'What do they want with me?'

'You are to report to the docks, I am told, sir,' the voice replied.

'To the docks?' the Captain said, nervously. 'You mean, they have summoned me to the docks?'

'Yes, sir, that is correct.'

'Fool!' Captain Proud hollered, quickly opening the door so that he could berate the messenger more efficiently. 'Don't you know that to be summoned TO the Tower can only mean one of two things: Death, or a Pupilship? And I am far too old for the latter!'

The messenger turned white and looked for a moment as though he would faint. His distress was interrupted by Captain Proud's booming voice. 'What is your name, child?' he demanded in a demeaning tone.

'Careful,' the younger man replied.

'Careful indeed!' the captain laughed. 'Were your parents intoxicated at your announcement?'

'I cannot say,' Careful replied humbly. 'I am sorry, sir, I meant not to frighten you.'

'Think nothing of it, child,' Captain Proud said as he began to gather his clothing together. He pulled up a pair of trousers over his nightshirt, which he subsequently pulled over his head and cast onto the floor. His apartment was not overly large, but it was much more spacious than the barracks in which the sailors were housed. There was a small table in the room, which served as both kitchen and dining hall. He threw his sleeping clothes in a heap upon the table. As he kicked his slippers from his feet he upset a small basked of fruit that was laid upon the center of the table, sending apples and grapes rolling across the floor. In an instant his wife was at the door, holding her nightgown close to her.

'What is the meaning of this?' she demanded of him.

'It is nothing,' Captain Proud said sharply. 'Get back to bed!'

'You are sweating, and you have your boots mixed up,' she grumbled softly.

'Curses!' he said, shoving the young man from his house and bolting the door. 'I have to go to the docks; can't you hear the alarm?'

She listened for a moment and then nodded, saying, 'But you are not on duty! It sounds for other men.'

Proud shook his head and growled, 'Yet there is a messenger at the door from the Tower.' He corrected his boots and buckled his pants, tucking a bright white shirt into his belt. He threw a deep blue coat over his shoulders and hung a sword across his back. 'Now where is my Firesling?' He began to rummage around, digging through his pile of clothing.

'It is on the wall,' his wife pointed.

There, hanging beneath an old spear, was a small weapon such as only the Lapulians possess. The weapon itself was a small polished tube about twice the girth of a man's fingers. There was a smoke-stained wooden handle at the end and a lever at the top, which could be pulled back and released. In that age, it was only the commanders of the military who were permitted to bear such armaments. He carefully removed the weapon from the wall and hung it at his right side. He also took a small leather sack full of tiny iron balls and a small leather-wrapped ceramic jar filled with Fire-powder. He looked once more at his wife and nodded, leaving her alone in the dark apartment.

'My apologies, sir,' Careful said as he followed hard upon his commander's heels. Both men marched at a strict pace. 'I did not know that you were asleep; it is not yet fully dark, and the alarm has been sounding now for half an hour.'

'When you reach my age, child,' Proud began, 'and when you have worked as hard as I have these past twenty years, then you will understand why one might decide, during his leave, to turn in early.'

'Understood, sir,' Careful said.

When they reached the docks Proud found his crew waiting for him on the deck of his warship. His coming was announced when he stepped aboard, 'Hail Captain Proud! Servant of the Magi!'

He answered this greeting by saying, as was customary, 'Hail, servants of the Magi.'

As soon as he had spoken his men scattered, each hurrying to his post. The ship began to move away from the docks. Just then, the captain noticed a strange figure wearing a dark cloak and hood. 'What is the meaning of this?' he said irritably. 'Why is HE here?'

'Careful,' said Careful.

Captain Proud looked at him for a moment. 'You are telling me to be careful?' He laughed and looked at the sky. 'There are no gods!' he cried out. 'And this man here is proof of it!'

'I am sorry, sir,' Careful said, 'It is just that, well, they say you should never offend one of...' he cut off, not wanting to say the name.

'And you think I have lived long enough for my hair to gray and thin without knowing this? Do you really think they would give a man such as I command of a warship if we did not understand the order of things? And who rules over who?'

'Forgive me, sir,' Careful replied.

Captain Proud walked away from him, marching over to the cloaked figure with murder in his eyes, but with military control in his step, sway and posture. 'Hail, Master,' he said politely, though falsely. Proud had never met a man who liked these dark lords of the Magic Tower.

'I am Thann of the Black Adder,' the man said coldly. 'There is a great host of warships sailing into our waters. The sailors are not all of them human, from what we can discern.'

'What do you mean? They cannot be dwarves. From whence do they sail?'

'They call themselves elves; they are immortals from the north,' Thann said.

'Elves?' the captain said with great surprise. 'What are you talking about?'

With something akin to patience, the Adder replied:

'We are not blind in any land, Captain Proud,' he began, 'We have been expecting such an invasion for many years now. But we could not discern the hour or day of its arrival. Nonetheless, it is here. The lands of the Far North are inhabited by the Elves; Immortals who rule and reign over several rich kingdoms. They are mighty in battle, wise and swift - they will not fall easy. But they must fall. It has been foretold by the servants of the Tower, that these men will conquer us, if we do not sink them into the depths or drive them back into the north.

Captain Proud interrupted him, waving his arms as he spoke, 'This is all nonsense! Foretold? Are we mystics now? That we listen to prophecies?'

Finally Thann sighed, the first sign that he, like the frustrated Captain, was a mere man. Proud calmed himself slightly when he saw this sign of human frailty in the otherwise sinister looking Mage.

The Black Adder were effectively the lords and masters of Lapulia. Their chief and master was the High Mage, who was also known simply as the Magi. No man ever knew who he was, unless, upon his death, it was deemed useful to reveal his identity. This was sometimes done to give honor to certain important families, whose loyalty would prove useful to the Tower. Other times the identity of the Mage was concealed. It puts me at no small peril to write this, but this very thing has been done no less than twenty times simply to hide the fact that the office of Magi was held, for a time, by a woman. It had been decided that the office of Magi should not be denied to whomever was deemed most capable. Since men and women partake of reason in equal measure, it is only natural that at times this should be a woman rather than a man. Some might suggest, of course, that one is more rational than the other, but this would be a mistake, for to speak is to reason - and in that sense one must conclude that, contrary to prejudice, women, in speaking more, are the more rational of the genders.

At any rate, the Black Adder refused to make this ruse known to either the people of Lapulia or to the enemies or allies of the Magic Tower. It was thought to be for the best, and there were times and circumstances when this was probably the case.

The rank of an individual Adder was known only to those within their own order. Thus, one could never quite be certain of how important or powerful the particular member might be. There was even some remote chance that the man to whom Captain Proud spoke was the Magi himself. With shudder the captain pushed this remote possibility from his mind.

'Shall I tell you all the secrets of the Magi?' Thann asked, or shall I tell you what you are to do?'

'Forgive me, my lord,' Proud said with a bow, 'What is the will of the Tower?'

'Send them away,' Thann said quickly. 'But if they do not leave - and it has been thrice foretold that they shall not - then sink them one and all.'

The Magic Tower fixed its beam of light upon the Fatewind, shining upon Lord Pelas himself, who shut his eyes so that he would not appear to shrink away from the attention. He felt the warmth upon his face and imagined that it was the very power of heaven pouring into him.

The Eighteenth, which was the name of Captain Proud's warship (I will have more to say regarding the methods of naming that are utilized by the Lapulians in another work), followed the light, its dark red sails flapping in the wind. A green flag was raised above the masts and the strong voice of Captain Proud flew across the water.

He said, 'Hail travelers! You have entered waters protected by the Tower of Lapulia! Turn aside and let us take council together, lest the Watchers of the Tower think that you have come to vex the land of Dominas and its people.'

Pelas raised his arm in agreement, and ordered the oarsmen to bring the ship around, so that they might receive the Lapulians. When the ships were close enough, the Lapulain sailors lowered planks across and bound them in place with ropes. Four Lapulian sailors stepped lightly across the slender wooden bridge, all dressed in blue tunics and black trousers, each with two short-swords hung at their waists. They were followed by Captain Proud and Thann, who stood just behind him with his cloak darkening all but his mouth and chin. The seamen walked with a fixed pace, but the Black Adder seemed to glide across the deck, his steps so even and precise that his head did not lift or rise with his gait, even with all the motion of the ship. Pelas looked warily at the dark figure, but kept his nerve when he addressed Captain Proud.

'Hail, friend,' he began, 'I trust that the Tower of Lapulia will accept our apologies, if in any way our fleet has inconvenienced or alarmed the citizens and lords of the Magic City.'

'It has not come to that,' Captain Proud stated firmly. 'But a fleet of this size cannot pass unchecked or without permission. The safety of many souls falls into our hands, and we must hold fast to our duty.'

Pelas was frustrated by his answer, but retained his composure. 'Then let us speak no further of these matters. Be at ease, for we bear no ill will toward the people of the Magic City.'

'That I appreciate well enough,' Captain Proud replied. 'My name is Proud, and I am captain over the Eighteenth Warship. In the name of the city of Lapulia I must ask you to turn about and return to the North. These waters, as I said, are protected by the Tower, and we will not risk the safety of our people until this fleet; a fleet of war by appearances, returns to the North.'

'I am Lord Pelas of Sunlan, lord of Ilvas and son of Lord Parganas,' Pelas replied proudly.

Proud looked confused at his words. Never having heard of those places or persons, he knew not what to make of his bold declaration concerning his identity. 'We come,' Pelas continued, 'to make war indeed, but not against Lapulia or its neighbors, but against the great Serpent of the sea.'

This statement almost forced a laugh from Captain Proud's mouth. Even the Lapulians do not dare face that monster,' he said.

Thann stepped forward, coming to stand beside Captain Proud. He was several inches shorter than the captain, but the mystery that shadowed him made his presence all the greater than Proud's.

He spoke quietly and without emotion.

'We know you, Lord Pelas, Aedanla's son. Your coming and your mission is no mystery to the Tower.'

Captain Proud gasped, but the look he received from the Black Adder restored his composure in an instant. 'You seek not only the Beast of the Sea, but also that of the earth and the air. But you shall slay neither, and you will perish in the waters. It has been foretold.'

Pelas found himself trembling ever so slightly, not knowing what to make of the strange man's words. He had spoken his mother's name, which even the elves of Sunlan did not know ere the coming of the elves of Ilvas. How could this man, who certainly had never set foot in Sunlan, much less in Alwan, know the name of the Queen of Bel Albor? And he also said that his failure was foretold. Filled with fear, Pelas stepped back from the dark man, looking to Bralohi like a lost child. Bralohi stood still like a statue and nodded at his master, passion in his eyes.

The confidence of his servant reminded him of his ambitions. 'Foretold? We shall see. The son of Parganas is not one to shrink from danger; even if that danger be brought to him by Fate herself. For I am Fate. And my deeds are Fateful. We come into these waters not as enemies, but we shall leave, and leave of our own accord and in the direction of our own choosing, whether you will be friends or foes to us. Fate has brought us hither, and Fate will deliver us from your TOWER,' and he spoke this last word with such contempt that the Black Adder stepped back in shock. For there were none among the Lapulians who would dare speak of the Tower or its masters with such contempt.

Regaining his composure, the Adder hissed, 'Our fleet bars the way, you shall not pass us as a living soul.'

Thann, followed by Captain Proud and then, at last, by his guards, returned to the Eighteenth warship and lifted the bridge from the Fatewind. Turning slowly about, they sailed east toward their fleet. Several flags of different colors and patterns were raised. A red flag signifying war, a blue flag signifying patience and a white flag with a black ring in the center, demonstrating the formation the fleet should assume. Thus the warships of Lapulia were commanded not to attack until the elves drew first blood, and to move into the southern path of the Sunlan fleet. This they did swiftly and with great precision.

'That is remarkable,' Bralohi whistled as he watched them take their positions. 'These are a people who can fight at sea.'

'Indeed,' Pelas said. 'But our sailors are as experienced as they. Moreover, our captains have, most of them, more experience than any of our foes can possibly hope to attain. For the career of an Immortal never reaches its peak, and our talents are never exhausted.'

Bralohi nodded, but doubted what he had heard.

Sol, who was, of all the high elves, most knowledgeable concerning the mortals, had long argued that the elves should not trust in their long lives to bring them an increase in either strength, wisdom or skill. 'Many an elf has fallen to the blade of one who, to us, is a mere infant. But how can such a thing be? Unless there is some level of ability that cannot be surpassed and some height of strength that cannot be exceeded. It is not as though our ancient ones can lift more weight than a strong-hearted Essene or sail with greater adeptness than a clever Knariss.'

These words weighed heavily upon him, but he was resolved to fight with his all for Lord Pelas, who alone, he thought, might someday bring the rule of the elves into the south. The lords of the north, Parganas and Ijjan alike, were too content in their rich palaces. An elf who had the courage to take upon himself the rule of the southern world, and to make an end to his human rivals; that is where the future of the immortals lay. 'For there will come a day,' he thought to himself, 'when these mortals will not be content with their lot, and the gentle golden palace of Sunlan and the teetering stone house of Parganas will not endure their fury. 'Elves live slowly,' Sol had also said. 'When our passions are excited, we can war for centuries, but the fury of a mortal, who knows that tomorrow he shall die, is swifter than any elf can comprehend.'

Fire Water

Lord Pelas refused every attempt his companions made to dissuade him from making an assault against the warships of Lapulia. In the end he sided with the council of Oblis and Cheru - even Ginat pleaded against him. His orders were shouted from ship to ship until every captain knew what he must do. At first light, Primsol and his brother Duesol, the sons of Sol, along with Rudjan, prince of Sunlan, made the first attack. They sailed quickly and skillfully into the enemy fleet casting harpoons and firing arrows at their foes. From the deck of Duesol's warship a volley of flame-lit arrows struck the side of a Lapulian vessel, quickly burning through the hull and spreading across the deck.

Primsol and Rudjan each sailed alongside a Lapulian ship and fired their ballistas, each armed with a long harpoon, into the hull of their enemies, showering the sailors with arrows all the while. When the ships came close enough one to the other, the elves began to swing across the waters onto the Lapulian ships. Soon the other elves joined in, each charging after a different warship, hoping to make as quick an end of the entire fleet as Duesol had made of his first foe.

After nearly a dozen warships had been sunk, a horn blared. It began low, sounding like an ordinary ram's horn, but as each moment passed it's volume increased, until it filled the ears of every man and elf on the waters. It lasted much longer than any man's lungs could have managed. The noise was almost deafening, and Pelas could not hear his own orders, though he shouted with all the bombast he could manage.

Cheru, seeing his lips moving, just covered his ears and shook his head.

The noise cut off so abruptly, and all else was so quiet in comparison, that for a moment Pelas thought the sound had actually destroyed his ears, rendering him deaf. The moment of horror passed, however, as a dozen dull thuds echoed across the water from the Magic Tower.

'What is that now, a drum?' Pelas asked in frustration. But it was not, as was the horn, merely empty noise. Within a few seconds there was a harsh whistle in the air as a dozen iron balls, each the size of a man's skull, flew passed the Fatewind and battered the warship of Duesol, shattering its mainmast and piercing its hull.

Every elf stood frozen in horror as the ship began to break apart, filling with water faster than they could ever have expected. They had very little time to consider these events, however, as another volley of iron balls flew into one of Sol's vessels, sinking it within a few minutes. After another ship was demolished, Ghastin shouted from the deck of the Dadiiron, much to the disbelief of his companions, 'They come from the Tower! From the Tower itself!'

Sure enough, another volley of iron balls shattered the vessel of Rudjan, sending the prince flailing through the air as the deck was split into a hundred pieces. Pelas ran to the edge of the ship, staring at the Tower helplessly. His mind was racing, it seemed, but he could not understand his own thoughts. He felt as though he were searching for some thought or some course of action that would make an end of this disaster, but he came up blank. In that moment of horror he scarcely could recall his own name.

As the ships of Sunlan vanished beneath the waves, a new cry of terror arose among the elves. The Lapulian navy had begun its counterattack. The Eighteenth pulled up alongside one of the Knariss vessels and, at the command of Captain Proud, hatches opened from its side spilling flame out upon the deck of their enemy as though they were pouring water from a pitcher. The ship and its crew burned up in a great blaze, their anguished screams filling the air. Soon the sea was littered with the burning wrecks of Sunlan warships, as the Lapulian fleets executed their strategy.

Through all these dangers Falruvis sailed skillfully and courageously. When first the Tower fired upon the elves, he turned his ship around and rushed to the side of Duesol's wreck. There he pulled the son of Sol from the water along with a great many others, moving away just in time to avoid another volley of iron balls from the Tower. One of these scraped the mainmast, but left only a few scratches as it flew past the ship into the water, sinking to the bottom of the sea never to be seen again.

Dalia watched in amazement as the battle raged. Amro had warned her to stay out of the way, but the sight of the Tower and the power of the Lapulians held her in awe. She huddled near Falruvis' cabin in a place where the sailors would not likely need to walk.

Falruvis took the helm himself and evaded another volley, deftly cutting through the water and bringing the ship into the heart of the battle. 'Fire the ship!' he shouted, ordering his archers to prepare their bows as they were approached by another Lapulian vessel. 'Now!' he screamed. Twenty flaming shafts flew skillfully from the deck, five striking sailors, four the sails, and the rest the deck and the hull.

In a short time, despite the panicked efforts of the Lapulian sailors, the ship was beyond help. The sailors cast their lot with the sharks and abandoned their vessel to the flames.

For every ship the elves managed to burn, however, the Lapulians burned three. Their weaponry proved superior in every regard.

Except...

Dalia looked up at the Tower with wide eyes. She rose from her hiding place and ran to the end of the deck, looking out into the northwest, where the greater portion of the Sunlan fleet yet remained. 'Bring them in toward the city! Into the battle, now!'

Amro, who was struggling to restring his bow, froze when he saw her rushing about on the deck. Thinking she had gone mad with fear he dropped the bow and rushed to her side. 'Dalele!' he shouted with a worried voice.

When Ghastin heard her name shouted he leapt from the aftcastle and landed with a thud upon the deck. 'What is it?' he demanded of his brother. Amro just pointed at Dalia as she rushed about the ship frantically. She was trying to climb up to the helm to speak with Falruvis.

The two caught her ere she reached the top of the stair. 'What is it, Dalele?' Ghastin said impatiently. They held her arms fast.

'Release me at once, fools!' she cried. 'Look at the Tower! It has not once fired upon a ship within three bowshots of their own warships.'

Amro made to pull her back down the stairs, but Ghastin stopped him. 'Amro, she speaks the truth. So long as our ships remain aloof, they will be easy prey for the Magi.'

'Falruvis!' Amro shouted, after a moment of thought. 'We must signal Pelas! The Tower has not fired once upon their own ships; we must bring in the fleet.'

'But the flames!' Falruvis replied. 'These ships breathe fire like fell Thaeton of legend. It is death by iron or death by flame; we would do nought but travel from the one doom to the other.'

At that moment Dalele cupped her hand to her mouth and pointed off the port side of the Dadiiron. About a stone's throw over the water there sailed a Lapulian warship, sending flames upon the deck of Sunlan ship. 'They have no weapons on their starboard side,' Falruvis realized. 'Dalele!' he said with awe.

A great number of their ships were destroyed before Falruvis was able to signal the other captains, directing them to exploit the vulnerability that Dalia had discovered. Falruvis knew that all of these efforts had worked when at last the Tower fell silent, being unable to target the elves without risking the ships of Lapulia.

Not every Lapulian ship bore that same defect. It was clear that the larger ships could spout fire from either the starboard or the port side. The Eighteenth could send fire from the bow and stern as well, and was therefore unapproachable to the elves, except by bow and arrow.

Primsol, the son of Sol, attempted to make an end of Captain Proud in this way, but he was struck in the face by an iron ball that had been sent ripping through the air by the Lapulian's Firesling.

Whatever else might happen that day, Captain Proud was not going to let some 'womanish' foreigner poke him with an arrow.

Primsol died that instant, his body crashing lifelessly to the deck.

When the Tower ceased firing, Lord Pelas regained his composure and took command once more of the fleet. With all their allies gathered together they sailed around the Lapulians, some ships baiting them while others assailed them from their undefended sides. So while the Lapulians poured out flames toward on foe, another came behind them and attacked them with arrows and harpoons.

Several of the Lapulian ships exploded with a great roar when struck by the flaming arrows of the elves. Moreover, some of the Lapulian warships, seeming to have expended their fire, turned to arrows and boarding parties even as did the elves. In these contests the elves and the Knariss had the advantage, for they were generally more skilled than the Lapulian sailors, who were unaccustomed to fighting hand to hand while at sea.

'These are not men but devils!' Captain Proud cursed as he looked upon the horrors of the battle. Some forty-six warships had been utterly destroyed, while another twelve were damaged beyond aid. Never in all his days had he seen an enemy so fierce and so mighty. 'Send for the Nineteenth and the Twentieth!' he shouted after one of his sailors. Careful, the man who had woken him with the news of the coming of the elves, turned to look at him. 'Yes sir!' he said, turning on the spot and heading toward the mast upon which was fixed the signal flags of the Lapulian navy. But before he could make any alteration to them, Thann, the Black Adder, appeared, seemingly from out of the empty air. 'No,' he said imperiously. 'It is enough.'

'What do you mean?' Proud shouted, halting Careful's flight with a raised hand. The younger man stopped and turned to face the two older men. Thann held up his white hand toward the Tower for several moments, and then, seeing a light flicker atop the structure in answer, lowered his attention back to the deck of the Eighteenth.

'There will be no need for further fighting,' he said. 'They have learned to fear us.' Thann turned and made his way toward the Captain's cabin - which would normally be reserved for Proud himself.

'We are to let them pass, then? And we are to let them go unpunished for their deeds?'

Thann turned quickly and returned to face the captain; anger in his eyes.

'Since when were you made the High Mage? Since when has all the wisdom of the Magic City been entrusted to you? How dare you?'

'I am sorry, my lord. I just,' and then he sighed, falling into silence.

Thann seemed to soften, if such a thing is possible for a Black Adder. He said, 'Let them leave; our revenge shall come in time. You and I shall not see it, but the Tower has seen it already, and shall yet stand to see it again when in time it comes.'

Captain Proud did not even attempt to understand that riddle.

He did, however, ask just one thing more. 'Why? You said that they must be destroyed.'

Thann answered coldly, 'That is what you needed to believe.'
[Chapter IV:  
The Burning of Dominas](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Into The South

Without warning the great horn of the Magic Tower blared again, deafening the elves and men alike, though the Lapulians were certainly more accustomed to the experience. A great host of Fireships then appeared from within the port, as if to say that the City of Magic could, if it so pleased, make an end of them. Between the horn and the ships the elves could do very little, and the Lapulian fleet made an easy retreat. Some ships remained to search the water for any who may have survived. The elves, also, seeing that their enemies had departed, made a reckoning of their losses and gathered what could be saved from those ships that had been damaged. Altogether they had lost a hundred and thirty vessels beneath the surface of the water. Another dozen ships would have to be abandoned, being too damaged to sail. Of those that remained some forty vessels would need major repairs.

'We must find a port quickly,' Aebral said to his father, as they finally began sailing into the south. The bright watch light of the Tower shone upon the Fatewind relentlessly, as if the Magi hoped the light itself would drive the elves away. Shielding his eyes, Bralohi said, 'Indeed, but not here, and not for another hundred leagues.'

'All the land of Dominas is loyal to the Magi,' Aebral said glumly, 'We shall not have an easy time finding help.'

'We shall make our own help, then,' Pelas interrupted. 'There are many ports along the coast, as the men of Inklas had reported. One of these cities shall assist us.'

'But surely they will not help the enemies of the Tower!' Aebral said with amazement.

'They will; but they will not will to,' Pelas snorted, pleased with his own humor.

Oblis chuckled fiercely.

By nightfall they had rescued who they could from the water. 'If there are more,' Falruvis said, 'then we shall not find them in this darkness.'

When the battle had ended, and the rescue had been halted by the coming of night, Dalia vanished beneath the deck, finding her way through the dark to her bunk. There she vanished into her blankets and wept. Falruvis sought her out, but Ghastin stood in his path. 'Let her rest,' he said, not as a request.

'I mean to thank her; she saved more than the Dadiiron this day.'

'And thank her you shall. But remember, she did not come to become a warrior, but rather a sailor and a treasure hunter. If any violence was expected, it was in the hunt of the Sea Monster itself, and not in warfare with men.'

'But these were mere mortals,' Falruvis said, as if one oughtn't concern themselves with such things.

'Indeed,' Ghastin sniffed, 'Mere mortals! Never again shall the elves call the men of Lapulia THAT!'

Falruvis nodded.

Ghastin explained, 'Let her rest; she saw more blood and fire and heard more anguish and terror today than one such as she ought ever to encounter with ears and eyes. She did a mighty thing today, and by her cunning spared many souls, both among the Knariss and among the elves. But she has no taste for such things.'

'Very well,' Falruvis said, 'But I shall not neglect to reward her duly for what she has done.

'Don't forget, but leave her in peace nonetheless. If ever we return to Sunlan, there will be time a plenty for rewards. And if not, then such rewards will be meaningless.'

When Amro came to his bunk late in the night he found Dalia still weeping silently beneath her blankets. He drew close and moved the covers away from her face. Her eyes were lidless and dry; she seemed to stare out into the void of the sky itself, though she was in a narrow bunk in the cramped quarters of a ship.

'Why did you come with us, Dalele?' Amro said gently, though with all the signs of demand.

She said nothing for a while and then turned to face the wall. She sighed deeply, and her whole frame seemed to diminish as her breath passed from her. 'It is for Thuruvis,' she said in a whisper. 'My beloved is a servant in the city of my father. When it was reported that Pelas would be sailing he asked of my father that he might send him. But my father tested him with the blade. Thuruvis was not willing to humiliate his master, however, and my father took advantage of him, wounding him so that he would not be able to sail. The price he set upon my hand is such that only the hope of glory and gold that accompanies such a journey as this could possibly hope to pay for it. Thus, here I am, in my beloved's stead.'

Amro stared in awe at the girl, and shook his head in disbelief. 'I am bound to these people, Dalele,' he said at last. 'But I am not loyal to them. I will see to it that you attain such glory and gold as to make Dalta's eyes blind by the splendor of it!'

'No, uncle!' she said, turning again to face him. 'I cannot ask any to help me in this.'

'Think nothing of it, brave Dalele,' he said. 'I shall see to it whether you ask it or not - even to the point of paying the gold of my own purse. I told you already, Dalele,' he smiled, 'I am bound to this life, but not loyal to it. If I can seek your good in my service to Pelas, then that only shall bring me joy.'

'And I too,' Ghastin said, as he walked into the quarters. He looked around to see whether there were any others awake.

'Brother, you have the ears of a wolf!' Amro smiled.

Ghastin laughed, 'I too remember our old life, brother, and I have no great love for any but our own kin.'

'But I am the daughter of Dalta, an elf of Ilvas, now lord of Centan in Sunlan.'

Both of the brothers laughed as she spoke, 'Indeed, but you are the daughter of Ele - and is there any on this world more deserving than she? And how shall we serve her if we serve not her daughter, whose beauty and grace is equal to her mother's?'

'I can never repay you, my dear uncles!' she said, still barely above a whisper.

'If we succeed, and I can promise no such thing, then your happiness shall be our reward,' Amro said.

Ghastin nodded, and slapped his brother's shoulder. Surely there was no elf or man more noble than his brother, he thought.

Pirates

The winds were good as the fleet made its way south. When first they had the opportunity they made land and, felling many trees, wrought upon their ships what repairs they deemed to be most necessary. Scouts were sent inland to see if any rumor had reached the people concerning the battle at Lapulia's port, but the scouts returned all saying the same thing, 'The people of the land have heard nothing.'

When they had finished their repairs they set out once again, passing several small ports as they made their way south. After two weeks they came within sight of a small fishing village. 'The houses look well kept,' Pelas said, pondering the sight as though something lay hidden beneath what he and his captains beheld.

'It is well kept,' Aebral said, not imagining what had so captured the attention of his lord.

'They have wealth, but they fear nothing. But we have taught even their protectors to fear.'

Having no hope of reaching a friendly port or finding a city along the coast of Dominas that was not loyal to Lapulia, Pelas ordered his servants aground, sending them to plunder what goods they might from the fishermen. Some of his servants protested; Bralohi and Kolohi both advised against it. Falruvis, also, objected, but none of these men refused to obey. Led by the sons of Sol, a party of three hundred was sent ashore in boats, armed with chain mail and swords. The men of the village had nothing in the way of weapons, ever having trusted in the Tower for safety by sea. They were quickly overrun, their guards slain and their goods stolen. Barrel after barrel of fruit and ale were carried aboard the ships, each vessel taking a portion of the plunder.

The sun rose over the western shore of Dominas to find the elves hard at work making repairs to their ships, making captives of the young men of the village and otherwise taking what they wished or needed from the village.

Dalia remained below decks through it all, having little stomach for what was being done ashore.

Amro helped Falruvis where he was needed, but did nothing more than he was commanded to do.

Ghastin did nothing at all. He went ashore the morning after the raid and disappeared into the northern woodlands, saying only that he was hunting and should return ere they departed. He returned with a wolf pelt and the body of a large stag slung over his shoulders.

'You shall not vanish from this ship again,' Falruvis said harshly. 'Or from your duty to its captain!'

'How have I done any such thing?' Ghastin said coldly. 'Lord Pelas commanded us to restore the ship's stores by going ashore and taking what we needed from the people of Dominas. Your men have taken from the fishermen, and I have taken what would otherwise have belonged to its hunters. My lord Pelas should speak more clearly, if he wishes our actions to be of one sort rather than another.'

Amro stood nearby, watching his brother nervously. When he was a boy Ghastin had come home to the forge with the strange doctrines of one of the Essene prophets pouring from his mouth. Amro ignored him at first, but when he saw that the boy truly believed the words of the mortals, he ridiculed him into silence, and then forbid him to even speak of the Essene teacher he had seen.

The doctrines of the elves, he knew, were quite false. As long as one was aware of this, they could live quite peacefully, knowing that they were made only to control the mortals. But the doctrines that arose among the mortals themselves, he thought, were especially dangerous, for they were born of an impatient despair the elves, having all the time they could desire, could never truly fathom.

'This man spoke such truth!' Ghastin had argued.

'Mortals live but a day, little brother,' he had said, smirking at the thought that a mere man could know what the elves themselves but struggled with. 'The oldest elf could not tell you the truth; how then should he know it?'

Ghastin breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling. He was confused, yet impassioned beyond anything Amro had seen in a child his age. He sighed and said, 'Just get back to your work, brother, we shall not discover the truth if we do not earn a living.'

It was partly because of what Ghastin had said during that time that Amro felt obliged to submit to the captivity of Pelas. Now his brother seemed to remember nothing of those strange doctrines - doctrines about gentleness, unity, kindness and the like. He was a bow bent hard, ready to pierce whoever stood in its path. Once he attempted to ask Ghastin about those days, but Ghastin only laughed and muttered something about being a child. Now Amro longed for that childishness. It seemed there scarcely remained anything within his brother's heart, except a mad protectiveness toward Amro, Ele and Dalele, the three souls he did not utterly despise.

Falruvis noticed Amro's gaze, and nodded sternly at Ghastin. 'Do not think that I am without distress over what has come to be. But it is not our place to question Lord Pelas' commands.'

'No, it is not. Thus, not having questioned them, I could not have known that he meant me to steal dried meat from the village, rather than fresh meat from the forest.'

Ghastin, seeing Falruvis nervously looking at Amro, turned and walked away, looking for a place to clean and skin his prey.

The Serpent Seen

For the next ten months the elves lived essentially as pirates. They sailed south around the land of Dominas, coming to the open waters from whence the Dawn itself was born anew each morning. They were careful to avoid the east, where the navy of Lapulia was strong. They built a small fortress on the eastern shores of Dominas in a harbor called Grenost, where they could safeguard their treasure and provisions.

In their raids they acquired an additional thirty warships, and trained their own sailors to captain them. The greater part of their fleet now settled in Grenost, remaining behind while smaller fleets would sail against the southernmost cities of Dominas.

On several occasions they encountered Lapulians, sometimes being driven away, sometimes driving the Lapulians back into the north. They did not face the Magi in force again. It was only when their raids fell within three hundred leagues or so of the Magic City that any effort was made to confront them. 'The scourge shall not endure forever,' Thann informed Captain Proud, who was eager to sail against the elves in force. 'In three years time they shall vanish away, and you shall hear not a whisper of them for the rest of your days.'

'Is this also 'Foretold'?' he asked shaking his head.

'Such is not your concern, Captain,' Thann replied imperiously.

Along the eastern shores of Dominas there were many ports and villages that either had no dealings with the Lapulians or who themselves also hated the people of the Magic Tower. Among these people dwelt the Lakil and the Snakil, the former of whom dwelt upon the shores of a great lake surrounded by a dense jungle. The Snakil, whose skin is said to be dark as coal, dwelt within the jungle itself, and also, to some extent, upon the shores of the sea. Among the Lakil the Lapulians were regarded with disdain. They were worshippers of the Ancient Dragon, the elves came to learn, and it was their belief that the world would be restored by Thiatt Tottwon (clearly a derivative of Thaeton) when at last the Magic Tower was brought down. Against the sorcerers of Lapulia, however, the dragon worshippers had very little success. The Snakil hated the magicians of western Dominas, but they were also distrustful of the men of Lakil.

The coming of the elves was received by both of these people as a sign of some great turning. For the Snakil it meant only that there were still some in the world with might enough to resist the Tower. But for the Lakemen, it was the hand of Fate itself. This, of course, was well received by Lord Pelas, who made no effort to dispel their expectations. He never claimed to be a god, but if they said it of him of their own accord, who was he to deny their perceptions?

The weather in that land was calm and warm, regardless of the season. The elves spent a great deal of effort preparing to winter in the harbor, but nothing resembling that cruel season so much as touched the southern shores of Dominas. 'I could live out my days here,' many an elf and man said as they spent the winter months wearing little more than they did in the summer.

As the fourteenth month from their departure approached, a group of Snakil fishermen came rowing into the harbor, their small boat battered and broken. Two of their oarsmen paddled with little more than broken stumps of wood, but they were so frantic that, though their efforts did very little to move the boat, they nevertheless gave it their all. Fear hung over them, and their eyes shone from their dark faces bright and clear.

Recognizing them, the watchmen hurried out to meet them. The men rowed past them, however, and did not stop until their feet were firmly planted on the ground. When they had been fed and warmed near a roaring fire, and given some ale to calm their nerves, they explained the cause of their sudden and strange appearance. As soon as they had spoken they were brought before Pelas, to repeat their tale in full.

There were six men altogether. Their leader was a strange sight to behold for the elves: an old man with hair as white as his skin was black. 'The Worm came to breathe,' he rasped.

'To breathe?' Pelas said, surprised. 'You mean, then, that this beast is a whale? One of the air breathers of the deep?'

'No, my sir, for the whale is pig skinned; this one was dragon-skinned.'

'You mean it had scales?' Bralohi asked.

'Armor over every inch of its body,' the man said. We saw its snout rise from the depths, and the spray of his nostrils was a rainstorm. And when he took in breath it was as though he swallowed the west wind itself. Two boats we lost down his throat, and seven more were battered together in the tumult. We were separated from our companions - Galmod help them!' The man grasped his white hair in his fists and pulled hard against his scalp. 'My son was among them, Galmod help him!'

Pelas looked compassionately upon him, kneeling so that he could look the man in the eyes. 'Fear not, old father, we shall see to it. For it is to this end that we have come to this harbor - to slay the Serpent.'

The old man looked at him with anger, but when he saw that Pelas was not mocking him, his face became fearful. With his eyes held wide open he said, 'You cannot kill the Worm,' he stated flatly. A great resignation seemed to fill his voice as he spoke, 'If my son has fallen below the waves, so be it. Let not his fate trouble you, my lord. If my people are swallowed whole, so let it be, but do not let it trouble you. If the Worm comes for my flesh in the night, as I rest upon the seashore, or if he come during the day, when I gather fish from the sea, so be it; do not let that trouble you, my lord.'

'Nonetheless,' Pelas said confidently, 'I shall slay the Worm, and your people will feast upon his flesh for a hundred years.'

By the following morning a fleet of thirty vessels was sailing out of the harbor of Grenost with full crews and as many harpoons as they could store. The old man of the Snakil, a chieftain named Jarot, accompanied them, saying, 'I have seen the Worm - and the Worm has seen me.' It was a held among the Snakil that the once a man has seen the Worm it was his fate to perish thereby, unless he avoided the ocean altogether. Some of their legends even recounted stories about men who, seeing the Worm, kept to the land altogether, only to be swallowed up when the monster crept up the river and devoured their villages. 'But the Worm comes not onto the land,' Jarot explained. 'For he fears the Beast.'

'The Beast?' Pelas asked, wondering if he meant the monster that Agonas sought. 'You mean the Beast of the Earth?'

'Indeed,' Jarot said, 'the Beast who rules over the land even as the Worm rules the sea.'

'Who rules over the air?' Aebral asked, overhearing their conversation.

Jarot shook his head to indicate that this was not something fit to be spoken of, and continued speaking of the Beast of the Earth as though the son of Bralohi had said nothing. 'The Beast fears the Serpent, and the Serpent fears the Beast. It is said that it is for this reason that the land itself does not fall into the sea, and the sea does not transgress its boundary.'

'Then oughtn't we leave them be?' Bralohi asked thoughtfully. 'We would not want such a thing to happen.'

'No,' Jarot said somberly. 'That is just a story of my people.'

Bralohi nodded with a look of embarrassment on his face, his lips curled into a very slight grin. 'Of course,' he said, annoyed that he had begun to take the man's stories seriously.

'How do you know that it is not also legend,' Aebral asked, 'that the Worm seeks those who escape his jaws?'

'How does a man know anything?' the man asked fiercely, and the elves made no answer.

They sailed east for three days. Pelas followed Jarot's whims as though they were the dictates of an oracle or a seer. If Jarot said, 'Turn north for bit,' or, 'we must sail south of the Ruguna Isles,' then so Pelas commanded.

Bralohi watched all this with concern, thinking, 'Is this what his fatefulness has brought him? Credulity unparalleled?'

Ruguna was a place of clear blue seas and golden shores. There were almost fifty little islands sprawled about, some with smoking volcanos threatening them at every moment. As the fleet passed them by Dalia, from the deck of the Dadiiron, saw three tiny children running along the shores, wearing almost nothing, their sun blackened skin almost indistinguishable from their shadows.

'Who are those children?' she asked Amro. 'Of what tribe are they?'

He shrugged. 'Who can say?'

'Is there any place in the world that is not filled to the brim with men?' Dalia asked.

'Indeed; but we are still very near to Dominas. They say that in Kharku there are lands unseen by mortal and immortal alike. And south of Kharku, they say, is a land of ice and frost.' He laughed again, 'and then there are some who say that this frozen land of the south is the very same land we call the Far North - so that the further south you go, the closer you are to the north. They say that the whole world is wrapped around a great wheel.'

She laughed also, her spirits lifting a little. She had faced every danger thus far with courage and grace, but she could not have, from her comfortable upbringing, have imagined just how long a journey like this would feel. She felt old, if ever elves could feel such a thing, and she longed for the company of her beloved. 'Thuruvis,' she whispered into the cool sea air. She laughed, 'If it were not for the dangers I would wish that you were here with me. As for the dangers, I know you would brave them all for my sake. And so I shall brave them for you.'

The main fleet of the elves remained in Grenost. Sol had taken his ships on a raid in Dominas. After his son was killed during the battle at Lapulia harbor, he fought relentlessly against the people of Dominas, his son Duesol ever at his side. Seven times he had come within sight of the Magic City itself, hoping to draw from its gates the ship of Captain Proud. But Lapulia remained silent and impregnable, never answering his challenge. Almost every port now kept a fleet of warships at the ready, so the battles grew more and more difficult as time passed. Sol was now the only elf willing to face the fireships of Lapulia in battle. The rest had taken to raiding fishing villages or attacking merchants at sea.

The Fatewind and the Dadiiron were now almost inseparable. That Falruvis' ship had saved all their lives when the Tower assailed them was no secret, and Pelas promised Falruvis and its crew great rewards upon their victorious return to Sunlan. He kept Falruvis close at all times, in council upon the land, and when sailing upon the water. They raided together, fished together, and traded goods along the eastern coast of Dominas as if their ships were bound together by cords. 'Fate it was that stayed my hand,' Pelas said with godlike confidence, 'when in the dark of night I spared the life of Ruvis' son.'

Cheru and Oblis remained ever at Pelas' side, standing beside him as though they were the two wings of a great eagle. Far from being bothered by their attention, he accepted it as a sign of the honor he would someday receive from all creatures.

Ginat had grown tired of waiting in Grenost, and had therefore asked leave to sail with Sol in his raids.

The elves were not the only pirates on the eastern coast of Dominas. There were some pirates who sailed the treacherous waters near the Vestron coast. These were strong men and brave sailors for risking such waters, but they met no success against Pelas and his fleet of immortals. But Pelas was not willing to leave Grenost wholly unprotected while he investigated the tales of Jarot. Thus the greater part of his fleet remained in the harbor while he and a select few ships pursued the Monster of the Sea.

When at last Pelas found what he sought, however, he wished he had brought with him, not only those ships he had left behind in Grenost, but also those he had sacrificed to his pride in the battle against the Magic Tower of Lapulia. His fleet of three hundred ships had seemed to him a matter of pomp and ceremony, as if they would, by sending such a fleet, demonstrate the splendor and might of Sunlan to the people of Dominas. But the people of Dominas had halved their fleet, and he was soon to learn that even the full three hundred ships would not have been sufficient.
[Chapter V:  
Peril At Sea](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

When first the Serpent did they find,

Dalele left not a soul behind,

But bled red blood that they might be,

Saved from the master of the sea.

Three Spirits

'You always know more than you let on,' Folly complained as he sat atop the mainmast of the Fatewind. Death, standing upon nothing but the air itself, said nothing.

Old Man Sleep, also standing upon nothing, spoke saying, 'Together there are very few things we do not know. Yet what does knowledge avail us? For our steps our fixed from the beginning.'

'And whose steps are not?' Folly laughed. 'Whether you know your reasons or not, you have no more power than before.'

'So says Folly!' Sleep laughed gently.

'Enough,' Death whispered coldly. His black-cloaked arm stretched out from his side and pointed at Lord Pelas, who had just come out of his cabin to the deck. The other two spirits became silent in an instant.

Sleep sighed. 'It is the fourth night that he has forgone sleep,' he confessed. Folly's head pricked up and, grasping his robes between his fists he descended to the deck, landing without a sound beside the son of Parganas.

'Then he is mine!' Folly chuckled happily, 'and then after that-' his smile thinned and he looked up at the menacing form of black Death. 'He is mine now,' he said with a nod.

Lightning tore through the air, and Death stood between him and his prey.

'You would not rob me of my due, brother?' Folly laughed.

Death said nothing, but remained still, as if he were guarding Pelas.

Sleep, finally taking the form of an old man cloaked in gray, approached his brothers hurriedly. 'It is not fitting that we should be at odds one with another.'

'And why not?' Folly said, seeming to regain his joyfulness despite Death's intrusion upon his entertainment. 'Shall you impugn the Decree? Shall you question the Power?' Folly's voice was filled with a fierceness Death could scarcely have matched. But before either of his brothers could reply he burst into a grin and bellowed an embarrassing laugh.

'You know what I mean,' Sleep said sourly.

'Into the hands of Sleep near every man must pass, save those who perish at their mother's breast ere their first night falls. Into your hands,' Death said, turning toward Folly, 'fall only those who have forsaken Wisdom, whether through strong drink, through sorrow or through happenstance-'

Folly laughed even harder, repeating Death's words, 'happenstance!'

Death was unbothered by his mockery. 'Into my hands every soul must pass.'

'What of the Guarantor?' Sleep said with awe.

'What do you mean?' Death said, almost sounding troubled - he was disappointed at the very least.

'Together,' Sleep said with a nod, as if he was just now confirming what he had said before, 'we know many things. But on our own we are not so very different from these mortals in our knowledge.'

Folly snorted, 'Indeed, we are so VERY much like them!'

Death made no reply, but it was clear that, in this case at least, his attitude was closer to that of Folly's than that of Sleep.

'Your power shall not be usurped, brother,' Sleep said, smiling at Folly and putting a kind hand upon his shoulder.

Death met this news with all the somberness of the grave itself, saying, 'Let it be according to the Decree.'

'Moreover,' Sleep said, 'concerning our knowledge: There is no need for you two to duel over this man. He shall be touched by Folly once more this night, even as he was touched when he faced the emissaries of the Tower. But Death shall not so much as strike down a rat upon this ship tonight.'

'For the girl again?' Folly whined.

'Her fate must be made such as has been Decreed,' Sleep said.

Folly spat, but Death grinned. 'Tonight is your night, brother,' he said to Folly, stepping out of his way and vanishing into the air as he did so.

Sleep nodded to his brother and faded into nothingness as well. Folly put his hands together and looked at Pelas thoughtfully. Jarot stood at the elf's side, telling him many legends of the Serpent, none of which were true, but all of which might easily bring the ship to be wrecked by the monster's fury. 'The white haired one scarcely needs any prodding at all,' Folly mused within himself. 'He is a natural madman - if ever there was such a thing. But this Pelas; his is a rare mind. The spirit reached out and touched the brow of Pelas, saying in a voice unbearable, 'If you had credited the tales of the Snakilman before, then now you shall believe them with all your heart.' Then he smiled, 'Death shall not have you, I think. You are mine; for now and for an age at least.'

The Storm

It is the way of the world, from time to time, to play tricks on the wills of men. Thus it was only when Pelas had at last forsaken the chase, and elected to return to Grenost that the path to the Serpent opened up.

They sailed almost due east under the direction of Jarot for nearly a week, but with no sign of their prey. Jarot's 'bones' told him a great many things, it seemed, and Pelas listened to each sensation as though it were the prophecy of a seer. He fed the old man from his own table and gave him fine clothing to wear. These honors seemed to inspire the man all the more to strange intuitions and foretellings, until even Oblis came to regard the man as a charlatan and a deceiver. But none dared speak such things to their lord. Pelas had proven himself to be in possession of a short temper and great wrath.

Seven Knariss sailors had been hung for stealing women from one of the Lakil villages. Pelas would hear nothing of their defense, though even the women themselves pleaded for an audience. That his servants would use this fateful voyage of his as a means to satisfy their own lusts and ambitions was more than he could tolerate. Another three sailors, one of them an elf, were locked away for six months because they questioned an order given by Bralohi.

Thus the crew of the Dadiiron could do nothing but clench their teeth to hold back their curses and criticisms - except for Falruvis, whose devotion to Pelas grew stronger in proportion to the praise his master showered upon him.

Bralohi was torn between affection and fear concerning his master. He still remembered how lost and naive Pelas had been when first he stumbled with his brother into the swamplands of Alwan. But Pelas' fierce trust in his Fate above all else made him fearful, both for Pelas and for himself. 'It was a hasty oath I swore, when I promised to serve him,' he told his brother Kolohi. 'And I was but half serious.'

He paused for a moment, as though he might find some ground for abandoning his loyalty on the ground that his oath was not given but in jest. But he knew that it would be naught but deceit to attempt such a thing. 'Regardless,' he resigned himself, 'I am already embarked on a journey; it is too late to turn aside.'

Of all Pelas' servants Bralohi was the most loyal and passionate. But this was more the result of his own fears, both for Pelas and his own safety, than it was for love. The only elves who truly bore such loyalty toward Pelas were Falruvis, Cheru and Oblis, the first on account of his pride, the second on account of his own viciousness and the last on account of his stupidity. The rest of his servants were his servants out of fear, in the case of the mortals, or for the sake of honor, as it was with the elves.

What patience his men had almost broke apart when Jarot, hoisting his moistened finger into the air and shouting, 'To the south! To the south!' led them into a hurricane.

Alsley clambored over the bulwark and swung upon a rope from the Dadiiron to the Fatewind to speak to Pelas face to face.

'My lord!' he said politely but fearfully.

'Speak, friend,' Pelas said, nodding at the Knariss sailor.

'I have seen seas like this before,' he explained. There is a storm coming,' he said without a hint of doubt in his voice. The two stood near the edge of the Fatewind's deck, both soaked from the spray of water that rained over the deck.

'You have risked these waves to tell me what I, having sailed far longer than you, already know?' Pelas asked, incredulous.

'But my lord,' Alsley said, suddenly realizing that there was nothing to be reasoned out. Lord Pelas had made his decision.

'According to the Snakil,' Pelas said, almost shouting to be heard over the wind, 'The Serpent makes such storms when it rises to breathe.'

'Is this true?' Alsley asked, looking over Pelas' shoulder at Jarot, who looked far fatter and healthier than he had been when he was rescued.

Jarot grinned, but said nothing. If his own life were not imperiled, Alsley would have accused him of conspiring against them, and trying to lead them to the grave. He was not convinced that this was not the case, though what motives the Snakilman might have he could not hope to guess.

'My lord,' Alsley attempted one last protest, 'it may be that this storm is the Serpent's doing. And perhaps it is not. Either way, a ship should not sail into it.'

'Do you fear death?' Pelas laughed. 'You, who carry death upon your shoulder. You are a mortal; you are already dying - today, tomorrow, ten years. You cannot choose to live forever, as we elves may, but you can choose the manner in which you live.'

'I do not fear death,' Alsley said almost too quietly to be heard. 'But, being mortal, as you say, I am close to it at every moment, and I know enough of it to understand that it ought not be sought instead of life.'

'I do not seek death, Alsley,' Pelas said sternly, with signs of impatience in his voice. 'I seek Glory. And Glory is not to be found save on the very threshold of Death's dominion. Besides,' and he looked up into the heavens as if he spoke to the wind itself, 'Death has no power but what Fate gives him.'

The Serpent

With unwavering courage, or Folly as his servants saw it, Pelas led his fleet into a storm such as few sailors live to recount. Lightning tore through the air, leaping and rushing around the ships, bringing thunder so loud that they thought the very sound of it would rend their ships asunder. The warships spun and dipped, sliding down the slopes of great waves and then rising anew in an instant upon what seemed like mountains of water. They were tossed about like leafs in a whirlwind, sometimes almost sinking beneath the surface, and other times leaving the water altogether only to come crashing down upon the surface, wood creaking, men shouting and the wind drowning out every other sound.

'To the south!' Jarot continued to bellow, as if the sailors could do aught but cling to the ropes and pray to the heavens for their lives. But when the night had passed, the ships emerged from the storm into an area of great calm. The wind still swirled about them, and thunder and lightning still tore the sky, but with the rising of the sun they saw the Serpent.

It's great head rose from the water slowly - at least, so it seemed. As the ships drew nearer to the monster they could see that it was not moving slowly at all, but its massive size, even at its great speed, made it seem as though its every motion were retarded. But when at last it came crashing down into the sea, the enormous waves that followed it revealed that this was no lumbering brute. Every sailor came up on the deck, and every man stared in awe at the monster.

It's head alone was the size of two entire warships. The head was covered in scales; not the scales of a fish, but the tough armor of a lizard. Its red snakelike eyes were the size of the archway of Ijjan's palace, cold and unfeeling. The men stared at those glowing red orbs in terror, as if the beast would turn and look at them at any moment. But the monster gave no sign that it had even noticed their warships. Upon the crest of its head there was series of great spikes, rising into the sky like a crown of towers. It's jaw was stronger than a mountain, and when it opened to fill the creature's lungs it pulled everything toward the monster. A stream of hot steam rose from its nostrils, and when he exhaled, the steam filled the air like the morning mist in a river valley.

When the Serpent dove beneath the water, its back arching above its head as it plunged below, spine after spine seemed to march in succession, revealing to the elves that those towering spikes they saw upon the monster's head continued all the way down its back.

'One of those spines could split a ship in twain,' Amro said, marveling at the beast's might.

'We will die,' Dalia said quietly, as one who had forsaken all hope.

'Not if we turn away before the monster sees us,' Ghastin said.

'We will not turn away,' Falruvis said, trying very hard to sound as though he was not afraid. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted to the Fatewind, 'Master Pelas! What shall we do?'

Pelas started as one awakened from a deep slumber. His hands gripped the rails so tightly that his fingers had turned almost completely white.

Jarot stood at his side, awe upon his face. His madness seemed to have been tempered by the sight of the monster. 'So this is what you have become,' he said softly. No one understood him, and no one had the time to ask him for his meaning. Under his breath he muttered, 'My son, my son, my son!'

'Harpoons!' Pelas shouted. 'Harpoons! Ready the harpoons!' Sink them deep into the monster's flesh! Bind him and haul him to the shore!'

The warships began to deftly encircle the place where the Serpent descended. The water still swirled and raged to fill the space left by the diving beast. Men rushed about the decks, shouting and cursing as they prepared to make their assault upon the monster.

The Serpent rose from the water, its cold eyes looking upon the ships almost with curiosity. This changed in a flash when Pelas, taking three leaping steps, hurled a great javelin through the air, piercing the monster just below the jaw. The harpoons were fired next, pinning great cords into the beast's scaly flesh. Some of these missiles glanced aside upon the tough skin of the Serpent, but others, passing between the scales, pierced soft flesh. Blood poured from the wounds and the monster shook with rage. The harpoons were bound with strong ropes to the ships, and as the monster flailed about the sailors could feel their ships reel and and rock. More harpoons shot into the beast, until there were sixteen ropes binding the Serpent to the fleet.

The Serpent, its eyes wide with terror, plunged beneath the surface, pulling hard at the ships. But the resistance was more than the beast seemed to have expected. It bobbed upon the surface of the water like a log.

'Fate shines upon us, men!' Pelas shouted. 'Nay! I call you not men, but heroes, every one of you!'

Bralohi began a cheer, and soon the whole fleet rang with the sound of praise. The Monster of the Sea was ensnared and entangled. Aboard the Dadiiron the mood was not any less elevated. Even Amro broke into a smile, marveling at the fact that Pelas could have succeeded so easily.

Cheru's celebrations nearly brought him over the edge of the deck into the swirling waters.

Oblis cheered, but it was clear that, for once, he had seen what others had not. 'Why the cheering?' he thought within his thick skull, 'The monster is not yet dead.'

This was noticed in greater detail by Ghastin and Dalia, who had been eyeing the celebrations with suspicion. Neither of them had it within them to clap and holler the praises of Pelas, Ghastin because he cared for no one save his own close kin, and Dalia because her separation from her beloved hung upon her like a storm cloud, always darkening the sky under which she stood.

Ghastin shook his head, 'If ever there was a proof that the gods care not for us, it is this!'

'What is "this?"' Dalia asked, 'For "this" admits of many interpretations.'

Ghastin smirked, 'True enough. This joy. This reveling. If there were gods, would they truly shine upon Pelas of all men? I still remember-' he stopped speaking abruptly, realizing that Dalia did not know that her mother had been taken to Ilvas as little better than a captive.

'What is it?' she asked. 'What do you remember?' She was suddenly as interested in her kinsman as she was in the hulking sea monster that was yet tethered to their ship.

'Nothing. Forget about it Dalele.' He turned away from her and leaned miserably over the railing.

'Ghastin,' she began, but when she saw his furrowed brow and sorrowful eyes she cut her words short. She looked out into the water.

There, just more than a bowshot away she saw a great spike crest the surface of the water. 'No, there can't be more of them!' she said in disbelief. But as she looked out over the water she saw that it was not a new monster, but simply the hindquarters of the very Serpent Pelas now strove against. She watched in disbelief as the great Serpent's body passed beneath the Dadiiron, its tall spikes barely missing the hull as it passed. The great length of its body was beyond anything she could have imagined. Though the Serpent cut through the water faster than any boat it still took more than a minute for the very end of the beast to vanish beneath the hull.

'Ghastin!' she screamed.

'What is it Dalele?' Ghastin said, looking at her with frustration.

'The Serpent! It is bigger than we could have dreamed. It will drag us all to the darkest depths!'

Ghastin looked into the water and beheld the Serpents gigantic body coiling beneath its head as it prepared to use all of its might to bury itself beneath the waves. It was smart enough at least, it seemed, to know that the deep water was safe from its assailants.

'Cut the ropes!' Dalia cried out, as if she now commanded the Dadiiron and Fatewind alike. 'Sever the ties to the Serpent! Release it! It is about to dive!'

'Madness!' Falruvis thundered, 'Stupid woman! Get below; this fleet is not yours to command. You sow discord! You cannot-'

Falrvuis stopped in mid-sentence as he too became aware of the monster's intentions. 'Cut the lines!' he bellowed, abandoning his pride in an effort to retain his very life. In an instant the Dadiiron's cords were severed and the ship was free of the monster. Falruvis then turned his ship about and, circling the Serpent, began to warn the other captains. Some obeyed without delay while others looked to Pelas for their orders. Soon all but Pelas' own ship were cut free. The Fatewind alone remained bound to the Serpent, its crew torn between the ire of their captain and the ire of the beast.

'What can we do?' Dalia asked Ghastin fearfully.

'Rejoice, Dalele, like all the others,' Ghastin answered.

'But the Fatewind!' she said, shaking her head.

'There is nothing to be done,' he replied. 'We would sooner slay the monster with our teeth than make Lord Pelas see reason.'

'But if we do nothing he will be brought down with the monster!'

Ghastin made no response, either in word or in expression. Dalia took it to mean that he thought it would be just as well if things happened as she had said. As they spoke, the Dadiiron drew up alongside the Fatewind. Ghastin growled and cursed, grabbing from the deck a harpoon and line. He threw the harpoon from the Dadiiron to the Fatewind, lodging the spike into the center of the deck, much to the surprise of its crew. He then leaped from the Dadiiron and swung over to the Fatewind, rappelling up the starboard side of its hull. Not knowing his intentions, Bralohi quickly helped him over the bulwark and onto the deck. 'What is it, Ghastin? What is the meaning of this?'

Ghastin made no reply, but grabbed the sword from Bralohi's hilt and ran to the other side of the ship where the lines still bound the Fatewind to the Serpent. He cut three of them loose and cast the sword spiraling through the air to cut the ship free from its final cord.

Pelas leaped from the aft castle in a fury. 'How dare you?' he cried, bellowing as though Ghastin had slain his only child rather than merely cutting a few lengths of rope.

Before he could get his hands on Ghastin, Cheru and Oblis were present, pummeling him with all the hatred they could muster. It is a terror, they say, to be present when the patience of an immortal comes to an end. They beat his face until it was covered with blood, breaking his nose and cracking his ribs. In a moment Amro was there on the deck of the Fatewind, pulling them away from his brother with great anger. He threw Oblis against the bulwark where he crashed to the deck senselessly. Cheru drew his blade, but Amro slashed at it with his own sword, severing the sword with his dwarf-steel blade as though it were made of cheese. Cheru stared at him in a rage, but dared not fight him unarmed.

Amro immediately turned his full attention to Ghastin, checking his wounds and looking intently upon his injured face. Fury seemed to come over him in flashes, but he did not leave his brother's side.

'Pelas!' came the voice of Falruvis, flying over the water with great urgency. 'The Serpent dives, and we must flee!'

Pelas and his crew finally seemed to comprehend the reason behind Ghastin's deed as they watched the Serpent dive beneath the water with the strength of a thousand gods in his neck, and all the bulk of the earth following in his train. Spine after spine, each set nearly twenty feet apart, passed above the water and sank once more as the Serpent pushed itself into the deep places of the sea, where no mortal or immortal would dare to go. Bralohi marveled as he counted thirty-five spikes altogether. 'The beast must be the better part of a thousand feet long!' he whispered to himself, awestruck. 'It will take a fleet of five hundred ships to hold this monster at the surface.'

Trial

With a great effort of both will and skill, Pelas drew his fleet away from the Serpent. At its departure the sea grew still once again, and the storm vanished without a trace, almost as if it had, itself, been dragged into the depths with the Serpent. The sailors cheered and roared, shouting thanks and praise to the Dadiiron. But this was cut short when an order was given by Pelas to, 'Take the Dadiiron and its crew under your power, Bralohi!'

'My lord?' Bralohi said with horror in his voice.

'They have turned against me; for good or ill, such deeds cannot be tolerated upon the sea,' Pelas explained.

'But Lord Pelas-' Bralohi began, but Pelas cut him short with a wrathful glance.

'You have already questioned me,' he said shortly. 'Shall this continue perpetually, or will you learn to accept your master's reasons.

'There was a day when your life was in my hands,' Bralohi thought, but he said, 'Yes, my lord,' accepting that his master would not budge. He turned from Pelas and began giving orders to his men, to prepare a crew for boarding.

The Dadiiron gave no resistance; Ghastin was already bound and beaten. Amro made no protest, though none dared to actually put his arms in chains. Even Falruvis was put under guard and brought over the planks onto the Fatewind while Aebral was given command over his ship with a crew gleaned from the other ships. Every man, from Alsley the first mate of Falruvis down to the ship's cook, was placed in chains and locked away beneath the deck.

For three days they remained below, until Pelas was ready to oversea their trials. Dalia was brought before him first, while his rage was yet at its height. After three days in the black darkness below decks, the light of the noonday sun stung her eyes, blinding her. Pelas appeared radiant, seated before the aft castle with the sun shining on his white tunic. He looked to her prison darkened eyes like the god he would someday think himself to be. At his side sat Bralohi and, standing in rows, twelve armed guards. She was brought before him and forced to her knees. 'Remain silent,' she was told. After a while Pelas rose from his seat and took one purposeful step toward her.

'You understand,' he said coldly, 'that in war men must obey without fail. The whole endeavor is senseless if the captain cannot rely upon his servants to do as he wills. You think too highly of yourself, daughter of Dalta!'

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Pelas cut her off. 'Moreover, you did not merely dishonor and disobey a lord of Sunlan, but you also led others - even my whole fleet, to follow you in your rebellion. Were you a man, I would cut off your head where you kneel.' Dalia's face turned pale, but she made no reply; her thoughts seemed distant, though her peril was quite immanent.

'My lord,' Bralohi began, shifting in his seat.

Pelas turned struck Bralohi upon the cheek with the back of his hand, sending him to topple backwards over his chair. The elf rolled to his feet like a cat prepared to pounce, but he regained control of his passions. He touched his knee to the deck and said, 'Forgive me, my lord.'

Pelas looked around at the doubtful faces of his crew.

'Send her below!' Pelas bellowed. 'We will continue her trial on the morrow.'

The Good Servant

The ships sailed on through the night while Pelas and Bralohi held council with Aebral present and several other elf captains. Pelas' cabin was lit by three bright lanterns, each hanging above his table. Their light was steady, but the motions of the ship bent the shadows back and forth as the ocean demanded. On the table was a disordered jumble of papers, some of which were maps and charts, while others were various legal documents. Pelas brought their attention to the passages which spoke of the absolute authority of the ship's captain. 'You know the disorder that can come of a disobedient servant,' Pelas said. 'And you also know how magnified such disorder can become while at sea.'

'But my lord,' Bralohi said, not afraid of angering his master. It was generally, he was beginning to understand, when Pelas was questioned in public that his wrath would so violently manifest itself. In private he could at least explain himself. 'Truly the daughter of your servant Dalta has done well by you, saving not only your fleet, but your own ship and life. You understand this, my lord. How then can you condemn her - for would that not be to condemn your own soul to the depths?'

'It is true that she saved us all,' Pelas acknowledged. 'But such is the reasoning of every dissenter. Every man who turns upon his master does so because he judges his own counsel to be the greater. Where shall it end, Bralohi, save in perpetual license? Who shall then judge when a man must serve or when a man must make his own way?'

'But for what end all this obedience? Why should they obey?'

'I have said already, and I will only repeat myself once,' Pelas said impatiently. 'To allow this sort of rebellion, saying, "It is for the best," is to allow all rebellion. For men know only their own wills; how then shall they judge what is whim and what is heroic? No, the whole order of things depends upon the obedience of servants to their masters.'

'And the whole order of things depends, also, upon the survival of masters. Dalele might have obeyed, and even now we would be lost in the cavernous belly of the Serpent. Or she might have saved her own life, and been free of her master altogether. But she chose rebellion over that loss - she spared your life, for her master is of greater worth to her than her own reputation. Which is the more loyal servant? He who sacrifices his master and his mission for the sake of honor, or he who, sacrificing honor, saves master and mission alike?'

Pelas sat in silence for a moment as he considered Bralohi's words.

'Nonetheless,' he said, as he looked down at the pages on the table. 'Law is not law for being open to discussion and exception. She shall not die, for she is kin to lord Dalta, and a woman. But she shall not serve me either. This is the gift I shall give to her. She shall not be part of my crew, and she shall have no part in our victory - but I shall spare her life.'

The Servant's Rights

The next morning Dalia was brought once again before Lord Pelas, who was all the more impatient for presiding once again over the very same trial. Again the bright sun pained her eyes as she was escorted to Pelas' chair. He began to speak without waiting for her to regain her composure, and he spoke with no hint of feeling or emotion, as if what he said had been written already.

'Dalele, Dalta's daughter, like a comet your time has been, lighting the sky for your glory. But like a comet it burns too fast, and is gone as soon as it passes. You have usurped the power of your master, be your reasons what they may, and such a servant is no servant. As such I forbid you to serve aboard any ship that I command, or any ship that belongs to the kingdom of Sunlan or that is under the dominion of Ijjan. You shall be returned to Sunlan in safety, however, for the mercy of Lord Pelas is great and deep.'

At those words she made as though she might protest, but as she fully digested their meaning, her legs gave out and she fell to the deck in anguish of spirit. There was not a soul present who could look upon her without pity. 'Thuruvis!' she moaned beneath her hair and through her hands, clawing at her face in sorrow. 'Thuruvis!' she cried again, still hunched over, clutching her hair in her hands.

A whisper rose up among the witnesses, who had been called upon to watch the trial. 'The rights?' they asked, not realizing she had called the name of her lover, and not demanded justice.

'She calls for the rights?' another sailor marveled. Pelas turned to Bralohi, who was as amazed as the others.

'I cannot,' Pelas insisted.

'Yet you must, my lord,' Bralohi replied, liking it no more than his master. 'It is the law,' he said, not feeling it prudent or necessary to add, 'and the law is not law for being open to discussion and exception.'

'Send her below!' Pelas ordered again. 'Get her out of my sight!'

Her eyes had scarcely adapted to the light of day when she was plunged once again into darkness. She was brought back to the other prisoners and passed carefully into the arms of Amro, who had risen to meet her.

'What happened?' he asked, concerned with her quick return. 'It has not been half an hour since they took you.'

'Hush,' she said, waiting for the guard to close and lock the door. 'The rights! what are the rights?'

'What do you mean?' Amro asked bewildered. 'What rights? You don't mean - Dalele! You did not claim the rights of the Servant!?'

'Tell me,' Dalia said desperately.

'If you do not know, then I shall not tell you - not until we return to Sunlan.'

'Then I shall cast myself into the sea, if ever these bonds are removed from my hands,' she said without any insincerity. Amro looked around in the dark room frantically, as if he might, not being able to escape the cell, escape the conversation at least. At last he cursed, and looked straight into her eyes.

'The rights of the Servant,' he began, 'is an old code, scarcely remembered except among the sailors of the Knariss. From them it passed into the customs of the Sunlan elves. If a man is falsely accused, he can choose to submit to fifty lashes with a scourge.'

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. 'Why would-' she started, and then turned toward the door. She lifted her trembling hand to knock, but hesitated, turning again toward Amro. 'What happens after the scourging, Amro?'

'If,' he spoke slowly and with pleading, as if his tone by itself would deter her, 'IF,' he emphasized again, 'IF the servant lives, he is vindicated, even if he was guilty.'

She turned and pounded upon the door, calling out, this time in truth, 'The Rights! I demand the Rights!'
[Chapter VI:  
The Dark Order](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Thuruvis

Thuruvis awoke with a start, shielding his eyes against the blazing noonday sun. The clouds had parted and the sun had risen above the window curtain at the same instant, releasing the dazzling light of heaven in a torrent. It struck him right across the face, waking him from a deep sleep. He had spent the past week felling trees and chopping firewood, some of which he sold and some of which he kept for his own small stove.

His neighbors were still not used to seeing an elf perform such labor, nor were they yet fully comfortable with the idea that an elf would make his home in the Nook. They were too afraid of the elves to offer any real complaint, however. Looks of distrust, and fearful glances were all that they would dare offer against him. They greeted him with the title 'Lord' or 'Master', though he denied that he was entitled to any such honor. Indeed, he made a point to state explicitly that he was no lord. 'The last thing I need now is for the men of Centan to hear of an elf calling himself 'Lord' in the Nook,' he reasoned.

The Talon Mountain range was named for its appearance on the oldest map in Sunlan, where it was drawn, not as so many mountains, but as a great eagle's talon, reaching into Sunlan. The Talon belonged, legend said, to the Fire Bird, a great god that dwelt in the Utter North. The Talon Mountains seemed to reach down from the North as if it would catch up Sunlan into the sky like an owl snatching a mouse from the fields. Better maps lessened this impression among the educated, but the people of Sunlan - the humans I mean - were not educated. They clung fiercely to the notion that the mountains were somehow part of some grand divine being. The people of the Nook were no different, though they took a rather different perspective than most. For some people in Sunlan the Talon was seen as a god, a protector. But to those who dwelt at the root of the Esthalon River, where the Southeastern mountains and the Central Mountains parted, the Talon was symbolic of every bad turn of events. And their place in these events was called the Nook - so named because it was, again, on the old maps, the nook between the two talons. The word, though it was a name of their own invention, carried with it a great many implications. It was a word of division, of ill luck, of oppression - it was a word that signified 'lowliness' in every way possible. As the people used it, so the name spread, until all over Sunlan it was known that a sad and beaten down people dwelt in that land.

Every spring, as soon as the land was safe to be entered – few men entered the Nook during the winter - the warriors of Centan would ride north and receive tribute from the people of the Nook. Though the taxes were a heavy burden, the hardy people of the Nook would just shrug and say one to the other, 'The Talon squeezes its prey; what shall be done about it?' This was by and large their attitude toward Thuruvis, who had come to their lands just after the harvest with nothing more than the clothes on his back. The people were generous with him, though it was more out of fear than pity. He was an elf, and they knew that in due time he would bring hardship to the Nook, one way or another. This he denied as well. He insisted that he only meant to live there for a time, and that he would, for that time, have no dealings with the elves of Sunlan.

There was something more than the light that woke him, though, and it shook him to his soul. He was not superstitious by any stretch, but his mind turned immediately to his beloved. 'Dalele,' he whispered to the shadows. 'I was a fool to let you go in my stead.' Every day he changed his mind it seemed. Some days he thought he had done right, encouraging her and letting her take his place on Lord Pelas' expedition. Other days, like this particular day, he felt as though he would rather see her in the arms of another than see her come to harm. 'Dalta was right in challenging me; for I am not worthy of her.'

Today he would stack the wood that would hopefully carry him through the rest of the winter and bundle the rest to sell to others. Whether they had need of it or not, they would buy it. One could never have enough firewood in the Nook during the winter he was told. The cold wind seemed to slide down from the eastern mountains and the central, mixing and swirling in a frigid dance over the Nook. If you did not have a lot of wood to burn, the winter could very easily make an end of you.

They would buy it, he knew, but not for a great price. Money was as scarce as good cheer in this place.

It was a fitting place for an exiled elf. 'An exiled elf awaiting ill news,' he said bitterly. Today it had been a mistake to let her go. He could not have known that at that very moment, deep in the hot south, Dalia was being scourged by a merciless Knariss sailor. If he could have known it, he would have left that moment and found a ship that would sail to Dominas. And if no ship would sail thence, he would compel one to do so. But he did not know; though he felt his beloved's peril more than usual.

News

He shut the door of his cabin slowly, gently lifting it on its hinges as he slid it into its place. It was an old house; three generations of one mortal family had dwelt there before him. He had learned all the tricks that such dwellings required. He knew that the front door must be lifted slightly before it would fit its frame, he knew that he must shake the windows back and forth before he could open them - not that he had much need to do so during the winter.

But every time he began to think that he understood the ways of these mortal men and women he would find some new oddity. Just a week prior he had learned that Iulan, a boy of no more than seventeen years, had married the daughter of Uston, a girl no more than fifteen years old. Among the elves it was common for men to wait more than three hundred years to marry, even when they had already known who it was they intended to marry. There was another young coupling, he recalled, Anana and Ulo, who had just born their second child, though neither of them had reached their twentieth year. The elves might live the better part of a millennium before bearing children.

It seemed obvious enough to him that this was due to their short lives. Rabbits and mice bear offspring even faster than humans, he knew. Humans were so like unto elves - yet so different at the same time. Still, it was one thing to know the reasons for a thing, and another to understand them. All the passion he felt toward Dalia seemed like a candle before the intensity felt among these people. Two weeks ago a man had broken his neighbor's nose for speaking to his daughter out of turn. He smiled as he thought about it; such a feud might last half a century among the elves, before it was settled.

The long-suffering of the elves was not altogether a blessing, he knew. It put them at a disadvantage when they were forced to defend their rule against mortal rebels. The white hot will of a man bound to die within a span of sixty years was nothing to be trifled with. An elf might practice a trade for as long and still bear no shame in calling himself an apprentice. But these men, doomed to die, did not have time to let their anger stew. There was nothing like this among the elves, though, Thuruvis thought, there was also nothing among the mortals like the Fateful spirit of Lord Pelas and his servants, whose plots and plans encompassed centuries.

Clouds soon passed over the sun, shutting out what little warmth its bright glow had provided. The land darkened, the colors fled. 'A fitting scene for labor,' the elf thought as he picked up his ax and walked toward the wood-pile. He split wood for nearly an hour before deciding he had enough for a cartload. But he must first get a donkey to pull the cart.

Uston, who lived less than a mile from him, had offered to lend him his own donkey so long as he got a portion of the firewood at no cost.

Wiping the freezing sweat from his brow, he pulled his cloak tight around his body and started down the Snake Road, so named for the way it bent and curved as it wound down the mountain toward the River. The people of the Nook had no other name for this stream, and the elves of Sunlan had never troubled themselves to name all the tributaries of the Esthalon. 'If ever I return to Sunlan I will name it the Nook River,' he laughed within himself, 'That should please their historians and sages,' he said sarcastically.

The Snake Road was not an easy road; sometimes it seemed to cascade down the mountain like a waterfall more than carve its way through the land. A cart could be brought up and down along it only by a donkey - a donkey with a good strong man to guide it. Thuruvis had made such trips before, delivering firewood to his neighbors down the mountain and bringing the cart back to his house before once more leading the donkey to Uston's house. It was the last part of this routine that he most resented. The donkey, he learned, had belonged to the house's old masters, and the donkey knew it. He could bring the donkey from the top of the hill to the bottom without difficulty, so long as the beast knew he was at work. But the moment he was relieved of the weight of the cart, he would plant his hooves and refuse to return to Uston. Uston was not a cruel man, Thuruvis knew, and the donkey certainly had a better life on his property than he would have with him. But the beast remembered something about the place, and would only return to his new master with a great deal of coaxing, prodding, whipping and cursing.

'Someone was looking for yeh!' shouted Uston as he left his house. He started toward the road, but then hesitated. He was an old man with no more than ten teeth in his mouth and a long gray beard that reached almost to his worn leather belt. Such features were never seen on elves; this was another thing Thuruvis had to get used to. He ran around the house and returned instantly with Borse, the donkey, tied to a strong rope.

'Who?' Thuruvis asked, drawing close enough to receive the beast. He patted the animal gently and gripped the rope firmly. Borse had a habit of running away the moment he realized the rope that bound him was not secure. He would not run far, though. It was just something he liked to do. Thuruvis shook his head at the stubborn animal.

'I don't know,' Uston said. 'It was one of the king's men,' he said. The people of the Nook called all elves 'king's men,' regardless of their station. They also assumed that they all knew one another, and were all of one kindred.

Thuruvis' heart sunk at the news. 'This cannot be good,' he thought. He had told only Onroa the healer where he would be going, and the man had agreed only to reveal his whereabouts if the circumstances were desperate. He could not imagine what would have induced the elf to come find him here. For a moment he felt panic overtake him, thinking perhaps that some news had come regarding Lord Pelas and his fleet. Driving the thought from his mind, he looked again at Uston. 'What did you say to him?'

'I said I did not know such a one,' Uston grinned toothlessly. 'He didn't like me much, I think. He said if I heard anything to send you to Mara's.

'He is staying at the inn, then? I mean, at the travel house?'

'Umhumph,' Uston grunted in affirmation.

'Maybe I'll stop by Mara's then,' he said, leaving the old man with his curiosity unsated.

'And don't forget to drop a few bundles of wood my way, master elf,' Uston reminded him.

Thuruvis nodded and took the donkey back toward the path. The man was vile by the standards of the elves, but Thuruvis could not think of any of the Immortals who were truer friends to him than this man. It was not as though they were close by any account. They scarcely spoke one to the other. But among the elves Thuruvis had not known any man to be as thoughtful as these mortals. There were no grand ambitions and cunning designs rattling about in their skulls.

Thuruvis returned his attention to his work, leading the donkey with a firm hand up to his house.

It was not until he had passed Uston's house for the second time, this time with a cartful of lumber, that he began to think on what Uston had said. The sight of the house brought the old man's raspy voice to his mind. 'He is staying at Mara's?' Thuruvis asked himself. 'This means he must have some ground for expecting me to be here.' He thought, then, that it must be Onroa who sought him. 'But how could the healer get away from Centan, when every other day a soldier breaks his fist or foot during training?' He considered for a moment whether he ought to just forget the whole thing and continue with his route. Then the thought came to him, 'Why didn't they come to my house?' If they had gone as far up the hill as Uston's, why should they not walk another half-mile to the Head of the Snake Road?

He made his first delivery to an old widow named Abela, whose husband had died nearly twenty years ago. As he approached her cabin he noticed a pair of greedy eyes peering out through her curtains. He was of half a mind to pass her by, but if he did not leave the wood, she would chop some herself. He could not bare even the thought of letting the old woman do such work. He led the donkey off the road toward her door. He took as much wood as he could carry and laid it near her front door. The moment he rose from placing the lumber, the door creaked open. The widow Abela stood in the doorframe with a starved expression on her face.

'Good afternoon, Abela,' he said with a polite bow.

She smiled and cackled at his gesture, and then waved her arms, saying, 'Come in, come in!'

Trying to sound as polite as possible, he said, 'No, I had a late beginning today, and I still have to bring the donkey back to Uston before sunset.'

She sighed, 'Oh he should just give you that stupid donkey; he likes you better anyway.'

Thuruvis smiled. 'I don't think Borse likes anybody.'

She seemed to find this even funnier than his bow. When her laughter had subsided, she asked in a more serious tone, 'Did you meet your friend?'

'My friend?' he asked.

'There was a King's-man looking for you earlier,' she answered. 'I told him that you lived at the Head of the Snake.'

'You told him where I lived?' he asked, surprised.

Abela looked terrified, as if she just realized she had made a terrible mistake. 'I am sorry, my lord,' she began, remembering that this man newly come to live in the Nook was an elf. 'I just thought-'

'It is alright,' Thuruvis said, trying to comfort her. Whatever this visitor intended, and whatever would come to pass, there was no need, he thought, for his neighbors to feel guilty about speaking the truth in innocence. 'I believe it probably is a friend,' he fibbed.

'He said that he was to be staying at Mara's,' Abela added, now sounding as serious as the grave.

'I thank you,' Thuruvis said, pleasing her with another stiff bow. 'Now I must see to my work.'

With those words he left her, returning to the road to continue with his deliveries, a hot berry pie in his left hand for his wages.

The sun was already beginning to set by the time he made his last delivery. It was just another mile to Mara's, but he still had Borse and an empty cart. Whoever it was that sought him would have to wait. If it were urgent enough Thuruvis was certain they would have come to him at his house, and not simply passed him an invitation through his simple neighbors. It was not Onroa, he felt sure. The healer would not have come unless it were urgent, and if it were urgent he would have come straight to the Serpent's Head to find him. He could not imagine who else might be searching for him. He turned Borse and the cart toward the Serpent's Head and made his way back up the mountain.

It was dark by the time he reached Uston's house. The old man took Borse by ropes and dragged him back to his stable. 'Come on you devil!' he shouted, 'I'll beat you till tomorrow morning if you keep at this foolishness!' He said a great many other things, curses, oaths and threats, until at last the beast was tied up and fed.

Thuruvis dropped two bundles of wood on his doorstep and turned toward the road. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed. The cold air filled his lungs and rushed up beneath his shirt, making him shiver. With the prospect of a warm fire and a soft bed before him he all but forgot that there was a strange elf searching for him.

Uston, returning from the stable with a sheepish grin on his wrinkled face, reminded him. 'Did you find the King's man?' he asked hopefully.

'No,' Thuruvis said, torn between his exhaustion and his curiosity.

When he gave no further response, Uston came closer and said, almost in a whisper, 'He came by again.'

'When?' Thuruvis asked with a hint of alarm in his voice.

'Not more than an hour ago,' Uston replied cautiously. He didn't come to the house, but I saw him down the road a ways. When Ames, my eldest, saw him, he turned and marched straight on back to Mara's.'

'If he wants to find me so badly, why doesn't he just come to the Head?' Thuruvis asked, half to himself.

'I don't know,' Uston puzzled, scratching his balding head. 'But if he meant you ill, he wouldn't ask so many people, and he wouldn't tell you where to find him.'

'That is true enough,' Thuruvis said thoughtfully. As he said this he saw three sets of curious eyes peering from within Uston's house.

Uston grinned. 'The whole lot of them are riled up; they want to know why the elves have come to the Nook.'

'Maybe I should see this King's man after all,' the elf sighed.

'Best of fortune to ya,' Uston said to him soberly.

Thuruvis thanked him and then turned his tired feet back toward the road. 'At least it is downhill to Mara's,' he thought to himself resignedly.

At Mara's

Mara's house was the closest thing to an inn that one might hope to find in the Nook. It was really just a really large house. It was built nearly a hundred years ago by a rich merchant who had hoped to establish a business in the region. But the hardships of the land proved too much for his ambitions, and he abandoned the place.

Properly speaking, the land still belonged to him - or to his descendants rather. But the man never returned to the Nook, nor had any sons or grandsons ever come to manage the estate. Eventually the elders decided that the building ought to be used for something rather than merely occupying perfectly good farmland. Many proposals were brought forward at that time, but the widow Mara had her husband's gold to support her plans. She bought the land, rented out the farm, and opened up an inn. There were only four rooms to rent (the fifth was her own), but only once had they all been filled at the same time. What remained of her husband's gold, together with a share of the land's crops, was enough to support her in the lean times.

Mara's was a tall building compared to the simple houses that one would usually find in the Nook. It was almost as tall as it was wide and long, making it look like a big wooden box with windows. There was a tall stairwell leading up to a wooden door on the southern face of the house. The stairs rose half-way up the building so that the door entered into the second floor of the inn. The first floor acted as a cellar.

In Centan an inn such as this would be filled with the sound of laughter or music, but here the loudest cry came from the cold mountain wind. What noise there was within ceased the moment Thuruvis entered the nearly empty dining hall. It was only on festival days that Mara expected more than the town drunkards to enter her inn. She never would have expected to see Thuruvis enter her house were it not for the fact that her only guest was this strange elf everyone had been gossiping about. Her dark eyes lifted from the mug she was polishing and fixed themselves expectantly upon Thuruvis. 'Mara,' he said with a polite nod.

'Master Thuruvis,' she said with a hint of a curtsy. Thuruvis had given up the hope that the people would learn that he was no Master or lord. To the men and women of the Nook, all elves were King's men, and the king was their master, though he had not ever troubled them or aided them.

Mara was a strong woman with thick features. She handled most of her stock herself, relying upon her servant Olin only where one person alone, be they man or woman, would not be strong enough for the burden.

'I trust it's him you've come for,' she said pointing out a dark hooded figure sitting in the corner of the dining hall. The dark form did not look up, though he certainly must have been aware of Thuruvis' arrival. He continued to sit as though he were made of stone, only the gentle rising of his shoulders betraying the fact that he was a living breathing soul and not a man carved out of stone. At Thuruvis' approach, however, he seemed to grow uneasy.

'You are not Onroa?' Thuruvis said as he approached. 'Yet I bid him tell no man where I had gone. How then can any citizen of Sunlan find me, an elf of no regard, in the Nook of all places?'

'You should not feel disappointed in the healer,' a cold voice replied. 'He kept the secret well, but you cannot expect him to conceal such a matter from me.' The elf tossed back his cloak, revealing a head of long black hair and piercing dark eyes. Dark hair, as I have mentioned, was very rare among the elves.

Thuruvis gasped, reaching for his sword before realizing that he no longer wore his weapon. The people of the Nook were not warriors, and they were greatly alarmed when first he arrived in their land with a sword tied to his belt. His first attempts at commerce had gone awry due to the fact that the people with whom he would do business were terrified by the weapon. He had given up wearing it because they seemed to think they were being robbed when he meant to trade with them.

'Dalta,' he said coldly, omitting the title of lord.

'I have not come to trouble you,' his old master said calmly. He paused for almost a minute, uneasily searching for the right words. 'I did not know the depth of my daughter's love for you,' he said, fighting back emotion. 'I drove her to it - I drove her to run away with Lord Pelas on his fool quest.'

Thuruvis said nothing. The last person he expected to find at Mara's inn was lord Dalta. If the elf had wanted to locate him, he might have sent any of his servants to do the job.

'Why have you come yourself, and not a servant?' Thuruvis asked, crossing his arms doubtfully. 'If you have not come to trouble me, then for what have you come? Just to visit?'

'I come because we have an interest in common,' Dalta said in a hushed voice.

'And you expect me to work for you? I finished my service in Onroa's apartments. By the time my wounds were healed, the time I was assigned to Centan had expired, according to the laws of Sunlan. I did not desert my post, and you have no claim upon me. Unless you obey different laws than those of Ijjan.'

'I cannot order you,' Dalta confirmed, 'at least, I cannot without the leave of my 'masters'.' He said that last word almost mockingly. 'We both care for her. I do not expect that you would ever find it within you to forgive - and for that reason I offer no apology. But if you are half the man I suspect you are, you will find it within yourself to cooperate.'

'What are you saying,' Thuruvis said frustratedly. 'You words dance around like firelight.'

'Dalele is in great peril,' Dalta said soberly.

'What!?' Thuruvis said, drawing close to Dalta quickly and bringing his voice to a whisper. 'Have you heard anything of the expedition? Has something happened to her. If one hair upon her head has been harmed I swear by everything good and evil that I shall-'

'That will not be necessary,' Dalta said calmly, but with sorrow upon his face. 'If anything happens to her I shall not need you to take my life away.'

Thuruvis looked at him with amazement. His anger was such that he could not accept that the elf had truly changed his mind. With all the trouble Dalta's pride had caused for both he and Dalia, however, he really didn't care how much his former master had changed. 'It is a pity you didn't care so much in the first place; then we needn't worry at all for her safety.'

Dalta rose from his seat in anger, grabbing Thuruvis by the cloak and pulling his face toward his own. 'I cared for her more than you know,' he spat. His dark eyes darted around the room. There were not a lot of people there, but each of them were now looking their way. 'I wanted the best for her!' he said through gritted teeth.

Thuruvis pushed him away and hissed, 'If I had brought my sword with me I would challenge you right here, in this very room. And I would not hold back for your honor's sake this time.'

Dalta sank back into his chair rubbing his forehead with his knuckle. 'Forget it,' he said with a weary voice. 'It doesn't matter. None of that matters; she is in peril. If either of us would pretend to care for her, then we must act, act together, and act now.'

'What are you saying,' Thuruvis hissed.

'The Dark Order,' Dalta replied his eyes full of intensity.

'You are going to have to start at the beginning; I have never even heard of such a thing.'

Dalta closed his eyes and nodded slightly. 'The Dark Order was given by Lord Agonas before the Fleet of Pelas departed. It is called so because it was given by Agonas, the dark son of Parganas, and because it was given in secret. Lord Pelas himself knows nothing of it, though it was in truth given for his sake.'

'What was the order?' Thuruvis asked.

'Do not ask this question lightly,' Dalta said, raising his eyebrows. 'To know is to decide, one way or the other, to know is to choose between life and death.'

'Speak on,' Thuruvis said, 'If I must know in order to help my Dalele, then speak on.'

'Do you know for what the elves came to Sunlan?' Dalta asked.

'Lord Pelas fled the jealousy of his father,' Thuruvis answered, as if there was no doubt that this was the case.

'It is as I had suspected,' Dalta said grimly. 'The newcomers have not been told.'

'Told what?' Thuruvis asked.

'We will have to start at the beginning,' Dalta said. He shifted in his chair as if in preparation for a long discourse.

'Lord Pelas came to Sunlan on a Doom Path,' he began.

Thuruvis lifted his head slightly with surprise.

'They did not tell us this in Lushlin,' he said, taking a chair at the table where Dalta sat. 'We were told only that he had been betrayed by Lord Parganas, and that Lohi and his servants were imperiled thereby.'

'You were imperiled,' Dalta affirmed. 'Lohi's sons were rebels against Alwan, and to gain the power to fulfill his path, Lord Pelas had need of them. First he joined them, but later he came to lead them.'

'But what of Agonas? Is he also on a Doom Path?' Thuruvis asked.

'Yes,' Dalta replied simply.

'What is their task?' Thuruvis asked.

Dalta paused for a moment, and then looked Thuruvis straight in the eyes. 'Their task is to take the throne of Sunlan for Lord Parganas.'

'Take Sunlan?' Thuruvis marveled. 'Lord Parganas himself could not do such a thing!'

'But if his sons expended all their powers - and make no mistake, their power is great - then it would be an easy thing for he who conquered the gods to march across the Esse and bring his dominion into the utter east, and from there, who can say?'

Thuruvis paused in thought for an instant, and then asked, 'There is but one throne in Sunlan. Yet two brothers vie for it together? Can this be?'

'I cannot say how it will end, any more than you,' Dalta shrugged. 'Agonas defers to his brother, treating him as the true lord over what was once the kingdom of Ilvas. But he is filled with the same fateful spirit, and even if he were content to allow Pelas the throne and the prize, Pelas would not suffer his rival to walk untroubled in his dominion. The two were rivals in the womb; do not think that they shall cease their strivings now. They shall be rivals unto the grave - be it the grave of one or both.'

'But whom do you serve?' Thuruvis asked doubtfully. 'I was led to believe that Lord Pelas was your master, but now you speak of a Dark Order, and Agonas.'

'I serve Dalta,' he said, speaking of himself, 'And Dalta serves the fair Ele and her daughter - my daughter, Dalele.'

'Then what concern is it of yours what happens to these two brothers? Let them drown, and be done with it.'

'Let it be even as you have said,' Dalta said. He paused, then explained, 'If they both perish we shall live our lives as Sunlanders, and see what Fate has in store for this great nation. If there were some way that I could ensure this result, I would not hesitate. But Fate bends for these men; I have never seen the like. We must bend with it, or we shall be stripped bare by the force of their destiny. They will return, and they will turn against Sunlan. If Pelas has his way it will be within the century; if Agonas has his will done, it will follow nigh upon the day of their return.'

'And this puts Dalele in danger?' Thuruvis asked, 'Such danger that I am expected to forget your role in our miseries and serve you once again.'

'If the sons of Parganas succeed in their plot, then all that is wedded to Sunlan shall pass away. If they fail, Sunlan shall see to it that all their servants are bound or slain.'

'Dalele,' Thuruvis whispered. 'What is the Dark Order?'

'Are you certain you wish to know?' Dalta asked once more.

'You know as well as I do that it is already too late for such concerns.' Thuruvis' face grew red with fury as he spoke, 'and you know that if I were not willing to risk all for her that I would not have let you humiliate me in the first place.'

Dalta nodded. 'The Dark Order is this: Muster the men of Ilvas; renew the pledges of Pelas' servants, and be prepared to strike at the throat of Ijjan and his power at a moment's notice.'

Thuruvis' eyes grew wide with astonishment. 'He means to overthrow Sunlan so soon?'

'I have already said as much,' Dalta affirmed.

'Is such a thing possible?'

'Much will depend upon their journey,' Dalta answered, 'If they return in glory and triumph, then it is quite possible. They will have gained the favor of Ijjan, much to his loss. But whatever happens, whether they return in defeat or victory, or whether they return at all, we must do what can be done for Dalele.'

Thuruvis emptied himself of all emotion. His mind became callous and calculating. He said, 'True, we must do what we can for Dalele.' A cruel grin twisted the corner of his mouth. 'But if Pelas and his brother do not return, then all that remains for me is revenge.'

Dalta's face grew white for an instant, but as he thought on it he seemed to accept it. 'I have no complaint against this,' he said. 'But if Dalele is lost, you will need to take your vengeance swiftly, for I shall take up your cause as well.'

'Let us be about our work then,' Thuruvis said, taking a deep breath. Dalta rose from his seat and extended his hand toward his old servant. It was a gesture of equality, such as the lords of the elves did not make toward their inferiors. Thuruvis stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he meant by it.

He took Dalta's arm by the elbow and Dalta gripped his own elbow. 'No longer are you my servant,' Dalta said.

'No longer,' Thuruvis affirmed.
[Chapter VII:  
Dalele Marinea](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

When Creatures strange assailed the fleet,

She shrunk not from a daring feat,

But with a fatal dwarf-steel spear,

Taught the water-born beasts to fear.

Folly As Teacher

'Now the Lord Elf shall summon the Aguians from the deeps,' Folly said, as Pelas' ships turned away from the sun and began their journey back to Grenost. It was with great reluctance that Lord Pelas agreed to return to their harbor, fearing that he had missed his chance to slay the great Serpent.

'But it wasn't a chance,' Bralohi encouraged him, with a hand on his shoulder. Pelas rarely accepted such treatment, seeing all signs of friendship or affection as weak and slavish. But with Bralohi alone he had a greater tolerance. He still remembered how it was Bralohi, first of all his servants, who had sworn fealty to his cause. 'The legends are false, my lord. The Serpent is at least twenty times larger than has been reported in myth. It is a reality worse than a fever dream, a folk tale more true than a sage's chronicle. Let us take counsel in Grenost, and see what can be done.'

'How shall he do this?' Death asked with no hint of genuine interest. Old Man Sleep just shook his head, seeming somewhat irritated that his brother Death was encouraging Folly. It was unlike him, Sleep thought, to say anything that might induce their brother to speak.

'He shall pull them on strings,' Folly laughed.

'Strings,' Death said, his voice so cold that it was unclear whether or not this was a question, or whether he simply meant it as an affirmation.

Old Man Sleep, however, looked at Folly with confusion.

'Surely you have been informed,' Folly laughed boastfully, his voice scarcely concealing his excitement, 'that the lord god Pelas is the center of the wheel around which all things spin.'

'Hush!' Sleep ordered quickly, 'Don't say such things, even in jest.'

'Come now,' Folly said, only losing his humor for a moment. 'It isn't false if I am false when I say it. How else could any man joke or tease, without lying before the heavens at every turn.

'Perhaps men oughtn't jest at all,' Sleep said somberly.

Death did not need to say anything to show his approval of this suggestion.

Folly just sighed, 'Well, you know as well as I that we three have traded freedom for holiness.'

'Now you call yourself holy?' Sleep said, his voice filled with exhaustion.

'Just continue your explanation,' Death commanded. The other two ceased their argument and returned their attention to Pelas.

Sleep whispered, 'Just do not speak of him as if he were a god; if only for my sake.'

Folly laughed, but agreed, saying, 'Very well; we are kin after all.'

'Let us take counsel,' Pelas growled beneath them. 'Let us take counsel with the fiery sun above and the cold moon too; none will bring us an answer. Let the gods take the Serpent! I am just a man.'

Bralohi looked at him in amazement; such fear he had not seen in his face since the two sons of Parganas wandered into the Swamp where he and his father's servants troubled the taxmen of Alwan.

'My lord,' he said, shaking his head, 'You forget who you are! You are the-'

'I know who I am, Bralohi,' he said fiercely, silencing his companion. 'I know better than you, I am certain.' With those words he turned toward his cabin.

Folly's face lit up with a toothy grin. 'Isn't that a thing to see!' he exclaimed. 'He turns the world verily, but he doubts it now - even as his own power summons the Sea People!'

Sleep groaned and asked, finally giving in to his brother. 'Wherein, oh Master Folly, does he summon the Deep Dwellers, when he neither knows of them, nor speaks to them.'

'He pulls upon them with the very strings of Fate! Watch, Watch, you shall see!'

'I do not wish to see,' Sleep said slowly, 'I cannot doubt your words, brother, for, as you said, we have sacrificed freedom for righteousness, and I know that you would not deceive me - at least, you would not do so permanently.'

'You ask "wherein", but what do you mean when you say it?' Folly asked. 'Do you mean to ask how he shall do it, or do you mean to ask for what purpose?'

'Since I have already said that he knows nothing of them,' Sleep replied wearily, 'I must mean the former, for he cannot purpose that which he knows not.'

'Then you are inquiring about the causes by which he shall summon them from the Sea floor?' Folly said happily. 'But why should we speak of causes, if we know not a cause.'

'More riddles?' Death said humorlessly. He turned a glance toward his brother that struck the glee from Folly's face for an instant.

'Nay, just give me a moment,' Folly said, his smile returning slowly, 'I was about to explain myself. How can we speak of causes, calling all of some group of things by the same name if we know not what that name means? I cannot speak of pigs unless I first know what is a pig. So what business have we speaking of causes if we know not what makes a cause a cause to begin with.'

'And you think that I, Death, know not what is a cause?' Death asked mirthlessly.

'Everyone knows what a cause is,' Folly said. 'At least, everyone who knows, knows.'

'Riddles!' Sleep protested.

Folly sighed, and quickly said, 'Those who possess knowledge know what is a cause.'

'Then what need have they of your lessons?' Sleep groaned.

'Not all they who possess knowledge know,' Folly retorted.

This time Old Man Sleep only shook his head tiredly.

Folly took this to mean that his audience was now ready for his explanation.

'What is it that all men say, whether they be of Sunland or Lapul, Alwan or dark Kharku? They say, nothing happens without a cause. Or they say, perhaps, everything that comes to pass happens for a reason. Now, a reason, we must acknowledge, belongs to men - but they say it of mountains as well as oxen, so, though they say variously 'reason' and 'cause', they do not mean that everything has a 'reason' in the sense we commonly mean 'reason' - this is a trick. They really mean cause with both words.'

'The work of Folly no doubt,' Sleep mused.

'No doubt,' Folly said, unperturbed. 'They say that everything that comes to pass has a cause, and nothing happens without a cause. But what happens then? For they certainly do not see everything happen, nor could they, nor could they be justified in speaking of everything that happens if they only witness the smallest portion of all that happens. So if they speak with such certainty concerning happenings and causes, then it must be within the very idea of happening that they draw their fierce certainty, and not from having seen all things. And if you have ever listened to a lecture in the Magic Tower as I have - or helped a man to write one, as I also have done - then you would know just how fiercely men believe in the connection between what happens and causes.

'So their belief is only sensible in light of the fact that it is in the very notion of happening that the idea of causes is to be found. It is not as though they made a tally of it, and found that things have causes. No, such an endeavor would be as impossible as it would be ambiguous.'

'You have said as much already, we are not schoolchildren that need to have everything repeated to them so that they can return every word by rote,' Sleep grumbled.

'Nor are you schoolchildren in the sense that one may slap your bottom for speaking out of turn!' Folly complained with a laugh. 'Now, consider what it means for a thing to happen, or to come to pass. If a thing is, it is not clear if it has come into existence, or if it has always existed. There are two ways in which a thing may come to be. It either is or is not; if it is, then it's becoming is simply a change. If it is not, then its coming to be is, while not a change in itself, a change in the state - for there must first have been a state where it was not in order for it to become. But in either case, whether it is or is not, it is in the change that we discover our inference.

'Change, you should understand-' Folly began to explain, but Death hissed.

'Do not presume to lecture me concerning change,' Death said. 'You make boasts, brother, saying that Sleep rules over men at night, and I rule over them only when they are no longer men - as if you were in possession of greater might and authority than your kinsmen. But mark it well, brother, that is is I, Death, who rules over every moment, for every moment passes away. I slay the infant, that the child may emerge, and I slay the beast, that the hunter may fill his belly. I slay the moment itself, that the new moment may come. In every change I am present, refuting the past with the present and the present with the future. For without the opposition, there is no change.'

Folly panted for a moment, as if he was out of breath. He shivered, and then ran his hand across his face. 'Brother you terrify even us gods!'

'Call us not gods!' Sleep thundered, suddenly roused. Folly laughed, and made to continue his explanation.

'The coming to be is a change, the change is a contradiction, contradiction has no being except in time. Time is the order of moments, and so coming to be is coming to be only in time. But in time, as it is not one moment, but many, the first and latter moments imply one another - for you cannot have a change without a first and last.'

'Speak plainly, brother,' Sleep insisted.

'Change requires two moments; the first of which is called the cause and the second the effect. But it is not merely the order that constitutes the passing from cause to effect, it is not as though Lord Pelas' sneeze is the cause of a tempest in dark Kharku! Nay, the two events are separate! But his sneeze is the cause of something, and the tempest, as something that comes to be, is the effect of something - they are just not cause and effect to one another. So one must not simply have a passing away and a coming to be, one must have a change in the thing - and not merely a change. The motions of Pelas' body are the causes of what his body comes to be, even as the motions of the wind in the hot south are cause to the tempest which comes into being.'

'You still have not explained wherein Lord Pelas pulls upon strings to summon the Sea People from the deeps,' Sleep objected. You have explained causes, which children understand, though perhaps in terms the Mages would be hard-pressed to comprehend; but you have not yet explained yourself.'

'You, oh Sleep, of all spirits,' Folly said, waving his finger at his brother, 'should be patient.'

Sleep shook his head, looking more exhausted than his brothers could have thought possible.

Folly continued undaunted, saying, 'What keeps Lord Pelas from drowning?'

'What?' Sleep asked, suddenly roused once again. 'What is it you are asking now?'

'I am asking you, brother, how it is that our dear Pelas has not fallen beneath the waves? If I were to hold a stone over the edge of the water, and release it, do you not doubt but that it would sink to the depths, hesitating only as long as it must ere the water parts for it?'

'I would expect this,' Sleep affirmed.

'What is the cause, then, for that which has come to be - that Pelas should ride upon the waves without doing the same? I mean, what is the cause that makes him float even as he now floats, and in the place he now floats.'

'He is on a ship, brother,' Sleep said perplexed.

'Ah, yes,' Folly laughed, 'of course, of course. But let us consider his circumstances more closely. He does not merely float upon the water's surface, he also skims the bottom of the heavens, as though he had already sunk to the bottom of an ocean of air. What is it, brothers, that keeps him beneath the starry skies above? Is it the boat also? You know, brothers, that all things would fall down toward the Root of the world if it were not for that upon which they stand. Dig a hole, be it ever so deep as you please, and you will find that where the dirt and stone of the earth has been moved away, things will sink still lower. The boat is in a similar circumstance. What draws the boat? Is it the boat itself, moving with will as though it were a man? Or is the cause that principle by which all things tend downward toward the Root?'

'I should say it is the principle, for it holds for all things, and not merely the boat.'

'Indeed,' Folly continued. 'But consider further, brethren, that Pelas is not a faceless man. When we speak of him, saying, Pelas, do we not mean that very person who stands in the boat beneath us?'

'Of course,' Sleep answered.

'But Pelas is downhearted as we speak, and he was not always. His anger and frustration came to be, but is it the boat that causes this? No, brothers, it is not. Yet when we say, Pelas sinks not, we mean THIS Pelas - the one with the sour face. So he has his cause in his mission, in his mood, in his upbringing, in his failure to slay the Serpent and more. So do you not see, brothers, that every circumstance conspires together to generate that which comes to be, and that which comes to be conspires with all else to bring forth what comes next. So it will not do, in any circumstance, to say that this thing causes that thing, as if they were things alone in the void of heaven, not touched by or affected by aught else. To speak of causes, not acknowledging the effect of the All, is to speak inadequately.'

'The All? I have heard that before, I think,' Sleep said with interest. 'Are you quite certain that you are not capable of error, brother?'

Folly snickered, 'Think on it brother; really think on it. See the ocean, vast as it is, it is what it is due to causes - as surely as the Fatewind is the work of the Knariss of Sunlan. If the land which contains it had a cavity, would not the water spill therein? And if it spilled, would it not, even if ever so slightly, be lowered, even as a jar that has sprung a leak empties itself through the hole? And if it is ever so slightly lower than it was, is it not then different, and will it not, then, carry Pelas' ship differently? So if Pelas' ship is to occupy the place it presently occupies, then mustn't there be no such a cavity, so that the Fatewind can occupy its current place and not the other - not the place it would occupy if the earth had a cavity through which the ocean might leak away?'

Sleep looked up suddenly, as if he finally realized that this whole endeavor had not been some long but ill-planned jest. Folly, seeing his sudden interest, grinned slyly.

'Now turn your attention to the Dadiiron, brothers,' Folly said, pointing his hand to the east, where the rest of Pelas' fleet fled the ever darkening eastern sky. 'Among the mortals of Bel Albor, brothers, I have frequently led inexperienced nursemaids to fill a child's bathwater to the brim. Can you guess what happens when the child is put in the tub?' He bellowed deeply, and for a moment it seemed as though he were not present with his brothers - indeed, even as he spoke he was present in every place where such a deed was being done. 'SPLASH!' He bellowed even louder.

Death breathed in through his nose, and his brothers grew pale.

Folly mastered his laughter and, closing his eyes as if to drive the thought from his mind, he continued, 'Now, what would happen to our ocean - and it has happened - if you were to add to it the weight of the Dadiiron? Would not the whole water be displaced, ever so slightly? And do you imagine that this would not, ever so slightly, affect the Fatewind? So it is not merely the Fatewind that keeps Pelas in place, but also the Dadiiron, the earth, the water, the wind - what else?'

'The All,' Sleep said comprehendingly. 'The All is the only cause.'

'Brother, you are getting ahead of our discourse,' Folly complained, crossing his arms.

'Why should we speak any more of the matter?' Sleep said. 'It is clear what follows; and I see that you are quite correct. It is not until All is considered that one can speak truly of causes. But still-'

Folly interrupted him, 'Still, we have not seen wherein Lord Pelas is the center of the wheel, turning all things.'

'Indeed,' Sleep said, sounding exhausted once again.

'It is simple,' Folly said, 'Remove Pelas, and you change everything; add him and you change everything. If everything is changed, then it is not what it is, but something else. But we are not seeking the causes of the Else, but of the Is. Pelas is the cause by which all things come to be, as they come to be - and what other being do they have?'

'You speak of Possibility?' Sleep said.

'Do not utter that name in my presence,' Death said coldly and with more authority than any spirit or god could have imagined. 'Finish your speech quickly brother,' Death commanded.

Folly hesitated for a moment, and then said quickly, 'There is a saying, "The drop that burst the bucket," but it is not that last drop that breaks the bucket, but every other drop with it.'

Lohi

Dalia did not speak for the rest of that voyage.

Her back, striped now with the deep, red wounds of her punishment, sent her into agony with every movement. Despite her pain, however, she did not shed a single tear. She alone, with the exception of Ghastin, shed no tears - her kinsman Amro shed tears of sadness, Bralohi shed tears of compassion, Pelas shed tears of admiration at the sight of her brave suffering.

'All things are forgiven; all things are forgotten, daughter,' Pelas had said to her when the scourging was finished. Never had a sailor, man or elf, seen one bear that punishment with more strength of will. Some, indeed, bore the pain almost with joy, defying their punisher by making a show of their rage and strength. But alone among such sufferers was Dalia, who bore it all without anger or bitterness - for before her eyes she only saw the suffering of her beloved, who had received wounds for her sake at the hand of her own father.

The pain kept her awake for nearly three whole days, and she could neither eat nor drink during that time. Lohi, the father of Bralohi and Kolohi, took upon himself the task of restoring her to health. He, more than most of the other elves, was skilled with medicine and healing.

All the while that he worked to bandage her wounds Ghastin stared at him as if he were ready to strike him down the first moment the healer's movements caused her any further pain than was necessary. His careful hand could not keep her from all discomfort, but in the end the work was done, and Lohi still breathed - and Ghastin breathed easily again. When at last Lohi put his hands in a basin of water and washed the blood away, Ghastin rose and departed from the room without a sound, as if at last he was satisfied that Lohi meant her no ill will.

After the fourth day she was able to sit up, though it hurt her immensely. Lohi fed her warm broth and sang her songs that had been written before the age of Parganas. 'It was not as it is now among the elves,' he explained. 'Our mothers were mortal, and doomed to die. So beautiful were they to our fathers that they forsook the heavens to dwell with them. But in a short time - nothing compared to the life of an immortal - the women grew old, and perished. The whole land was filled with death, and the elf fathers,' he paused when he saw her brow furrowed with confusion. 'The elf fathers,' he explained, were the first elves, the children of the mortals and the gods. I was one of these, as was Lord Parganas' father and mother, and many others besides. But we, the elf fathers, had to watch our mothers grow frail and die. The land was filled with mourning over their going, and the mourning turned into anger. The gods had left heaven for these women, but they slipped right through their hands. There was nothing they could do. They sought to bring them back into the heavens, but the gates were shut fast. There was really nothing that could have been done about it,' Lohi said, 'But we did not think so at the time. Our fathers thought that the gods had as good as murdered them, as if they had made them age and wrinkle as well as pass into the grave. It was an age of folly, of love, lust, courage, revenge and betrayal.' Dalia's eyes sparkled as she listened, fascinated at hearing things she had never before imagined.

The elves of Sunlan had broken away from Alwan, and for the most part their history agreed with the history of Parganas, though the records of Sunlan did not portray the King of Alwan in a favorable light. To the Sunlan elves, Parganas was something of an opportunist; they thought of him as one who steals the banner from the corpse of a hero and leads it the final three steps to a victory another had accomplished. But this was more true of their founder, who, emulating Parganas, recreated for Sunlan a history that made them seem like more than an offshoot of Alwan. Parganas wrote his histories to make his incredible deeds look righteous. But the elves of Sunlan wrote their history to make their ordinary deeds look incredible.

From Lohi Dalia learned a great many things about the world as it was ere the rise of Parganas - or at least, she learned some shadow of the world's true history. He also would talk for hours about different forms of government that had been proposed from time to time by various thinkers. Much to Dalia's surprise, much of his knowledge came from mortal writers.

'But are not the elves wiser than men, on account of their long lives and their many experiences?' she asked him, when her discomfort had lessened enough for her to speak.

Amro had seen to it that she be given the softest mattress on the ship, which was taken from Falruvis' own cabin. The elf, captain over the ship though he was, did not dare oppose him. A nod from Ghastin and a glance from his fierce dark eyes affirmed that he made the right choice in relinquishing his bedding.

She now lay beside Lohi, who was changing her bandages, with her cheek resting upon her forearm and her dark eyes staring up at him with a student's curiosity.

'The highest knowledge,' he answered, 'is to understand that knowledge is born of perspective. Many things are missed by us elves, whose experiences fail to reveal to us the little things, or the important things. A man who expects to live forever thinks in years or in decades. But when thirty seven years are given to you - sixty years at the most, every day, nay, every moment has more weight than Mount Vitiai itself.'

'I have never heard such speech before,' she said.

'It is hard to hear such things,' he said with a kind laugh, 'when you live betwixt Ijjan and Pelas.'

'What do you mean?' she asked, her dark eyes revealing honest confusion.

'Forget it,' he murmured as he gathered together her old bandages. He had spoken carelessly, he realized. It was not his nature to honor or respect those deemed kings by the rest of the elves. He had assumed that Dalia, kinswoman of Amro, would have shared his thoughts. 'But she is Dalta's daughter too,' he thought to himself, 'and he is not a natural rebel.' A chill ran down his back as he pondered what he had just done. For centuries his sons had, at his command, thwarted the labors of Lord Parganas' tax men. Dalta had fallen in with them in those days, and served them quite faithfully. But he was the sort that would have served the lord of Alwan if it had been Parganas who had come to him instead of Bralohi. Lohi knew that he could speak somewhat freely with Amro, who was loyal to Pelas, though perhaps not faithful - if my meaning is understood. Amro would tell no one what was said in secret, even if Lohi plotted against Pelas or Ijjan. It was only when Ele, Ghastin or Dalia were endangered that he sprung into action. He had seen some of Amro's independence in her already, insofar as she would not be deterred by her father's attempts to control her, and in her willingness to immerse herself in a world about which she had previously known nothing, and to travel to places few other mariners had gone. But she was born and raised in Ilvas, and refined in Sunlan - and she was not raised by Amro, but by his gentle relative Ele.

Ele was like the petals of a flower, which can be crushed by the gentlest of pressures. She wept over insults, though none were ever directed toward her. She once threw herself between Lord Pelas and his brother Agonas when she witnessed them quarreling.

Lohi looked at her innocent eyes. 'No,' he thought to himself, 'she is Amro's kin, and she can therefore muster what strength she needs for the task. But her nature is more like her mothers. Pity that this is a world which requires Ele to become like Amro!' The thought struck him, and he could find no means of considering it further than to simply say to himself, 'She is most like Ghastin in truth.' He shook his head and continued his tidying.

If Dalia understood what he had said, however, she gave no sign. She lay her head back on her forearm and sighed, closing her eyes with exhaustion. He would have to be more careful with his words. She was too tired to press him, but this would not always be the case. Lohi concerned himself with the welfare of those over whom Fate had placed him. But he was no sworn servant! He had fought upon Vitiai, and would not bow his head to anyone: man elf or god. But he would bow his head for his people.

At Grenost

By the time Lord Pelas had returned to Grenost, Dalia was up and walking again, howbeit with considerable discomfort. She insisted upon taking up some of her duties, though Ghastin and Amro made sure that she was not overworked. The sailors, mortal and immortal alike, marveled at her fortitude. 'A man would yet be whimpering in his bed,' Alsley said with amazement. It was in those days that men first began to sing songs and write lines of poetry about Dalele Marinea. But the extent of their affection for her was not yet at its peak. Twice more would Fate see fit to make her a hero.

From that day on no man ever treated Dalia as though she were 'merely' a woman. She soon grew to be as skilled as any other sailor, though perhaps not as strong of arm. But what she lacked in strength she made up for in dedication. Every hour of every day the name of her beloved was upon her lips, and however much she was forced to endure, she endured it all gladly.

Her scourging had left deep scars upon her shoulders, however, and there were many moments when tears would spring from her eyes at the thought of them. She did not believe that Thuruvis would think her uncomely for them - and that knowledge brought her some peace. But she knew that he would mourn for her sufferings, and that as long as he lived he would wish that he could have taken her place. 'Do not be sad for me, beloved,' she would whisper to him, vainly.

There were some who wished to grant her a life of luxury when the Fatewind and the Dadiiron made land. Amro and Ghastin certainly would have wished it, but they knew her purposes, and would not press the matter. Pelas had half a mind to marry her then and there; he seemed to have forgotten that it was his own order that had caused her to be flogged. When his intentions began to be rumored about she made a point to bare her arms so that the scars on her back could be more easily discerned. This seemed to remind the lord of the elves that there were yet many maidens remaining in Sunlan, any one of whom he might choose for his bride. For some reason Indra came to his mind, and he sighed as he remembered her beauty.

Though he was cured of his ill-considered intentions, Pelas came to regard Dalia quite highly. He bid her dine at his own table each night, and acted in every way as though they were comrades and equals. For the most part she disdained his company, but it would not do to endure all that she had hitherto endured only to anger he who would, should their voyage prove successful, be her rewarder.

Nearly two months after their return Pelas announced a great feast. He had recovered, it seemed, from his disappointment at having failed to slay the Serpent. Jarot the dark-skinned Snakil was constantly at his side, giving him both counsel and praise. The other elves seemed to dislike the man, but Lord Pelas found him amusing. He seemed to know more about the Serpent than any one else, and he seemed to know more about it every day, so Pelas was loath to send the man away. 'The beast is bound to you now, my lord,' he would say. If you sail out in force to challenge him, he will come to you, and Fate shall decide between you.'

Dalia awoke on the day of the feast with the bright sun shining on her face. It was a cool day, however, so she lay there for a long while without opening her eyes. The only change in the weather Grenost experienced was the occasional downpour of rain. Whether it was winter or spring, the sun beat down hard on that land. But this day the mighty sun gave the land a respite, permitting a cool breeze to blow across the settlement. Almost as soon as she sat up in her bed she was greeted by a servant girl, a Snakil woman by the name of Orix. 'My lady,' she said bowing low, 'today is the feast; we must begin our preparations.'

Dalia sighed. No doubt one of the elves had informed her that the high elves of Sunlan take all afternoon to prepare for a feast. She shook her head. 'What preparations must be made?' she asked.

'I have been commanded to take your lady-ship,' Orix seemed to struggle with the word, 'to the steam baths, and then we must prepare your hair, and your nails, your skin must be-'

'Think no more of it,' Dalia said. 'Who commanded all this?'

'Lord Falruvis,' she answered.

'No doubt he means well,' Dalia said thoughtfully. 'But I am a sailor here, not a lady at court. I will go to the baths, but not before I go to the smithy.'

'The smithy?' Orix said with great surprise. Her eyes were wide with amazement. Dalia also sensed some worry.

'Fear not, dear Orix,' she said with a smile. 'I promise you I will not get you in trouble.

With those words she rose and dressed herself, putting on a plain brown dress cut just above the knees with a sturdy black belt. She knelt for a moment to tie on her sandals before taking her sword from its place at her bedside. She held it up and looked at its keen edge.

Orix looked at it with wide eyes, probably fearing her mistress might decide to strike her down.

Dalia just sighed and returned the sword to its sheath.

It was a good blade, and it had more than served its purposes thus far. But it was a woman's blade, made as a last resort against brigands or rebels. It was not made for war; it was not made for the sort of deeds that might bring one wealth and glory. She sniffed at that thought. 'Pelas can have the glory,' she said to herself, 'I just want my own weight in gold.' She laughed when she saw the confusion upon her maidservant's face as the hearing of such words.

Dalia pushed the door wide open and started down the hall toward the entry hall. The Fortress of Grenost was built into the side of a small cliff that overlooked the harbor. Nearly the whole structure was made of wood, since the elves did not intend to make a permanent home in Dominas. The cliff wall was only three heights from the beach in one place. Here the elves built up an earthen ramp, leading up to the main hall of Grenost. There Pelas both dined and took counsel with his servants. There were long hallways running out from the northern and southern ends of the main hall. These hallways led to the apartments where Pelas' servants dwelt. Dalia's apartment was one door shy of being the very last door in the hallway.

Amro insisted upon taking the last room, so that he might be the first to face any danger that might come to the fortress from that direction.

Ghastin took the next room after Dalia, probably to make sure that none of Pelas' servants dared to approach her room. On two occasions he had found Cheru attempting to charm her with stories about his many battles. 'Battles?' he had laughed the second time he witnessed this, 'It must be a battle every time you have to remember your own name.'

Dalia made her way swiftly southward toward the main hall.

Orix hurried to keep up with her. To the Snakil, who took the elves to be something akin to the divine, her strange behavior was not merely whimsical, but mysterious. She entered the hall, which was already being prepared for the night's feast. A long, low table was being placed before Pelas' seat, and cushions were being carried in by dark Snakilmen, each of whom was clothed in brightly painted animal skins.

'You see, my lady,' Orix said frantically, 'They are already preparing the feast; now we must get about preparing the lady.'

'I am no lady,' she said to Orix. Dalia had already attempted to relieve her maidservant of her superstitious regard for the elves. But her attempts had only ended with Orix in tears, thinking that she had somehow wronged her new mistress. 'I am a sailor; and a warrior, and I must be about the business of warriors,' she had said.

Orix followed silently with her head lowered so that she did not stand higher than the elves. The Snakil were, almost to a man, taller than the elves; some of the tallest standing well over seven feet high. The women were, as it is with all races, somewhat shorter, but not so much that it was not obvious to any onlooker which of the two women entering the main hall were the larger. But Orix' self-deprecations had the effect of making the elf all the more stunning to behold, even in her plain clothes. The workmen stopped and stared, amazed both at the paleness of her complexion as well as the nobility of her walk. No amount of time at sea, and no hardship could drive from the elves the refinements that long years of training had instilled within them. Once they were grown, they were noble, and all men would recognize it on sight, even if they recognized no other difference.

She made her way from the main hall down the ramp toward the harbor. Amro would already be in the smithy overseeing the production of whatever the elves might need for their ships.

The sound of a hammer clanging on metal arose from the smithy as Dalia and her maidservant approached. Amro was apparently not preparing for the feast either. When she entered the smithy she saw him already covered in sweat, flattening out a red hot piece of iron with a great hammer.

'Aren't you supposed to be preparing for the feast?' he said, without turning to look at her.

'Dear uncle,' she said, trying to suppress her amusement, 'however did you know that it was I who approached you?'

'I smelled you,' he answered without any hesitation.

'Do I smell that bad?' she asked, suddenly feeling very foolish. 'Perhaps I shall go to the bath house after all.'

'It is quite the opposite, Dalele,' he said confidently. 'Most of the people here do not even know what a bath house is; even the smell of day-old soap stands out among such folk.'

'We don't get to smell much soap in here especially!' added one of Amro's workers.

Amro looked at Dalia for a moment, taking in her dress and her frightened servant. 'What are you here for, Dalele?' he said with a kind voice.

'I am here because I need a sword,' she answered.

'You have a sword,' he replied almost before she had ended speaking. Something about his tone seemed to say, 'That is all I have to say.'

'You are a true artist, uncle,' she said. It was easy to tell from her voice that she was on the edge of laughter. 'I am not disappointed with what you have given me already. A lady's sword such as no lady, mortal or immortal, has ever possessed. I cannot resent such a gift. But it is, for all that, a lady's sword, meant as a last resort against assassins and the like. Who can tell what we shall face, though, either on land or at sea.'

'You call it a lady's sword,' Amro said. 'But what would you have me make for you? A man's sword? Are you a man, Dalele?'

'I am a mariner,' she answered, 'I did not choose it; I did not want it; I would leave it all in a heartbeat if only I could be flown by the wind back to the side of my beloved. But nonetheless, here I am, a sailor and a warrior - but I have not a warrior's weapon. If the Fireships of Lapul come against us, or if one of the warring clans of the Snakil assail our fortress, what shall I do? Shall I fight every battle with my dwarf-steel dagger?'

'It is not a dagger!' Amro bellowed, this time he actually did begin speaking before she had ended.

'But neither is it quite a sword,' she protested.

'Do you know what you ask?' Amro said, pausing from his work as he argued with her. 'It is no easy task to make a sword – not for me.'

'You make swords day after day, and every other man bears a blade made by Amro and made for war.'

'Those swords I make for mortal men, and they are good blades, good for protecting their lives - to the extent that their mortal lives need protecting. In the end, no sword or spear, word, proverb or magic spell shall preserve what must pass away. There are precious few souls that I care for; and I will not give you a sword such as I give to others. Your sword is sufficient to preserve your life against any other sword, save perhaps that of Pelas and his brother.'

'And Ghastin's sword, and your own, and your axe,' she added to the list. 'And Falruvis, Bralohi and all the rest of the high elves.'

'Do you need to best any of these in combat, Dalele?' Amro asked with irritation.

'I have already dueled one high elf,' she said, referring to her contest with Dalta, her father. 'How should I know what the future may bring to me? I am not asking for a sword with which I might, at the very final moment, defend my own life. I did not sail all these leagues to preserve my life, but to win my weight in gold.'

Amro sniffed, a tiny smile breaking his lips. As angry as he felt, he could not get used to her speaking like that.

Orix looked horrified; she apparently did not know what to make of her mistress' lust for wealth. 'To hear you speak like that I would almost think you really did just want the gold.'

'Gold is as worthless as dung except insofar as it is a means,' Dalia replied.

Orix did not seem to understand what she was saying at all.

'Be gone from here, Dalele, I am sorry. I have enough work as it is; to make a sword worthy of you would take even me a month, and that is only after I acquired the right kind of steel. That, I assure you, is not easy to come by in Grenost.'

'You cannot think that I will believe that you have none with you, uncle,' she said, disdainfully.

Amro said nothing more, but returned to his work. It was clear to Dalele that the conversation had ended. Amro was jealous of dwarf-steel, and refused to use up the last of it until a new supply was firmly in hand. And he was too jealous to leave it behind in Sunlan.

'Well,' she said turning toward Orix and trying to hide her welling tears, 'To the baths.'

The Feast

The reason of the feast remained a mystery to the elves, and remains a mystery even to this day. There was no victory to be celebrated, no anniversary to be marked, no alliance to be sealed and no accomplishment to be praised. But nonetheless Lord Pelas poured gold out freely into the hands of the Snakil to make it a memorable night. The best explanation that has come to my ears is simply that he threw the feast in defiance of his failure, to show Fate that her attempts to rob him of his due had not shaken him.

It was a cool night; an almost chill wind had passed over the land from the sea, entering into the fortress of Grenost like cold fingers. But there were bright fires burning in the main hall, keeping the guests warm and sending great pillars of smoke rising into the starry night sky. Every high elf, with the exception of Ghastin (if it is proper to recon him among their number – he certainly did not recon himself so), was present at Pelas' table.

Pelas sat on a great seat at the head of the table with Jarot seated on his left side. Bralohi sat to his right. Aside from these arrangements, the elves sat where they wished and spoke to whom they wished. Kolohi sat beside Sol, no doubt comparing thoughts on the ways of mortal men. Amro sat beside Dalia, to separate her from Cheru, who had first taken the seat beside her, no doubt hoping to take advantage of Ghastin's absence.

There were dancers and musicians, storytellers and magicians, all hired from among the Snakil. There were strange furs and strong dark arms in every corner of the hall, as the Snakil labored to entertain Pelas' guests. There was a man who demonstrated the courage of the Snakil by swallowing a live serpent. Jarot rose from his seat and cheered when the last part of the serpent's tail vanished between the performer's teeth. The elves were amazed, and cheered the Snakil on generously.

Amro was silent for most of the night, nodding respectfully when the Snakil did anything that was truly unique or impressive. But otherwise he just sat quietly, ready to glare at Cheru if the fool so much as looked at Dalia.

Dalia watched everything with wonder at first, almost forgetting the wounds her host had inflicted on her for a moment. This was not because she had forgiven him, but simply because while the wonders were before her eyes she had no room for any other thought.

Amro let her be, glad that she was able to have a moment without frustration. He knew that she was still quite wroth with him, but there are perhaps none that could have been so angry that they would have chosen the company of Cheru instead.

As Dalia watched the performers, however, a sense of sadness rose within her. Here she was, watching wonders from a strange and beautiful world, while her beloved waited in sorrow for her to return. Slowly her wonder faded, and her smile was replaced by a pensive frown.

Amro shut his eyes for a moment and sighed, thinking to himself, 'Joy visits for just a moment; sorrow comes home to dwell.'

When he opened his eyes again he turned his attention away from Dalia and her sorrows. He did not want her to see his worry; that would only make her feel all the more melancholy. Instead he picked up his fork and fixed his gaze upon the food.

There were hundreds of steaming lobsters, shrimp and crabs, piled high on wooden platters. Everything had been cooked in great pans with plenty of coconut oil and sea salt. There was ale from the ships and great pitchers of Dau dew, the favorite liquor of the Snakil. Amro had tasted it once, but it made him feel quite sick after just a single sip. Oblis drank quite a bit of it. That sight alone was enough to make even the stoutest sailor sick to his stomach. He laughed to himself, thinking, 'Is it the sight of him drinking, or is it just the sight of him?'

He grabbed a hot crab from the table and cracked its shell open with his fingers.

Cheru attempted the same, but after a few failed attempts he took up a hammer and struck the creature. Amro considered how this singular instant seemed to capture the man's whole person and history as if it were an illustration of his very soul.

Dalia, noticing all this, smiled again, and for the moment at least, things were tranquil between her and her uncle. She wore a beautiful blue dress wrought after the fashion of the Snakil, with a crown of white feathers in her hair. This had been a gift from Jarot. She almost certainly would have refused such a gift had it come to her in any other circumstances. She did not want to fall out of Lord Pelas' favor again.

'Even though you did not spend the entire evening polishing your face,' Amro joked with her, 'you are still the most beautiful guest at this ball.' His eyes quickly flashed between the white-haired Snakilman at Pelas' side and Oblis, who very nearly wallowed in a large plate of fried fish.

Dalia laughed sincerely.

Aguians

Ghastin was at the water's edge that night, spear in hand, fishing for lightfins, the strange glowing fish that dwelt in the waters near Grenost. He had three on a string already, tied to a harpoon that he had thrust into the sand. When the elves had first made peace with the Snakilmen, he had been informed that a skillful fisherman might spend their whole life trying to catch one of these strange creatures. They were unbelievably quick; darting away from nets and spears with ease. They were too cunning to bite a hook, and one could not hope to catch one with their hands any more than they might hope to catch the west wind.

Nonetheless, Ghastin had caught at least three of them each night since the Snakil fishermen issued their challenge. When the time came to sail again, Ghastin would have enough of their brilliant scales to buy the forest itself. He thought he might do just that: wait until it was time for the fleets to return and then remain behind to live as a king. A man who had caught so many lightfins could easily proclaim himself god-born, and the king of all fishermen. A single scale from one of those fish, once it had been dried and preserved, was enough to buy a league of good farmland. He could buy all the farmland in eastern Dominas with what he had caught already. But he might just settle for peace and quiet.

He thought of his brother, though, and of Dalia and her mother Ele. He thrust the spear into the water, releasing his rage beneath the surface and pinning one of the quick fish with the point. He would return to Sunlan with Amro.

He probably could have caught more lightfins that night, but there was something strange in the air. A different scent, he thought, had come in with the breeze. There was something new happening.

He tied the fourth fish to his spear and lay down on the sand, looking up at the sky. The moon was large overhead, staring down at him through a cloudless sky. 'There are no wolves here,' he thought suddenly. 'That is what is missing from such a scene.' In Ilvas there had been many wolves. The elves used to hunt them for sport, but Ghastin hated it. To make the hunter into prey was despicable to him.

He did not know how long he lay like that, staring into the silver light of the moon. Suddenly the smoke from the feast was blown across its surface, darkening its light for just a moment. This change was enough to remind him that evening was getting on, and there would be work to do in the morning.

As he rose from the sand he heard shouts and the sound of panicked voices. Looking toward the docks he could see many strange shapes moving about, some swinging swords and spears, but others swinging their arms around as though their fists were hammers. 'By the pit!' he cursed, gathering up his harpoon and hurrying toward the fighting. The lightfins flailed about as he ran, their colorful scales shifting beautifully even in death.

When he reached the docks he could scarcely believe his eyes. There stood about two dozen creatures, giant frogs by every appearance, battling a group of sailors.

Taller than men by a head, their muscles were as enormous as they were supple, and their flat, rounded heads seemed to come right out of their torsos – nothing of a neck could be discerned. There was a great variety among their forms, but they were all strong, large and quick. Their pale, slimy skin also seemed to come in several different hues. Some were deep brown, others light yellow and still more of them green or even blue. Most of them had speckles, spots or some other incongruity on their flesh, and among these speckles were barnacles, scars and many other deformities.

'Aguians!' Ghastin whispered as he matched their appearance to the legends he had heard among the Snakil.

Alsley was in the midst of the sailors, shouting orders and sounding in every way like a man prepared to meet his death bravely. 'Ghastin!' he shouted when he saw the elf. 'To the feast! Warn the high elves!'

'Curse you, child!' Ghastin replied harshly, 'warn them yourself.' He pushed his way through them and thrust his spear into one of the Aguians. The creatures flesh was as soft as pudding - at first. As soon as the point found its mark the flesh seemed to turn into stone and the shaft of the spear snapped in two, sending Ghastin back onto the ground. His fish fell to the ground and were trampled beneath the monster's feet.

The creature's mouth was large and toothless, gaping open as if the creature were in constant amazement. There was no nose; the creature only had two small nostrils just beneath two surprisingly intelligent eyes. The creatures stood erect, but it was clear from their posture and their movements that they were more at home in the water than on the land. Their hands and feet were enormous, each finger and toe webbed by tough leathery skin. Around their heads they wore pendants, gold chains and an assortment of decorations, but otherwise they wore no clothes at all. They had no need for armor it seemed. Their soft-looking bodies could be hardened at will, as Ghastin had just learned.

One of those soft hands swung down at Ghastin, becoming as hard as iron as it struck him across the face. He was sent flying into the sailors knocking six of them to the ground. The creatures stepped forward, their awkward motions punctuated now and again by fierce attacks, their blubbery flesh taking on the hardness of metal when their blows were landed.

Ghastin could taste the blood on his face as it poured from his nose into his mouth. 'We may not be able to stop you devils,' he said. 'But I shall give you a taste of what is to come if you continue to march up the beach.'

He drew his sword from its sheath. It was not his sword, by his reckoning at least. Pelas still bore the sword his father had left for him. This blade was made by Amro, and was at least its equal. He dreamed that one day the opportunity would arise for him to reclaim it - preferably from Lord Pelas' dead fingers. This thought filled him with a fierce desire to live - to live to see that day fulfilled. He cut into the Aguians with a ferocity their aquatic forms were not prepared to counter. They hardened their flesh against it, but the blade cut through their limbs as if they were stalks of wheat ripe for the harvest. Their blood poured out and they stumbled as he cut at them.

For all this, however, they were not stopped. A man thus wounded would lay upon the ground until death took him. But these creatures lumbered on as though they had not been injured at all. Many of them fell dead, their lives spilling out with their blood. But they did not react as though they had been hurt. 'They feel no pain!' he shouted. 'Hold them back as long as you can!' he commanded the sailors. 'We cannot stop them with these weapons!' He spoke, of course, not of his own weapon, but of their iron swords. Looking around quickly he sought out the weakest of them, a Knariss youth by the name of Jandon. 'Boy!' he shouted at the golden haired young man. 'To the feast!' he commanded, 'Tell them we need dwarf-steel at the docks!'

The boy ran off toward the fortress, more than happy to have an excuse for abandoning the fight. As he ran away another twenty Aguians appeared on the docks, leaping from the water and landing on the wooden planks with great force. The whole structure shook under their weight, and the men closed into a tight circle.

Axe, Sword and Spear

Jandan ran into the feast hall frantically waving his arms and screaming. There was an awkward moment where he simply froze in his place, feeling as if he had stumbled into another world, and not quite being able to remember why he had come. The sights, sounds and smells were all strange. The dark Snakil were all over the hall, serving food, playing music and dancing. At this very same moment the elves turned their attention to him, at first believing him to be some new act or show.

'What is this new devilry?' he heard one of the high elves laugh, misunderstanding the nature of his sudden appearance.

'Monsters!' he shrieked, suddenly remembering his reason for coming.

Amro pushed his seat back carefully and rose to his feet. He was about to ask the boy a question when the room erupted with the clamor of breaking dishes, clanging forks and panicked shouts. Amro looked at Pelas and saw only rage in his eyes, as if his challenge to Fate was being mocked.

'Aguians!' Jarot screeched in terror. 'They have come to avenge the wounds given to their master!'

Amro grabbed Dalia by the arm and pulled her away from the table. 'Go to the inner room, block the door and wait for me. I must go to Ghastin.'

'We shall go to him,' she said sternly.

'This is no time for an argument, Dalele!' he hissed.

'Agreed,' she said defiantly, 'then learn your own lesson, uncle.'

His eyes opened in wonder. He could not believe that she would choose this moment to defy him. 'Stay close to me!' he commanded. 'Does she not understand,' he asked himself, 'how I must, for her mother's sake, keep her safe?'

Just as he had spoken there was a loud crash and a strange form appeared atop the table, its bare, webbed feet crushing the dishes and forks without showing any signs of discomfort. It's arms moved about awkwardly, as if the creature was unused to moving in the open air.

Amro took note of this, and drew his sword. Cheru had already drawn his blade and swung at the Aguian, his sword rattling against the creature's stone hard flesh. The creature swung its arm and struck him, sending two teeth flying from his mouth in a splatter of blood. Cheru fell to the ground in a heap. Oblis repeated Cheru's mistake, attempting to cut the creature's flesh with iron. When the creature made to strike him, however, he pulled out a knife and braced himself for the blow. The great force of the attack sent him flying, but sunk the dagger deep in the creature's hand.

'That is one way to do it,' Amro mused. In an instant, however, he had his own troubles to contend with. A huge Aguian with shoulders the size of Ginat's head charged into the room like a bull, sending high elves and Snakil men flying. This one had dark brown skin with bright yellow flecks of color all over his back. His fist struck down at a Snakil dancer on the floor, splattering his blood like wine is spilled from a ripened grape.

The Aguian looked about the room as if it did not know what to do next. It fixed its gaze upon Amro, who alone of the high elves was standing unshaken, and charged. The creature lowered its head like a bull and its smooth head grew as solid as steel, shattering the dinner table into pieces as it struck. Amro pushed Dalia aside, rolled toward the beast and drew his sword as he came out of his tumble. The quick upward slash nearly severed the monster's head, sending it lumbering into the wall where its neck snapped from the force of its own charge. It fell to the ground and its flesh became once again like jelly.

It was not long, however, before more such beasts came into the hall, leaping from place to place in mighty bounds. Several elves and many of the Snakil perished when the Aguian they attacked leaped clear over their heads, landing behind them even as they struck at the empty air where their foe had stood. It only took one such moment of confusion to give the Aguian its opportunity.

Amro looked toward the front of the hall. Pelas stood there, fighting a now armless monster with Ginat and Oblis at his side. With their iron swords the latter two could do little more than slow the creatures down.

'Child!' he shouted at one of the Snakil servants, a dark young man in the pelt of some spotted beast.

'Yeah, my lord,' he answered without looking; his eyes were fixed on the Aguians.

'Run to my room and get my axe; it is beneath the bed. Bring it to me now! There is also a spear on the wall; bring it to me without delay!'

'What is it?' Dalele asked worriedly.

'These creatures cannot be slain but by dwarf-steel,' Amro explained. 'Their flesh is too strong for iron.'

The young man hurried off, glad to be getting away from the fight.

'How is such a thing possible?' she asked, her eyes filled with fear, not for her own life, but for the sake of her beloved.

'Nevermind how it is possible!' he shouted, quickly severing legs and arms from one of the monsters. Dalia cut the flailing beast's throat with her own dwarf-steel blade.

'Where is Ghastin!' Amro shouted, fearing for his brother's life.

Ghastin sat perfectly still. He was submersed in water up to his nose, which he would lift ever so slightly from time to time in order to fill his lungs. What had become of Alsley and the others he did not know, nor care. It was Dalele and Amro he was concerned with. He only hoped the youth he had sent had arrived at the hall before the monsters. For the moment he could do nothing for them. The Aguians still leaped from the water, landing on the docks with amazing force. Several times he had been all but certain that the wood was about to give way, bringing the docks and monsters down into the sea. But these were creatures of the sea, and such a fall would likely do them only a little harm. He learned from watching the Knariss sailors that their blades could not pierce the flesh of these beasts. If they took the monster by surprise, or struck it in the back, where it could not anticipate their blow, then and then only would their weapons inflict a wound. Where the monsters saw the attack coming they were very nearly invulnerable. As the monsters moved about, Ghastin could see their flesh move like jelly, but when they were struck or when struck out against their enemies, their bodies would tense and all the solidity in their form seemed to concentrate upon the point of contact, so that they were smooth and agile in motion, but hard as steel when they attacked.

'Dalele!' he thought fearfully. His mind raced for a way of escape. 'I swear it by all that lives and breathes, if anything befalls you I shall peel Pelas' flesh back like an unripened fruit, torn apart ere its time has come. Strip by strip I shall flay him!'

When he was a boy, he did not understand why he and Amro had suddenly left their smithy and all they knew behind. He knew now, and understood that it had been to save Ele's and his own lives. He would never forgive Pelas for what he had done. He shut his eyes, blinking back tears. 'Curse him!' he thought, ashamed of his sorrows.

Twice in the course of this skirmish Amro saved Pelas' life. And each time Pelas looked at him with more jealousy than gratitude. 'There is plenty of glory to go around,' he wanted to say. But he just continued his fight in silence, only speaking when it was to give another warrior warning. It had been nearly a minute, but the Snakil boy had not yet returned from Amro's room. This he took to mean that the monsters had also invaded the inner quarters of the fortress. They were now to be found in every corner of the hall, and the bodies of the Snakil were cast about like dust.

'The poor souls,' Dalia said to herself. Their weapons, made mostly of wood, could do nothing but shatter against the Aguians' tough skin. Dalia felt only a little more useful than they, however, as her blade could scarcely cut her enemies, despite the quality of its material. She felt great frustration welling up inside of her, but she would not say anything against Amro, not while he fought with everything within him to save their lives.

The creatures continued to pour into the hall, showing no sign of remorse or concern. Kolohi found himself cornered by a pair of the brutes, but managed to escape their grasp, losing the small finger off his left hand to one of their gaping mouths. Bralohi rushed to his side when he saw his brother imperiled. Lohi wrapped his hand in a cloth quickly and made as though he would bring him from the battle. 'There is nowhere safe now, father!' Kolohi shouted. 'Turn and fight; and give me my sword!' Lohi reluctantly helped him rise to his feet and gave him his blade. 'I am not a warrior,' Lohi said.

'You might surprise yourself, father,' Kolohi laughed, his face full of pain.

A dozen rather large Aguians entered the hall at that moment, and the three of them made their way to the west side of the hall, knowing that none of them were a match for beasts such as these. Together they took down one of the smaller beasts. 'See father?' Kolohi said as he watched Lohi draw back his sword. 'In truth,' the older man said somberly, 'I don't know whether it is better to kill than to die.' His sons said nothing, but turned to face still more enemies.

There were nearly sixty of the creatures in the hall when at last Ghastin emerged from his hiding place. He had no choice but to allow them all to pass him by unchallenged. Had he revealed himself sooner they would have overwhelmed him easily. Now, however, they were not expecting him, and that would give him, not quite an advantage, but at least less of a disadvantage. Within the hall, the survivors were now huddled into two different groups, each with the high elves fending off the invaders with dwarf-steel while those who could not fight huddled in fear. These were mostly Knariss sailors and Snakil - neither of whom would have any weapons that could have aided their protectors.

Amro looked out at the monsters and saw a tremendously large Aguian preparing to charge them, his head low and hard as iron. Ere he took his first step, however, Ghastin fell upon him, leaping from atop the remnants of the dining table. He sunk his blade deep into the beast's head, the tip of his blade emerging from the monster's mouth. With a swift motion he drew it out again and jumped from the creature's back as it thudded to the floor, death stealing away all of its solidity. With a swirl he beheaded another creature and with two strong strokes he took the arms off of another. This beast kicked him, though, ending his fierce attack. The wounded creature grunted, and a deep rumble poured from his throat. Amro and Dalia turned their attention then to Ghastin, who now lay senseless upon the floor. They rushed toward him.

Suddenly, a small voice cried out, 'I am here! I am here!'

Amro looked with amazement upon the Snakil boy, struggling to carry both a spear and an axe in his thin arms. In an instant Amro was in the midst of the monsters with his mighty axe, cutting their limbs off as if they were made of straw. They braced themselves, they prepared themselves, they readied their limbs for a counterblow, but he took them to pieces with ease ere they could do anything.

Dalia also leaped into the fray, piercing them two at a time with the dwarf-steel spear. The two of them hovered over Ghastin and fought with every bit of their strength and skill while he rose from the ground, shaking the dust from his sleeves. 'If I had a choice,' he said to the others, 'I would never set foot in a boat again, if such monsters are hidden beneath the depths.'

'There are monsters on land too, brother,' Amro said.

'Indeed there are,' Ghastin said, his eyes flashing toward Pelas and his companions, who were now standing dumbly as he, Amro and Dalia battled the Aguians. Between axe, sword and spear the Aguians could do nothing. They had never met such weapons before, and their dead soon outnumbered the dead among the Snakil and Knariss.

A great Aguian made an attempt to ram his head into them, but Dalia threw her spear headlong and it pierced his head, leaving through the back of his bulky shoulders to pin itself to the wall. Three more approached, and she drew her sword to fight them. She slashed at them desperately, her slender blade unable to do more than cut them. She slit one of their throats, and the monster clutched its neck as its life poured out on the floor. The others seemed uninterested in their companion and one of them took her throat in his hand. He only squeezed for a moment, though, for with a roar Ghastin had cut the beast's limb off, dropping Dalia and the severed arm to the ground with a thud.

By this time the other elves came to their senses and joined the fight, standing beside the others with their dwarf-steel weapons. In a line they guarded the Snakil, the Knariss sailors, and those elves who did not have such weapons. It was not until they found themselves moving steadily forward that they realized the creatures were fleeing. Although, with beasts such as these it was hard to call such a departure a flight. They had certainly taught them better than to attack the elves of Grenost, but they did not leave as those who are fearful of their lives, or who are in a panic. It was almost as one who leaves the market because they realize the merchandise is more expensive than they had anticipated.

Howbeit, a great many treasures vanished from the hall that day, taken as the Aguians vanished from Grenost. Mostly jewels and chains of gold, taken to adorn mighty warriors in sunken halls for as long as time shall endure.

It took the elves the better part of three months to restore the docks and the fortress to its former condition. The Snakil came on the day following the attack to dispose of their dead. 'They have been claimed by the sea,' Jarot explained sadly. 'So they must go to the sea.' The dead were loaded onto rafts and gently released to sink into the ocean. The boatmen muttered some sort of prayer or chant as they worked, but there was otherwise very little ceremony. The Knariss, who always buried their dead at sea, followed their lead, though they grieved for their companions in their own way in a ceremony upon the shore. The elves who had perished were burned, Lord Pelas offering them up in the element of fire as if to make a show of his defiance of the sea.

Many evenings thereafter he could be seen walking along the shores, looking out over the water with an intense look in his eyes. 'You shall see me again,' he would swear, 'and then I shall show you who is master of the water.

Though it had been the Aguians who assailed them, Pelas took it as a challenge from the master of the sea.

It was a challenge he now began eagerly to anticipate.
[Chapter VIII:  
The Thunder Snake](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

And when at last they faced their Foe,

When mighty men in boats did row,

She did not cow'r as others might,

But leapt from deck in black of night.

Naught but sea between her and death,

She struggled till her final breath,

Did all but leave her breast at last,

Yet to the beast she held on fast.

Her blade sunk deep in scaly mesh,

Water turned red from wounded flesh,

Dalele had slain her fearsome foe,

His carcass sunk beneath the flow.

These deeds won her a rich reward,

In honor of her mighty sword,

Wealth and riches enough to pay,

The demand which on her lover lay.

The Departure

It was late in the following year (the third year in the old chronology of the elves) when Lord Pelas gave the command that the fleets would set sail. This was not at all unusual. The fleets had set sail many times since their failed attempt upon the Great Serpent. But never had he ordered that every ship should sail. Moreover, even had he sent his entire fleet out to sea, it would not have been the same as it now was - for the fleet had grown since that time.

After the Aguians had attacked, Pelas ordered his men to build a shipyard, and he pressed his men every day to built and outfit new warships. He also put the Snakil to work mining iron and copper from the hills. In time he had restored his fleet to its former size, although not to its former glory. The ships they built scarcely resembled those that had been constructed in Bel Albor. But the Knariss were clever shipwrights, and the ships they made were at least as sturdy as those built in Sunlan.

Despite Jarot's constant pestering, and despite the doubts of his companions, Pelas made no attempt to ascertain the whereabouts of the Serpent. He did not ask for news of him, or consult any wise man for advice or council. It was his firm belief that if he set out to slay the Serpent, the monster could not but accept the challenge. In this way, perhaps, the Serpent and the lord elf were much the same. He had no doubt that if he sailed into the east, or in any which direction he pleased, so long as he sailed in great force against the monster, it would not fail to answer his summons.

On that morning Dalia awoke as usual to the nervous pleas of her maidservant Orix, who was saying, 'My lady, you must awake. The fleets will be leaving today, and master Amro has asked to see you in his smithy.'

Dalia opened her eyes reluctantly. She had been dreaming of Thuruvis again, as she did most nights. His wounds were healed, as she knew they must be in truth by this time, and his spirit was strong. He was calling to her; reaching out to her across the water. But she could not go to him yet.

'Come, then Orix,' she said, rising from her bed and dressing swiftly. 'We must first go to the baths.'

Orix's eyes grew wide and she could not help but shake her head. 'The lady prepares herself for a voyage like a young bride, but for a feast like a dock man,' she thought. She would never understand the ways of the Immortals.

It was nearly noon by the time she passed through the door to Amro's smithy, dressed in a dark blue tunic with her sword on a silver belt at her hip. She wore new sandals, laced up to her knee and she bore a large bundle on her shoulders.

'You are ready, not only to leave for war, but to leave Grenost I see,' Amro said in a kindly voice.

'I do not have many belongings,' she said. 'And I may as well bring them along. I shall be all the more ready to return home when it is all finished in this way.'

'Yes, but shall you return alone, Dalele? Surely you cannot think that we will slay the invinsible sea monster in the utter east and then turn north from thence, sailing without delay for Sunlan.'

'I think no such thing, uncle,' she replied with a smile. 'But when the hour comes for our departure, I shall be the very first to board the homeward ships.'

'And you are quite certain that you have packed everything you own?' Amro asked, as if to instill doubt within her.

She paused for a moment, her eyes glancing upward as if she meant to look within her own mind. After a moment she answered, 'Of course,' but then, 'Well, there is the reward after all. I have not packed that, yet.'

'The reward?' Amro said, as if he had never heard of such a thing. The only reward he anticipated was the safe return of Ele's daughter. If Pelas gave him gold, it would matter very little to him. Moreover, he and Ghastin had agreed - at Ghastin's insistence - that their lot should go toward Dalia's fortunes. In this way she was almost certain to have enough gold to satisfy her father's desires. That is, of course, assuming they survived. More than likely this voyage would be an extravagant waste of time and gold. If they were fortunate enough to find the Serpent, then Amro saw little hope of any outcome that did not involve the lot of them sinking to the bottom of the sea, or being swallowed up by the Serpent. Then there were those strange monsters the Snakil called 'Aguians'.

According to Jarot, these beasts were in some way the servants of the Serpent, and were never seen but in the wake of the Serpent's destruction. But the elves had not been destroyed; and the Aguians had learned a hard lesson. Jarot laughed and said, 'They have never seen any survive the Serpent with enough strength to also survive their attacks. They loot the wrecks of those brought down by the monster, and they make an end of any who survive him.'

'Are they, then, in league with the Serpent?' Pelas had asked.

It took nearly a minute of laughter before Jarot, seeing the ire in Pelas' face, answered, 'In league? No. But they ever follow in his wake, my lord.'

'Yes; it is the reward for which I have come on this journey,' Dalia answered her uncle, as though he needed such a reminder.

'Ah, yes, the heaps of gold,' he laughed. 'But there is one thing more,' he said, turning from his work and lifting a bundle from a nearby table. You have forgotten your sword of all things!'

Her eyes peeled back in amazement. She had not spoken to him about weapons since the day the Aguians attacked, but when she opened the bundle she found a sword, in every way the twin of Ghastin's blade. Upon the hilt was written, 'Cutha Dalelis Marineis,' which, in the tongue of Sunlan, means, 'The sword of Dalia the Mariner.'

'Uncle!' she marveled. 'But I thought you had no steel?'

'I always have steel,' he said with a smile. 'Especially for the daughter of Ele.'

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. 'Thank you, Amro.'

She drew the blade from its sheath and her eyes opened still wider. It was in every respect a warrior's blade. It was as long and heavy a blade as any man would use. Amro's relief could not be hidden from his eyes as he watched her swing the blade with ease. He was not sure until that moment that she would be able to handle such a sword. But when he saw the difficulty she had battling the Aguians he had decided that she needed a warrior's blade, and not a court ornament.

'Now we can go and kill the Thunder Snake,' came a voice from the other side of the room. Ghastin stood there, leaning against the wall without making a sound. Whether he had been there the whole time or not she could not have guessed. He pushed himself away from the wall and approached her. 'Remember why you have come here, Dalele,' he said sternly. 'You have come for Thuruvis; and all depends upon your return. Do not let that blade put it into your mind that you must risk yourself for the sake of Pelas. Let Pelas slay the Serpent if he wishes; you must see to your own ends, even as he will see to his. Think not that he would miss a night's rest if you perished.'

'But if Pelas perishes, Ghastin,' she replied, 'who will reward me?'

'Do not worry about such things,' he said. 'If your father refuses to relent-'

'That is enough, brother,' Amro interrupted. Ghastin had suggested more than once that they abandon the others to return to Sunlan. There Amro and Ghastin could easily overwhelm Dalta and carry Ele off to wheresoever they pleased. Amro shook his head as if to remind his brother that Ele was no longer their charge. However she came to be in her current circumstances, she did not entirely hate Dalta. And Dalia was part of her father; she would not allow them to kill him.

Ghastin seemed to pine after the days of his childhood, when it was just Amro and him. This often seemed to blind him entirely to the fact that his kin had in many ways moved on. In some dark corner of his mind there seemed to linger the hope that they might someday escape the ambitions of Pelas entirely.

'We must see to our own preparations, brother,' Amro reminded him.

'Fine,' Ghastin said disappointedly. 'I must see to something first, however. I will be on the docks ere the departure.'

With those words he pushed past Orix, barely noticing her as he left the smithy.

As he had promised, Ghastin appeared on the docks just as the Dadiiron was preparing to depart. Falruvis had just arrived and was now preparing to board the ship. 'Brother,' Amro said. 'It is customary for the captain to board the ship last of all. You would not go against custom, would you?'

Ghastin smiled mischievously, 'I wouldn't dare,' he answered with a dark smile.

'Where have you been?' Dalia asked.

'Never you mind,' he answered. 'I have been working,' he said after a pause.

'Working?' Amro said with a start. 'I did not know you knew the meaning of the word.'

'I am not a blacksmith, brother,' he said coolly, 'but I keep myself occupied.'

'I'm sure you do,' Amro laughed. 'But now we must occupy ourselves with the ship. Come.'

With that the three of them took up their bundles and walked up the ramp onto the deck of the Dadiiron. The ship was barely recognizable to them at first. There were smaller boats piled high on the decks, tied to the side of the ship, and tucked away anywhere they could be fit. 'The Knariss have not been idle,' Ghastin mused. In each of the smaller ships there were harpoons and great coils of rope. 'It would be unfortunate if we failed to find the Serpent,' Ghastin said, amused by all the labor that had been put into this voyage. He did not believe for an instant that they would see the monster. He, like most of the other elves, thought it was foolish to set out on such a voyage when not even a rumor of the Serpent had been heard for over six months. But Pelas was confident - nay, he was sure - that the Serpent would come to him.

The Fleet

Lord Pelas now had under his command some five-hundred vessels. Only a hundred of the Sunlan warships were still capable of sailing. The remaining four-hundred ships were either ships they had purchased in some of the ports on the northeastern coast of Dominas, where the Merkata and the Harz would someday battle for power. This was before the rise of Mount Fhuhar; before that mighty volcano destroyed the forest, and before the fall of Bel Albor shook the whole world of Tel Arie.

The rest of their ships they built for themselves in Grenost, where the Knariss and the Snakil labored day and night to satisfy Lord Pelas' ambitions.

The ships were light but sturdy, built with the cunning of the Knariss but in the style of the Snakil. They were longer than the Sunlan ships, and each one of them had a painted face for a figurehead. The Snakil traditionally paint a serpent across the hull of each vessel, in deference to the god of the waters. But Pelas utterly refused to allow it. When he threatened to withhold his gold, they decided that their traditions were outdated.

By this time every high elf was more than capable as ship captain, and they were split accordingly, each one taking command over at least one vessel. Lohi refused to captain a ship, and insisted upon sailing aboard Bralohi's ship. Cheru and Ginat were also given ships, but Oblis remained aboard the Fatewind with Pelas, much to the amusement of Amro and his brother. 'After more than a year at sea he is still not to be trusted with more than a rowboat,' Amro snickered.

'It is amazing what men will overlook for the sake of loyalty,' Ghastin said, shaking his head.

They made certain not to speak in this manner when Falruvis was nearby. Falruvis was under no illusions as far as Pelas was concerned. He did not love him as Bralohi did, nor did he respect him as did Cheru and Oblis, and he certainly did not worship him as did the Snakil and, to a lesser degree, the Knariss. But he could still remember the way that Pelas and his brother had taken command over the rogue elves of the marshlands. 'Fate is with this man,' he would say from time to time, 'I can doubt him, but I cannot doubt this fact.' Falruvis had a strong sense of propriety, and he would not allow his servants to mock their master.

Jarot was coming along on this voyage also. He brought with him some five-hundred Snakil spearmen, all of them well accustomed to life aboard a boat. They arrived that morning with their dark faces painted orange and with their long dark hair tied in knots above their heads. Each of them carried a bundle of wooden spears beneath their armpits and wore a great length of rope about their shoulders. In their eyes was a look of war. 'Why do they serve him so eagerly?' Ghastin sniffed.

'If the world were understandable, brother, we would rule it by now,' Amro sighed.

Standing upon the shore watching the sailors make their preparations was the spirit Folly and his brother Death. 'Come now,' Folly grumbled, 'you must tell me. What do you know that I do not!'

Death said nothing, but his face was as full of war as the most fierce of the Snakil.

'You must tell me why you are so pleased with yourself,' Folly insisted. 'You can scarcely contain yourself. I cannot remember the last time I have seen you so filled with excitement - so brimming with joy.'

'Where is your brother?' Death asked.

'He is your brother as well!' Folly reminded the dark spirit.

'I denied it not,' Death said seriously.

Folly shook his head; there was no understanding this one. 'He said something about ruling over everything,' Folly laughed.

'Did he indeed?' Death asked, his head tilting slightly in the direction of his brother. This was about as much surprise as he had ever shown.

'Yes, I speak the truth, brother,' Folly said, putting his hand to his chest. 'You know that I must.'

'Yet also I know you speak the truth only at the very last moment - after all of your jests.'

'Well, this is not a jest,' Folly said, feigning sincerity, 'Our brother spoke exactly as I just recounted.'

'So be it,' Death said.

'It does not bother you, brother? It does not trouble you that he thinks he rules over both Folly and Death alike? Moreoever, wherein does master Sleep rule over Folly and Death? All men die, and they die utterly, and all men fall into my power from time to time - sometimes even in sleep.'

'If it is so, then it is so,' Death said, making an end of the conversation.

'That is as safe a statement as ever I have heard,' Folly laughed.

'There will be work for me brother,' Death said, at last answering Folly's questions about his excitement – if it is right to use such words regarding that grim spirit. 'Labors such as I have not been given in an age - not since the fall of Mount Vitiai and the rise of the elves.'

'And you are pleased with this?' Folly asked, feigning insult, and pretending to fan his face as if he felt faint \- as if he could feel faint.

'You are so often my forerunner, brother,' Death said, 'leading men into my arms. Yet still you pretend that you do not see it coming.'

'I see it coming, but I know also that it has been prophesied that Pelas shall survive this,' Folly answered.

'For all your cleverness, then,' Death said, shaking his head. 'You do not understand your own doctrines.'

'It is not my place to understand,' Folly laughed. 'It is my place to bring confusion.'

'But do not be confused about this, brother,' Death said coldly, 'Life is a part of Death; not death a part of life.'

'What does that even mean?' Folly chuckled.

'Wherein lies the difference between the water of the sea and the waters of a man's body?' Death asked. 'Wherein is the one living and the one dead, when both are water through and through?'

Folly blinked at him in confusion.

'If it is a tragedy for a thing to fall under my power,' Death said, not willing to affirm that this was the case, 'then it is a tragedy regardless of who it is that perishes. Why is it worse to spill the water of a man than it is to spill the water of the sea? Or of a monster?'

'You are as warm as you are cold, brother,' Folly said with a gleam in his eyes. 'But your pity shall not slow your hand?'

'Pity?' Death said, as close to laughter as ever he had been. 'Why should I pity the dead for returning to the dead?'

'But if men be dead already, what need hath the world of Death?'

'What need hath the world of life?' Death turned toward his brother and spoke, 'You have a hand in this, brother,' he said sternly, 'It is Folly who has taught men to make a difference between the living and the dead, as if, by moving and feeling, they become something different from that which moves and feels not - or as though that which feels not is of a different nature for not feeling. This is all your work, yet you pester me with questions?'

Folly's cheeks turned red, 'I have been given, as we have all been given, certain tasks-'

'One of them being to torment your brothers day and night with nonsense?' Death asked.

'I strive to live in every way in accordance with my purpose,' Folly shrugged.

'So do I,' Death answered, the hint of a smile breaking through on his lips. His gaze was now turned toward the sea.

The Voyage

It was late in the afternoon when finally the fleet set out into the east. Hundreds of Snakil women came to the shores to see their men off. They danced and sang songs of victory, and threw flowers all over the beach until the shore was speckled with bright red and orange petals. 'They prepare for a funeral it seems,' Ghastin said.

'They have every reason to do so,' Amro said somberly. 'It is said the the Serpent has haunted the waters since the creation of the world, and has only grown stronger for his great age.'

'Then what are we doing on this ship?' Dalia asked with a chuckle. 'You both talk so confidently of our coming doom that I can only think that you have lost the will to live altogether. There are quicker, and I dare say surer ways of ending your lives. There is plenty of rope aboard, and plenty of sharp blades. There is also the deep sea beneath us, with its sharks and demons.'

'We jest, Dalele,' Amro said, 'But we know the perils of the rope, the knife and the deep. And we know the sure death that follows their employment. The truth is, we ought to feel just as sure about the Serpent - we ought to be certain that we go to die.'

'But if you are certain, why go at all?' Dalia asked.

'We go for Ele,' Ghastin said. 'And for you, Dalele,' he added, when he saw the look in her eyes.

'I go for curiosity,' Amro said. Fate is often a capricious master. I have watched this Pelas escape many perils; not the least of which is the way he was saved from the armies of Sunlan by his brother Agonas. I mean to see this to the end; I want to see just how far Fate will carry him before she drops him.'

'The higher he is brought,' Ghastin smiled, 'the longer we can watch the falling.'

'You two are treacherous souls,' Dalia said, shaking her head.

'At least we are not merely chasing after gold and wealth!' Ghastin grinned.

'If Fate leads us into fortune, then Pelas can ascend to the moon itself without any complaint from me,' Dalia said.

'And pray that she leaves him there,' Ghastin said.

They continued in this way for a time, each making jests about this or that high elf, but chiefly mocking Pelas. As they laughed, however, Amro began to grow distracted. He laughed also when they mocked Pelas and Cheru and Oblis, but he could remember the words of the three spirits. He knew that his service to Pelas would eventually bring him into the arms of Death. There is no altering the path of Fate. One must either become a part of Fate, and travel with it, or be ground to dust in its wake. 'Fate,' he said aloud. Dalia and Ghastin stopped for a moment and looked at him. He sniffed the air and said, 'I think I have exhausted myself. I should get some rest.'

Ghastin looked at him concernedly. 'I don't think I have ever heard that word from your lips, brother,' he said. 'Are you well?'

'I am well,' he answered. But in his mind he added, 'for now at least.'

Their silence as he walked away from them was almost more than he could bear. He made his way toward the cabins quickly, only nodding to the other sailors as they passed.

Alsley bowed low, his left arm hanging in a sling across his chest. After the Aguians fled they found him lying on the beach with most of the flesh on his arm chewed off. He barely survived, and now his arm was all but useless to him. But he would not be parted from the Dadiiron, which had been his charge even before Pelas set out on his voyage. 'Have a good night,' he said to the sailor.

'Um, of course,' the Knariss replied, surprised to hear an elf speak to him so familiarly. At that moment Amro felt closer to the man than to many an elf. For the elves, though they know they can be slain and killed, do not foresee their own deaths.

Amro felt more like a mortal in this sense - nay, he was a mortal. 'My hourglass has more sand, perhaps, but it spills out all the same,' he said to himself as he disappeared below decks.

The fleet sailed due east for several days, again following the whims of Jarot, who claimed to, 'feel the Serpent in his bones.' He also claimed to be able to hear his son's voice calling from the monster's belly. This last claim was almost more than Bralohi could handle.

Kolohi laughed, and even Cheru seemed amused. Such a reaction could be tolerated from the others, but Bralohi was probably the only one of his servants that Pelas truly trusted.

He knew Cheru and Oblis were stupidly loyal to him, but Bralohi was the only one whose loyalty did not seem to obstruct his ability to give wise counsel. This counsel was seldom heeded; at least, it was not followed openly. But Pelas liked to keep him nearby and always asked his opinion when a decision had to be made.

The fleet passed Ruguna on the eve of Morest. By the time the last ship had passed by the island there were over two dozen watchers standing upon the shore, all of them just a tattered cloth away from nakedness. The men carried spears threateningly, as if it were their presence that caused the ships to pass by the island rather than attack them.

Pelas laughed at them; Kolohi studied them through a looking-glass. He and Sol would have much to say to one another when next they spoke.

The two of them, more than any of the other elves, were interested in the ways of mortals. 'If history is a story, the story of man is like the story of a lion rather than the tortoise,' Kolohi said to his brother once, comparing the reckless haste of men with the immortal prudence of the elves.

Dalia watched the Rugunan in amazement. 'I wonder what they think of us?' she said.

'Probably that we are a flock of some strange monster,' Ghastin said, standing beside her watching.

'And perhaps we are,' Dalia added thoughtfully.

'Doubtless,' Ghastin affirmed.

The fleet did not relent from its eastward course for the rest of the week. The people began to grow uneasy, especially the Snakil, who believed that by sailing too far they might fall of the face of the world. The Knariss were more afraid of simply starving in the endless ocean. The elves were torn between these two possibilities, and the more remote possibility that they would actually find the Serpent. Ghastin, perhaps alone among the sailors, was also afraid that Pelas might actually find and slay the Serpent. He laughed to himself as he considered how deep his hatred must run for him to wish for such a death in preference to the possibility that Pelas should succeed. 'He took everything from me,' Ghastin reminded himself.

After another week and a half of sailing due east even the Snakil began to concern themselves more with their stores of food and water than with the edge of the world. Just as the men began to mutter amongst themselves, Jarot decided that they must sail south. The change in direction alone seemed to satisfy the men for a time. And when this grew wearisome, after three or four days, Jarot revealed that they must once more sail toward the sun. 'The god of heaven shall show us the way to our fortunes,' he said. They passed several small islands, but on these there was no sign of human dwelling at all. Upon one of these stood a great smoldering mountain. 'Puri!' Jarot called it, as if he had not just invented the name.

'It is an island of death,' Pelas said, noting how there was nothing green or moving to be seen upon its shores.

'It is the island of souls,' Jarot said, giving no hint that this information came fresh from within his own skull, and not from the long traditions of the Snakil. The Snakil were men of the sea, but they were not seafarers - they fished the shores and the streams, but they did not cross oceans, and they certainly had never gone exploring. 'The island of - bad souls,' he added, when he noticed the uneasy look on the face of Oblis. This addition did not seem to comfort the elf-lord.

Another week passed before they came to a rather more beautiful series of islands. Here there was, once again, a smoldering mountain of fire and flame. But the face of the island was covered in greenery. There were enormous gulls flying above, each large enough, Amro thought, for a child to ride upon. Every now and again the gulls would swoop into a dive and splash into the water with great force, rising again with their mighty wings beating against the air, and with a fish in their beaks. Dolphins roamed the waters in abundance, and several other strange creatures of the sea. There were schools of bright orange fish, each half the size of a grown man, with teeth as sharp as razors. Pelas gave them the name Rudja fish, in honor of Prince Rudjan, who they had lost in their battle against the Lapulians. He hoped that this gesture would in some way appease the sorrow of Ijjan, who would receive the news of their success and the news of his son's death at one and the same time – if news of their expedition ever reached his ears.

The fleet halted at these islands for a few days. Sol and Kolohi led a party of Snakil onto shore to search for fresh water. The rest of the men busied themselves with repairs and with restoring some of the food stores. They found that the Rudja fish were not only good for eating, but also extremely easy to catch. 'The goddess has not taught them to fear the net,' Lohi said as he and his grandsons pulled the enormous fish from the sea. The great fish flopped about on the deck violently until the Snakil came at them with clubs. When the fish was soundly beaten, it was taken to be cleaned, gutted and dried.

'The goddess?' Dalia asked. 'Do you mean Evnai?' The elves usually only spoke of gods or goddesses when they meant to frighten their mortal subjects into obedience. But she had heard that the people of Alwan did not know of Evnai.

'Oh no,' Lohi said with a grin. 'I am speaking of the Lady Arie. The goddess of Nature as she is known in Alwan.'

'The hardships that all living things face shape the world. These fish - these Rudja fish - they have dwelt in these waters for many years. Probably for many ages. If there were any of them small enough to fall prey to the birds above, surely those creatures would spawn no children. So also if there were birds born who could not fly - and I have seen enough such birds in the marshlands. Birds born with half-formed wings - they are only good to be eaten by foxes. They will not live long enough to lay eggs of their own. So the mighty live and the weak perish, and the mighty give birth after their kind - the mighty. Lady Arie is the fable - she is the myth that many unlearned men teach to explain the making of living things.'

'Then you do not worship her?' Dalia asked.

'Worship? Have you not heard that the elves defeated the gods?' Lohi had mischief in his eyes as he spoke. He still remembered fighting upon Mount Vitiai, not against gods, but against near kinsmen.

'I have heard a great many things from the elves,' she smiled, hoping he would tell her more about those ancient days.

'Now is no time, and here is no place,' he said, his face suddenly growing melancholy. 'Besides, what use would such knowledge be to you? It has ill-served me thus far.'

'Still,' Dalia said thoughtfully, 'Isn't there some value in the truth - just to know the truth?'

'I don't know,' Lohi said, straining as he pulled another fish from the water to be bludgeoned to death on the ship's deck. 'I really don't know.' He wiped sweat from his brow and then looked back to the water where innumerable hordes of Rudja fish yet swam undisturbed. 'Haven't you any work to do?' he asked. His words cut her like a knife.

She drew her blade and took the head off the next fish as soon as it dropped to the deck. 'I have,' she answered, the hurt apparent in her voice. 'I will see to it.'

'Dalele,' he began, 'I will tell you sometime, I promise you. But,' he let out a labored breath, 'they were not gods, Dalele. They were not gods at all. They were as we are.'

His eyes were so full of sorrow and regret that Dalia could not bring herself to press him further or even to retain her anger. She smiled kindly at him and said, 'When you can; then you will tell me.'

He nodded and turned back to his work. Later that evening she asked Amro if he knew anything of the days before the rise of Parganas. 'My father knew much,' he said. 'But he told us little - so little that I cannot truly be sure that he really did know what I thought he knew.'

Ghastin's answer was no more helpful. 'The elves have burned the past with fire,' was all he would say.

That night the wind picked up, and very few of the sailors found sleep for all the rocking of the ships. One of the Snakil-made boats sank in the night, and three of their spearmen drowned. The sun rose the next morning only to hide itself behind a gray sky. 'Treacherous is the wind at sea,' Bralohi said as the elves took council on the deck of the Fatewind. Pelas stood before them with a deep resolve evident in his face.

'Treacherous is Lord Pelas,' the spirit Folly whispered to the lord of the elves. 'If Fate is with you, then what can stop you? If it is not, then let the storm take you and be done with it!'

Pelas repeated these words as if they were his own, much to the horror of his servants.

Lohi shook his head and took a seat. He did not think there would be any reasoning with a man who could say such things.

Bralohi was not so ready to give up, though, and he argued with Pelas well into the afternoon.

'The birds have all forsaken the sky, my lord,' he pointed out. 'They have gone to seek shelter on the island, and so we ought also to do. There is a harbor on the far side of the Great Isle. Our fleet - most of our fleet at least, can find safety there.'

'Glory!' Folly hissed in Pelas' ear.

'We did not set sail for safety, Bralohi,' he answered. 'We set sail for glory. You, however, can take your ship to the harbor if you must have safety rather than honor.'

'My lord,' Bralohi said, his face red with anger, 'I offer my counsel; hear it, mock it, send me to life or to death, but do not think that I will abandon your side.'

Pelas seemed satisfied with his reply. He turned to the others with a look as fearless as the coming storm. 'Are there any others who fear the storm? We hunt the Serpent of Thunder - we must sail into a storm before long. If we have not the courage to face the lightning of the sky, how shall we face the lighting of the monster?'

This point seemed to silence the rest of them. It was true enough; they would not face the monster but in a thunderstorm. 'It is hard to act in uncertainty,' Amro said. 'But if you are certain, lord Pelas, then we will follow you.' He did not seem nearly as conciliatory as Bralohi had sounded.

Pelas paid him little heed.

The Red Waters

Every face was bewildered when the order was given, that the fleet would sail on the morrow, rain or shine, thunderstorm or calm. The night was peaceful enough. The wind still raged through the night, but the morning was calm. Sails were dropped and the fleet began to move away from the islands. The Fatewind took the lead, and set sail toward the darkest patch of sky, where the clouds seemed to hang low over the water. 'That is him!' Jarot squealed with mad enthusiasm.

Pelas nodded. There was no reason to believe the old man, but he was quite beyond reason.

'Thank you, brother,' Death said as he and Folly watched the fleet move out. 'It must have been very difficult for you to speak sense to him.'

'Not at all,' Folly said with a grand bow. If they were not both standing upon the wind his forehead would have touched the floor. His white robes flapped about wildly with each gust. Death's robes were untroubled, as if the wind itself feared to perturb him. 'What I spoke would have been nonsense in any other circumstance - so it all came out quite naturally.'

'Three days more,' was all that Death said in reply.

In accordance with Death's words, the fleet chased after the storm for three days. 'This at least should win for us a place in the histories,' Kolohi thought as he considered how strange it was for sailors to seek stormy seas. On the third day the storm seemed almost to weary of its flight; it turned with a fury and its wind struck the sails of the ships with great force. Three of the Snakil ships lost their mainmasts in that gust, and most of the other sailors believed their own masts would soon follow. The wind carried dark clouds over the fleet and the afternoon became like evening. Bolts of lighting danced through the air in great rivers of power, their thunder following their flashes without any delay or hesitation. Lightning ripped past Pelas' ship, striking the boat beside him - a Knariss ship whose crew would never return to Sunlan.

Just over three bowshots ahead a great spine shot up from the sea. The water began to swell, rising into a great mound as some great form pushed the water aside. The swell grew until it was taller than the highest mast. Every eye watched in awe as the Serpent's head appeared. Lightning struck its many spines as it rose from the deep and flashes of light streamed down from the spines into the monster's mouth before pouring out like a river of pure might. The light danced through the fleet, setting ships aflame and burning men to ashes where they stood.

'Harpoons!' Pelas shouted, his voice all but drowned out by the thunder. 'Drop the boats; prepare the lines. On my command - do not strike until I give the command!'

Nearly two dozen of the ships were all but wrecked, their sailors striving with all their might to keep afloat, or to clamber onto another vessel. Sol's ship was soon teeming with soaking wet Snakil men.

'Into the boats!' Falruvis shouted from the deck of the Dadiiron. The order resounded throughout the ship. Amro looked to Ghastin and nodded. Dalia stood at their side with her sword hanging at her waist and a harpoon in her hand.

'Remember, Dalele,' Amro said with a nervous smile. 'All the gold in the world will not serve you, nor will it comfort your beloved if you fail to return. Your reward shall be great, Dalele, do not lose it for the sake of glory.'

'What will it profit me to come into the arms of my beloved if to do so I must cease to be she whom he loved? I will act as I have always acted. I will not let a soul perish that needn't perish, so that I may have my own satisfactions.'

'You are the daughter of Ele through and through, Dalele,' Amro said proudly.

Ghastin said nothing, but the gleam in his eye said the same. Both men stood beside her like a king's sentinels, ready to lay down their life in an instant if it would save her from danger.

'To the boats!' Falruvis repeated, dropping over the side of the ship into a large rowboat.

Alsley rested his hand on the rail, looking longingly at all the spears and ropes, the boats and the sailors.

'Keep her afloat, Alsley,' Falruvis said as he pushed the boat away from the Dadiiron. Six Snakil oarsmen worked against the perilous waves to push their master toward what seemed to them to be utter destruction. He took a harpoon into his hand and tested the weight. 'Forward!' he ordered, as if there was aught more the men could do.

Amro and Ghastin took to another boat, along with two Knariss sailors and three Snakil warriors. Dalele entered the boat last, eschewing Ghastin's offer of help. 'This is not a lady's carriage,' she laughed.

'Forgive a man his bad habits,' Ghastin said with a nod.

'Habits?' she laughed. 'Since when have you been a gentleman?'

Ghastin looked out over the leaping waves in the direction of the Serpent. 'Now is as good a time as any to begin,' he said.

Soon the waters were teeming with tiny boats filled with warriors, oarsmen, ropes and harpoons. The Serpent stood like a tower over the water, burning them away with streams of light. Rain poured down so fiercely that Dalia almost thought she was already sinking beneath the surface. In a few minutes every sailor was soaked through to the skin.

The Thunder Snake raged, thrashing about in the water, its jaws opening wide as if it meant to swallow the fleet whole. Several foolish Knarissmen grew impatient and thrust their harpoons into the Serpent's flesh, piercing its neck. The Serpent rose from the sea in anger and pain, lifting the tiny boats from the water's surface, spilling the men into the raging waters. It was all anyone could do to keep their own ships afloat; no one thought of rescue, and no one hoped. Every man then realized, if they had not known it already, that this creature was as mighty as the Grave itself.

Pelas had escaped the monster before; and that alone was fateful enough for him to sail out to meet the monster with confidence that his lot would not be limited by that which was common to others. For this moment at least, he knew that his hand turned the wheel of the world. 'This time I shall not escape,' Pelas said, 'but neither shall I flee.'

The Serpent rose still higher above the water, its neck arched and its great jaws widened, preparing to swallow the Fatewind as it dove beneath the surface. Pelas ordered the ship to move, and it turned away just as the Serpent's head broke through the foaming sea with its bulky body in tow.

The splash of his descent was enough to overturn more than twenty ships. The Snakil vessels were almost all broken in some way. The rough seas alone were more than they were made to handle. The ships of the Knariss and the elves bore the turmoil much better. Many of the smaller boats were tossed and shattered against one another. But there were still a great multitude of them floating about in the water.

The thunder ceased for a minute, and the wind grew calm as the Monster swam below the fleet. No man stirred and no one made a sound. The Serpent was beyond their reach now, and he could flee from them, or come against them from below. Pelas grew pale with fear, not at the thought of death, but with the knowledge that the creature might escape him. No such thing had ever happened before to any man of the sea. It was enough to bring his name great fame and glory, and undying recognition - he had made the mighty Thunder Snake run away. Certainly no man would ever do such a thing for as long as the world endured. But yet this was not the purpose for which Pelas had set forth. He knew that he could die - he did not dwell on it. And he knew that he could have remained in Sunlan, and perhaps even someday overthrow King Ijjan and take his place on the throne, and thereby secure for himself the rule of Alwan also. Then he would be the first true King of Bel Albor, ruling from coast to coast, and from the North Forest to the Southern Seas. His mother's praises haunted him, however, and he knew that such accomplishments would not suffice - he was not a man whose steps would be ruled by Fate - not even should Fate bring him honors and wealth. He would take Fate within his own hands, and make destiny do his bidding. He prayed, he willed, he shut his eyes and called out to the monster in his mind. 'Do not leave me!' he shouted, almost in tears, sounding almost like a child pleading with their parent.

As if hearing his call, more than thirty great spikes rose from the water together as the Serpent wound its way through the fleet. The spikes shattered even the Sunlan built ships with ease as all the force of the giant creature cut into their hulls. Lighting leaped from the spikes to the clouds and from the clouds again down into the sea. Fires burst out everywhere, and more men and elves were lost to the dark depths of the sea.

After a time the monster vanished again only to rise a few moments later with a Knariss ship in its jaws. The ship and the monster rose high into the air until they both vanished from sight. The ship broke into a thousand pieces and the sailors fell screaming into the jaws of the snake. The Serpent continued to rise, its speed beyond anything that could have been expected from so large a creature. In a frightful moment the sailors saw its final spike rise from the depths as the creature left the water altogether. The sky darkened beneath its bulk and for a moment the creature flew. He was not the Master of the Air. In a moment he crashed down again, splintering a hundred ships, and sending the tiny boats spinning.

When he vanished again Lord Pelas cried out, 'The fool beast has not fled! Kill him now. When again he rises, sink your teeth into him - be the beast and not the prey! Kill him! Ready your spears! Ready the harpoons. All of us! Together. Slay him! I am not Pelas; I am nothing. Together we are mightier even than he. Together we are a god, even mightier than the god of the sea. Together we are Pelas!' It all would have sounded absurd to men who were not, as these men stood, in utter chaos and danger. The elves rallied, the Snakil chanted and screamed and the Knariss mechanically obeyed their lords commands. The harpoons were prepared, the spears were raised, and every eye was fixed upon the water. A great swell rose from the water again, and lighting poured out of the creature's gaping mouth. Its great eyes were full of rage, and many hearts turned to water as the creature glanced cunningly from ship to ship. To have such an eye fixed upon you is to know death. But Death was not on the side of the Serpent this time.

Two hundred harpoons pierced the Serpent's neck almost at once. The beast flung its head back in rage and agony as red blood poured from its body in torrents. He swung his head left and right, trying to break free of the ropes and chains by which he was now bound to the tiny boats and to the Sunlan ships. Many of the ropes broke, and some of the ships were broken or overturned by his remonstrance. But the lines, by and large, held him fast. He made to dive again, his head plunging beneath the water. The Fatewind itself was nearly dragged beneath the water with the Dadiiron ready to follow in its path. The boats proved to be enough, and the monster's head bobbed back up to the surface, held there by all the ropes. Thunder streamed from his spikes like water springing from many fountains. Fires burst forth from the ships, and the pouring rain was not enough to quench them. Still the creature could not dive below the surface. A hundred more spears and harpoons pierced him, and ropes were cast around the spikes. Men drew closer and struck him with every weapon they could. Arrows soon peppered the monster's eyes and spears stood out upon its back like trees in a thick forest. The whole sea seemed to be red with its blood.

The monster was not yet beaten, however. It swirled about in a rage, dragging the boats with it in a mad spin through the water. The ropes wrapped around its neck and the ships were pulled toward one another, some smashing to pieces as they collided with the others.

Amro's ship was bound to the monster by six well-thrown javelins. But the beast rose from the waters, hoping to free itself with another dive. As it rose, the tiny boats were lifted from the water as well. The boat was bound to the monster by strong ropes, and now Ghastin and his brother were clutching these ropes to save themselves from death. Dalia slipped from their grasp, falling from the boat into the water. 'Dalele!' Ghastin roared. But she was not to be seen.

The salt stung Dalia's eyes as she struck the water. For a long while she could not see anything at all, and she was tossed about helplessly in the crashing water. So much rope was now tied to the monster that she was able to catch hold of one and pull herself from the water. She clung to the creature's immense neck, the waves crashing into its flesh just beneath her feet. Beneath the surface she could see its mighty coils passing beneath, undulating to keep the beast at the surface.

Inspiration came over her, and she left behind the lady to become a warrior such as has rarely appeared in the world. She pushed her feet against the monster, pulling a spear from its flesh. She found footing upon the shaft of another spear and with all her might she thrust the spear along with the rope bound to it into the water to strike the creature as part of it passed close beneath her. Her throw was true and strong, and the spear pierced the creature nearer to its hindquarters. As the monster pulled its tail through the water the rope pulled, and Dalia was pulled with it. Ere she descended into the cold water, however, she drew her sword and thrust it deep into the creature's neck, the dwarf-steel parting the scales easily. The monster's own strength pulled at her and she slid down the monster's bulk, cutting a great gash into its neck as the beast swam. Forty feet long was the cut she made; and she could scarcely maintain her grip on the sword as she was dragged through the water. But the fatal wound was made, and the monster's blood poured from its body like a river, darkening the surface of the sea. Rather than diving below and crushing Amro, Ghastin and every other soul among them beneath its bulk, the Serpent coiled back and gave one final thrash before losing its vigor to the wound she had inflicted upon it. In an instant the sea was calm, and the monster lay before them, its lungs deflating for one final time as its spirit passed away into the air.

There was a moment of stunned silence, where no man knew what to say or think. They still could not believe what had just transpired. In a short while a chorus of voices cried out, 'Cutha Dalelis Marineis! The Sword of Dalia the Mariner!' To this chorus Bralohi quickly added, 'Praise Pelas Parganais, the Slayer of the Thunder Snake!'

The people were so relieved to still draw breath, and so taken by the moment that they fell into this new round of praises without thought. In accordance with what Pelas had just said of them - that they were, together, mighty as a god - their praises were for themselves as much as for their lord. But Pelas, quickly forgetting his own words, received all the praise as unto himself personally. It is said that in that moment, when Fate brought him victory over the Thunder Snake, he fully and finally turned against his brother. He did not even think of Agonas at that moment, or wonder how he had fared in his quest against the Beast of the Earth. But he thought so much of himself then that there was now no longer any room for a rival. He was a god, and his brother would not share in his glory.

[Chapter IX:  
Reunion](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

To her lover's arms she returned,

To find his passion bright still burned,

Then swore they their eternal love,

Beneath the starry host above.

And when in ages later came,

Fell Vantu to defile her name,

Her lover, filled with mournful ire,

Slew him, his sword a venging fire.

Though lovers both have passed away,

The stars above still hold their sway,

Over the land on which they fought,

And by their trials true love wrought.

Smoke at Grenost

The elves and the Knariss, along with what remained of the Snakil, labored through the night by the light of torches to secure the Serpent's great bulk to the ships. Sharks were drawn by the thousands, and soon the whole sea was teaming with the carrion of the deeps. Every creature seemed to want to get its fill of their former master. 'There will be nothing for the Snakil to feast upon,' Sol said as he considered the size of the monster. 'We will be lucky if we can save any of it.'

'We must save the head at the very least,' Pelas demanded. 'Cut the rest loose if you must. I will not lose the head with the body for trying to save the whole. Take the head and fasten it to the Fatewind. Cut the rest loose for the sharks.'

The sailors spent the rest of that day cutting great pieces of flesh, breaking the spikes off to load into the ships, and separating the creature's mighty head from the rest of its body. The meat by and large went to the Snakil, who devoured it enthusiastically, thinking it would in some way render them divine. The Knariss took every drop of oil, every length of bone, and every hardened scale they could remove and stored them carefully upon their ships. But in the end the creature was released, its headless corpse sinking into the depths, the sharks following it with their hungry mouths gaping. The wrecks were taken to pieces and the survivors were distributed among the ships that remained. The Dadiiron had been struck by lightning, but the rain had put out the flames almost as soon as they had started. 'We were fortunate,' Falruvis said to Alsley.

But when Pelas described his own ship's escape from the many perils it had faced he said, 'Fate was with us.'

By the third day there was nothing more to be done. They left their wreckage and their dead and began the return voyage to Grenost. Less than a hundred ships remained of their fleet. But this was more than Pelas had expected to save. As they sailed back he fell into fits of wild laughter, and shouted curses and blessings up into the heavens.

'Does he wish to summon the Fire Bird?' Ghastin said, shaking his head as he watched their leader from the deck of the Dadiiron.

'Pray, brother,' Amro said seriously, 'that the Fire Bird at least is but a fable.'

When the fleet drew near to Grenost their joy was stolen away. The whole fortress was a ruin, and small whisps of smoke danced about in the wind. 'This is nearly a week old,' Kolohi said as they went ashore. The Snakil sailed on to their own harbors with the meat of the Serpent dried and spiced, and ready to be sold. The elves and the Knariss, however, rummaged through the ruins in search of anything that might be of value. All their gold, and all that they had pillaged from Dominas had been taken away. 'We are left with a rotting skull, then,' Bralohi complained, looking out over the water at the Serpent's head. It had proved too large to carry on any one of the ships. They had secured it with chains and ropes to the Dadiiron and to the Fatewind, and to a number of smaller ships besides. Now it was naught but a skull, the flesh having been stripped away by sharks.

Ghastin vanished from the beach as soon as they landed, and did not return until after dark. He returned with a group of Snakilmen, and was busy for the rest of the evening upon the Dadiiron. He would speak to nobody, and he went to sleep before anyone else boarded the ship. He seemed rather satisfied with this turn of events, however.

'Who did this?' Dalia asked the others. 'Not the Snakil,' she said firmly, shaking her head in astonishment.

'Nor the Lakil,' Sol said thoughtfully. 'We have done nothing to wrong either of them.'

'You think this to be retaliation, then? Retaliation for a wrong?' Pelas did not seem to appreciate the implications of such an idea.

'Just have been all the deeds of Lord Pelas,' Sol answered carefully, 'But justice, to the unjust, is unjust, and so they would feel the need for revenge, though they would not have the right to it.'

'It was the Magi,' Amro said confidently.

'How can you know such a thing?' Pelas asked.

'Because they are the most unjust, and so your justice would seem quite unjust indeed,' the smith replied.

He exchanged an understanding glance with Sol, but nobody else dared acknowledge their mockery.

'What shall we do, my lord?' Oblis asked, as if there was anything that could be done about it.

'Shall we exact revenge against them?' Cheru asked.

'We can hardly accept such a turn without response,' Pelas said. 'They will learn that they have struggled against a god ere the end.'

'Shall I set out to find Agonas?' Amro said after a pause.

Pelas' head turned faster than lightning, 'What do you mean?' He had all but forgotten that he had a brother. 'Why should you seek Agonas?' Pelas asked incredulously.

'If we have need of his strength, my lord, it would not do for us to let him return to Sunlan without having news of our contest with the Tower.'

Pelas seemed suddenly very nervous.

'We are Immortals,' Pelas said firmly. 'We shall make the Tower pay in blood for what they have done and pay in full for what they have taken from us. Make no mistake, my companions,' he said resolutely, 'I will see the Tower fall into the ocean; I swear it by all the gods of heaven. Mark it, my friends, for it is truth.'

But this was all his way of distracting them from the fact that he suddenly felt an urgency to return to Sunlan before his brother. 'Who knows,' he thought to himself when all the others had returned to their ships for the night, leaving him, Cheru and Oblis upon the shore, 'perhaps he is already in Sunlan, wed to Indra, and earning the favor of Ijjan.'

'Curse him!' Pelas said coldly.

Beyond Duty

Captain Proud had been summoned to the Tower on the first day of Frohest. This meant one of two things, as Proud understood: it meant either that one was to be executed, or it meant that they were to be taken into the Tower. The latter turn of events only happened to the most promising of youths, however, and it had been thirty years since Proud could have been considered a youth. He had never been considered promising. He also knew that, when summoned to the Tower, there was no defending yourself - there was no trial and only one possible verdict. 'I might as well give it a shot, though,' he thought to himself. 'All things must have a first.'

He had been charged with the defense of Lapulia's waters and had on many occasions confronted the elves of Grenost as they plundered the coastal towns of Dominas. He dared not bring his fleet of Fireships beyond the South Isles, which marked the edge of Lapulia's naval influence. Those waters were treacherous, and one could easily be taken by surprise if an enemy fleet hid itself among the isles. It was far better to avoid the eastern shore of Dominas altogether.

The setting forth of so great a fleet as Pelas had departed with could not go undiscovered by the Magic Tower. Captain Proud was sent to investigate, but he, in addition to investigating, burned Grenost to the ground with fire and took everything that was of value. The elves returned, licking their wounds and dragging the carcass of the Serpent to find their home of nearly three years a smoldering ruin.

Captain Proud returned with his ships filled to the brim with treasure and to the sound of singing in the streets. The people of Lapulia saw the elves as nothing more than pirates, and when they saw the return of so much wealth to the Magic City they could not be calmed. Before this adulation had gone on long, however, he received a summons to the Tower. 'Captain Proud, report to the Tower,' was all the message said. His heart seemed to freeze within his chest as he read it, nervously brushing his fingers through his gray hair.

The Tower was originally built in the center of the city, but the long years had stripped most of the old city away, leaving the Tower standing above the flooded ruins alone. A great causeway extended from the land and connected the Tower to the mainland. No man knew who had built the Tower. It was older even than the ruins over which it stood, and the oldest histories were filled with legends - much to the frustration of the Magi, who attempted in every way to purge themselves and their people of superstition. This latter fact kept gnawing at Captain Proud's patience; for the Black Adder seemed to speak as though there was a prophet among their numbers, but such a thing was, by their own doctrines, an impossibility.

The entire Tower is made of Moonshade, the strong, black stone that once gave the idol of Agonas in Amlaman both its beauty and its terrors. It is said that the stones can only be found beneath the city of Lapulia, but little effort was made to quarry the stone unless the Tower was in need of repair. The fact that this material made its way to Stena-Agona can only be explained by the fact that my ancestors were willing to do just about anything - even encourage superstitious devil-worship - if only they could overthrow Almighty Dadron. For they recognized the name of the city, and they knew its master Falruvis from their histories.

The lowest levels of the Tower were all but unknown to even the Magi. No man knew what lay beneath the old city; and the Tower's lowest levels plunged deep into the heart of the earth. The main entrance to the Magic Tower was on the eastern side. There was a great archway that had been carved from what was once just another one of the Tower's many rounded windows. At some time, presumably after the old city was flooded, this window was expanded and reshaped to serve as the primary entrance to the Tower. There was an elaborately confusing system of ladders and walkways built into the side of the Tower so that it would be possible to ascend and enter the Tower through other passages. But these walkways were so confounding that they were only used under the most dire of circumstances.

A great wooden door stood at the end of the causeway, barring entrance into the Tower. There was also, Proud knew, a gate of Adamant that could be lowered if the need should arise. But the Tower had nothing to fear from him. The wooden door would be more than sufficient to bar his path.

As he stood before the door he heard a strange whirring and soon the doors began to slide away of their own accord, leaving him standing on the threshold of the Tower in amazement. After some hesitation he stepped inside. The doors swung closed as soon as he was clear of the doorway, but he still had not seen another soul. For some time he stood bewildered in the entryway. There were several stone benches along the rounded tower walls, each equally distant one from the other. In the center there was a great spiraling staircase curving toward the righthand side as it climbed up into the sky. Proud shuddered to think that men actually ascended these stairs all the way to the top of the Tower. The calm sunlight that slipped into the Tower through its rounded windows did little to relieve the feeling he had that there was something immensely powerful above him. Whether he in some way perceived the great weight of the structure as it hung over his head, or whether he thought of the power of the Magi he did not know. He swallowed nervously and began to wonder if he was meant to go upstairs. Before he could make any such decision he heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

He was greeted by a servant, a pale skinned youth of about nineteen years. 'Training to be a Black Adder no doubt,' Proud thought to himself. The boy looked like a serpent to him in his movements. There was a school of sorts within the Tower, a vast library that occupied seventeen entire floors of the structure, and even something of an infirmary. It was said, however, that this was not the place to bring the sick unless there was no other alternative.

He followed the boy up three flights of stairs to reach a floor very much like the one by which he had entered the Tower. Here, however, there were scrolls and parchments stacked up high on wooden desks, and there were men with quills and ink laboring over piles of notes and books. The Black Adder called Thann stood just five paces from the entryway, as if he had been expecting Proud to arrive at that very instant. As if to make it clear just how serious this meeting would be, he dismissed the men as servants and told the youth to, 'Tell the Magi what has happened.'

Proud opened his mouth to speak, but Thann began before he so much as made a sound.

'What have you done!?' Thann hissed, his eyes bulging with anger.

'I have done only what any good man of Lapulia would have done,' Proud replied. 'For years they have been a thorn in our foot, bleeding the people of Lapulia dry, terrorizing our ports and villages and giving succor to our enemies.'

'And you thought that the Tower was not wise enough to decide what ought to be done? Do you not understand?' Thann said with frustration. 'The Tower commands what it commands, and it always commands what is the best course. To do more is as foolish as to do less.'

'Shall their evils go unpunished? Shall they leave our land enriched, to speak of their good fortune among the Sunlanders - and tell them of how we combine great learning with great softness, great wealth with great carelessness, and great power with great folly. Did you not see the people react? How they rejoiced at our coming? Did you not see how they were given hope and peace, knowing that Lapulia has its protectors?' He knew as soon as he had spoken that his temper had gotten the better of him. He swallowed, and he felt as though all the color in his face drained down his throat and knotted in his stomach. He must look as pale as the Tower-dwellers, he thought.

'It is the enthusiasm of the people alone that stays our hand, Captain,' Thann said coldly. 'The Tower would see your blood but for their love of you. The Tower protects the people. The Tower, however, does not sacrifice the future for the present. From atop the heights of this Tower the Magi sees far - he sees farther than those upon the ground. In the same way, the Magi, whose wisdom beholds the stars themselves, stands higher, and sees farther than the minds of ordinary men. What you have done shall endanger all that we have striven for since the ancient days. The Tower strives after certainty, but your actions have thrown everything into doubt. Where we would have had a fact, we are left with a riddle.'

'Again you speak like a Snakilman,' Proud said, his courage renewed. 'What riddle? And how should you come to it? Has the Magi been consulting with oracles and seers?'

'He who understands the past is as good as a prophet,' was all the explanation that Thann would give. 'As for the riddle, it has been said that from your line shall rise the savior of Lapulia: He who shall break the Tower asunder.'

Captain Proud stepped back fearfully, his eyes darting from side to side as he considered what Thann had said. 'This,' he said, fear tightening around his throat, 'this is a prophecy?' He would not have feared such words if they had come from anyone other than one of the Black Adder. If a drunk or a fool reported a fable, in his drunkenness or his folly you can rest easy. But the Black Adder, whatever else they might be, were not fools, and they were forbidden to drink wine or any other kind of strong drink.

'This has been foreseen,' Thann answered flatly.

The Return to Sunlan

There was naught for the elves to do now but return, with the monstrous jaws of the Thunder Snake as their only trophy. The Snakil were promised the undying gratitude and support of the elves and the Knariss were promised rewards from Ijjan's treasury. The elves were under no such illusions. They knew that the only thing this voyage was likely to have procured for them was the appreciation of Lord Pelas, the value of which was openly doubted by many of them.

'You are taking this rather well,' Dalia marveled, when she saw how little Ghastin reacted to this turn of events. Falruvis had called a gathering of those elves who had sailed with him aboard the Dadiiron. He would not go against his master by informing the Knariss of how little they would receive in payment for their troubles. But he could not lie to the elves, most of whom had come because they had been faithful to Pelas since the days he ruled over Ilvas. 'There is no gold, my brothers, he told them. We must again content ourselves that we have done all in the service of Parganas' son. If Ijjan sees fit to open his treasures to us, so be it; but expect nothing, and demand less. We have done what no other has nor could do, and every one of you is a hero for it, worthy of song.'

Ghastin stood behind all the others with his arms crossed and a hint of a grin appearing on his face. 'You expected this from the beginning,' Dalia said accusingly. 'You never expected a reward.'

Ghastin shrugged, but said nothing.

Amro smiled and gave his brother a slight push, saying, 'Ghastin has already received his reward. He has seen elvish faces filled with resignation and defeat.'

'Brother,' Ghastin said, feigning injury, 'How could you think that I would be satisfied with such a thing?'

'I cannot tell which of you is the more treacherous sometimes,' Dalia said. The three of them continued to make light of things, but in truth the laughter began to wear on Dalia, who had come on the voyage, not for any love of Pelas, but to satisfy her father's cruel demands upon her beloved.

'Do not worry, Dalele,' Ghastin assured her. 'Your father will not hold to his demand. He will be so pleased with your return that he will reward you with gold from his own stores. He will not forbid your marriage now that you have proven yourself a hero.'

Dalia sniffed, 'I don't want his treasure, nor do I want his permission. His cruelty led me to this.' Tears filled her eyes as she thought about the scars upon her back. Her nostrils flared with anger and she said, 'I do not wish for his mercy, Ghastin. I would sooner see him dead upon the ground.'

'Nevertheless, Dalele,' Ghastin said, his eyes deadly serious, 'worry not about your father or his treasures, or your own lack thereof. I swear you shall have your reward.'

She could get him to say no more on the matter, but he did not swear anything lightly.

On the twelfth day of Paschest the fleet of Pelas came within sight of Sunlan. By that evening the seventy ships they had remaining were docked and the crews disembarked. Each sailor was given a share of what wealth remained, enough for a man and his family to live comfortably for about a year. Pelas had prudently set aside some gold before his departure for just such a turn of events. They were not pleased, but they had no claim against him, and they departed without complaint.

The streets of Evnai were filled with people, both men and elves, some coming to greet their relatives, others to see the marvel that now stood in the port. The great skull of the Thunder Snake was lowered carefully from the ship and placed upon a platform in the center of the city where a great many people came to see it. Some were so overcome by its size that they swooned in the street where they stood. All over the city people shook their heads and marveled, saying, 'I cannot believe it!'

Pelas sent messengers to Sunlan Palace, declaring his return to Ijjan and swearing his undying obedience to Evnai, the Goddess of Sunlan.

Dalia left the ship and stepped back into the land of her birth without anyone to greet her or without any special notice. No message had been sent to Sunlan, so there was no way for word to have come to Thuruvis about their returning. Most of the Knariss sailors dwelt in Evnai, and by the evening they had all returned to their homes and families. But she did not wish to see her home. If she saw her father she was afraid that she might lose all control of her anger - and she was fairly certain that this time she would not need to rely upon his sympathies to best him with a sword. 'I am scarcely the woman who left; how can I claim to be the one he loved?' she thought to herself. Her spirit sunk.

Amro took her by the arm and led her through crowded streets. Somehow she found herself in an inn called the Sun's Herald. She could not have said where Amro went when he left her, but she suddenly came to herself as she sat there on the bed, gripping the hilt of her sword. As she undressed for bed her fingers slid over the rough scars upon her shoulders. 'I am a ruin now,' she said aloud. 'And how am I to face my father, having accomplished nothing.' Rage and sorrow took turns tormenting her soul as she tossed about beneath her blankets, fighting with all her might for the peace of sleep.

She knew not how long she had slept when there came a loud knocking at her door. Amro was already fully clothed and ready to travel. 'Shall we go, then, Dalele?' he asked. 'Your mother will desire to see you.'

'Have messengers been sent to Centan yet?' Dalia asked.

'I do not think so,' he answered. 'In Sunlan you inform the King before you inform his captains, unless it is a matter of war or some other great danger. She will hear as soon as the messengers to Ijjan's court deliver their account and are sent out again to summon Pelas to his master.'

'I wonder how pleased Ijjan will be with what we have returned with,' Dalia said, yawning.

'He was undoubtedly hoping the Pelas would have drowned beneath the ocean,' Amro laughed. 'But the head of the Serpent should enhance the reputation of Sunlan enough for him to be contented.'

'And my father will surely be contented with my return,' she muttered.

'I am sure that is the case,' Amro said. 'Come. Let us go to him.'

'I cannot go to Centan,' she said grimly. 'I am afraid of what I might do when I see his disgusting face!' As she spoke each word she grew angrier and angrier, until the last word was very nearly a shout.'

'He is not at Centan,' Amro said. 'He has resigned his command there, and now battles the goblins of the Talon Mountains.'

Her brows drew close together and she turned her head to look at him in confusion. 'What happened?'

'I do not know if anything happened,' Amro said, 'But this is what I have been told. No doubt as soon as the messengers reach him he will make for Centan, expecting you to return thither to see your mother.'

'Let him,' Dalia said coldly, allowing her rage to cool into a hard indifference. 'I will not go there.'

'Come,' Amro said, nearly commanding her, 'See your mother, and then go where you wish. If we leave now we can surely reach Centan before he arrives.'

'Where is Thuruvis?' she asked suddenly.

Amro said nothing for a moment, and looked down at his feet.

'Tell me at once!' she demanded. 'What has happened?'

'I do not know,' Amro said firmly. 'But he is in the Talons as well. That is all that I have been able to learn. Nothing more has been said.'

'They are in the Talons together?' she said in confusion.

'I do not know if they are together,' Amro said, shifting his feet as he spoke. 'The Talons are very large.'

Dalia shook her head in annoyance, 'I know how large the Talons are, Amro. But there are only so many forts; it would be very unlikely that they do not cross paths now and again.'

'I do not know what to say aside from the fact that I understand it no better than you.'

She shook her head. She could only think that somehow her father had threatened Thuruvis and thereby compelled him to serve him. But she still could not puzzle out what might have brought the two of them into the mountains.

'Dalele,' Amro said, interrupting her thoughts. 'If we leave at once, we can see your mother, and perhaps learn more of these strange tidings. But if we tarry even for a day, your father will probably reach Centan before us.'

'Very well,' she said. She shut the door and threw a dress over her nightgown, quickly fastening a belt at her waist. For a moment she hesitated as she considered her two swords, the one fit for court and the other fit for war. She could defeat her father easily with either blade, she knew. With her old blade she could make the insult all the more painful, as it was a woman's blade through and through. But with her new sword she could make it clear that she was in every respect his equal. In the end she chose to wear the sword that Amro had made for her in Grenost. 'Cutha Dalelis Marineis!' she said loudly as she held it up to the window. For a moment she was once again a fierce woman of the sea; the slayer of the Thunder Snake, hero of Sunlan. She sheathed the sword and shook her head. She would have to leave all such denominations behind her. 'How shall he accept me as such a creature?' she thought to herself. 'I am like a man now; I am not a gentle thing.' But somewhere deep within she knew that Thuruvis would still love her, with the scars and with the sword. She brushed her hair and tied it back with a blue ribbon.

Laughing, she made her way from her room and down the stairs to the dining room. After a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, ham and toasted bread the two of them departed. 'Where is Ghastin?' she said, suddenly realizing that in her distress she had not thought of him.

'He has gone ahead to Centan.'

'For what purpose?' Dalia asked.

'He told me nothing,' Amro shrugged.

The two elves made their way from Evnai to Centan without difficulty. They crossed the Esthalon and made their way through a quiet land of falling leaves and gentle hills. Dalia marveled at the many colored leaves as the brisk wind blew them from the trees. It was not very cold for that time of year, but to those who had spent the past three years in the sun baked south it felt like the depths of winter. 'And they call this land Sunlan,' Amro mused.

Dalia could not find humor in anything now. She worried about what she might say when she at last encountered her father. She did not even know what she would say to her mother Ele. But most of her unease came from a growing desire to once again see the face of Thuruvis her beloved. She had missed him greatly, but now that she was in a familiar land his absence struck her all the more strongly.

They came at last to Centan on the fifteenth day of Paschest. The city looked much as it had ever looked. There was a great multitude of guards at the ready; prepared to march in any direction should an enemy imperil the land. Seeing them stand so proud and brave in their uniforms brought tender memories of her love to her mind. Tears streamed down her face as she rode, but she did not quite weep. In her eyes was a smoldering fire, waiting for some little gust of wind to turn it into a blaze.

The guards did not recognize her at first, for she stood tall and proud, and she was not adorned like the daughter of an elf lord. But when she spoke, and when they had taken a good look at her face, they let her pass. 'None could so resemble the lord Dalta without being kin,' the captain of the guards said, waving them on and bowing his head in welcome. They rode on, coming at last to the fortress that had been her home for all these years.

Amro tilted his head, pointing at the front gate. 'Come,' he said firmly.

The Messenger

The first elf to hear of the return of Lord Pelas, in fact, was Thuruvis. The servants of Pelas and his brother had not been idle in all the time that their masters had been away. They had labored to procure for the elves of Ilvas as many positions of command as was possible. They told their people to swear any oath, endure any test, if only they could persuade the King and people of Sunlan to put power into their hands. Whether it was one gaining the master's seat in the shipwrights' guild or another becoming a captain in the palace of Sunlan, Dalta and Thuruvis labored day and night to find ways for their own servants to acquire sway and authority.

They primarily accomplished this by bringing Ilvasen, as they were often called in those days, into the Talons to battle the goblins. In truth there were not many goblins in those mountains by that time, but there were also no eyes or ears, and the Ilvasen could invent any story they wished, and send as many Ilvasen back to Sunlan as heroes and defenders of Ijjan's land. In gratitude for their labors, they were given positions of importance, and placed in command of armies.

The Nook had become the center for all their efforts, as it was remote enough that the Ilvasen could plot and plan as much as they liked without worrying about being discovered by their enemies. 'You could shout our plans from the Head of the Snake, but the Nookmen would not understand, and the Sunlanders would not hear,' Dalta laughed.

They had also begun gathering arms to this quiet mountain land. Men were recruited from all over the Talon mountains and trained in warfare secretly. They were then put on patrols in the Talons and tested against what goblins could be found. It was not a great force, but Agonas' Dark Order did not call for great numbers - he only demanded secrecy.

To prepare for the return of the sons of Parganas, Dalta had ordered that a watch be kept upon the docks, and that a report should be sent to him immediately upon the return of their fleet. He did not expect them to return separately, however. And if he had thought that only one of them would return, he would have wagered that it would have been Agonas to succeed where Pelas could not. But the plan could work well enough for either brother. It would be easy enough to persuade Pelas that the idea had been his own, and not an order from his rival.

'Is the lady Dalele among them?' Thuruvis asked the messenger, his voice torn between urgency and trepidation. 'Is she well?'

'I saw her for but a moment, my lord,' the messenger said. 'She was walking by herself - on her own two legs, but that is as much as I can say. I have no reason to think she is not well.'

'And you say they actually slew the monster?' Dalta said with great wonder.

'The Thunder Snake, they called it. Lord Pelas has brought its skull to Evnai Port and placed it in the center of the city. And it is a sight to see. Nobody can doubt his might now.'

Thuruvis and Dalta looked at one another doubtfully. This is precisely the reason the sons of Parganas had been sent away. Now that Pelas had made himself a hero, he was even more of a threat to Ijjan's power.

'And what of his brother?' Dalta asked. 'Has Agonas returned as well?'

'Nobody has heard aught of him in more than two years,' the messenger replied. 'More than that none can say.'

'Pelas will not move against Ijjan if he is wed to Indra,' Dalta assured the other elf, when they were at last alone once more in the dining hall of Mara's Inn. The inn had become something of a headquarters for the elves as they planned and plotted according to Agonas' commands.

'Then our labors are made vain. Nay, they are made treasonous,' Thuruvis said somberly.

'No, I do not think so,' Dalta said calculatingly, 'Pelas will enjoy his bride for a time, but he will weary of servitude, and the success of his voyage will so fill him with fresh ambitions that he will eventually be forced to set his hand against the king of Sunlan. We must be prepared to cast our lot with whichever son of Parganas gains the mastery over the other. And if Agonas is lost, then that leaves Pelas.'

'I don't care who rules; may Ijjan live forever, as they say in the palace, but let Dalele remain safe,' Thuruvis said passionately. Dalta nodded, but there was a nervousness in his eyes.

'She must hate me,' Dalta said sadly.

Thuruvis said nothing. 'She would be right to hate you,' he thought. He had grown accustomed to working alongside the dark-haired lord of Centan, but he could not deceive himself that there was any way to mend what had been broken between Dalta and his daughter.

They left the Nook that very day and made their way south, following the course of the Esthalon as it wound its way through the land. The first day of their journey was spent among the rocky hills that separate the eastern Talon Mountains from the rest of the land of Sunlan. But as they emerged from these their path became smooth and easy. They rode quickly across the land, coming at last to Centan, where they could see even from a great distance that the whole city was in an uproar.

'What news of the city?' Dalta asked the guards as he rode up to the gate. 'What is this uproar?'

'My lord Dalta,' one of the guards said with a low bow. 'There is an exhibition being made in the market square.'

Dalta looked over at Thuruvis with a puzzled expression. There were no festivals or feasts at this time of year in Sunlan.

'Is the Lady Dalele in the city?' Thuruvis asked.

The guard looked closely at the two travelers. 'Thuruvis?' he marveled. 'And you are with-' the guards tongue seemed to freeze in its place. Another guard shrugged his shoulders and answered, 'The Lady Dalele is in the market square as well.'

As the two elves made to pass the guard added, 'The Lady is expecting you, my lord.' He gave Dalta a look that seemed to say that he could tell him little more.

Dalta wiped his brow and rode forward, thinking rapidly of all the things that he might say to her. When he arrived in the market every excuse and apology was stolen from his lips. He found himself in a crowd of men, both immortals and mortals. All of them stared at him with knowing eyes. His cruel treatment of Thuruvis was now known by all, and every eye stared at him with a gleam of hatred.

In the center of the square the Lady Dalia stood with Amro at her side. The smith leaned against the great pole of a merchant's tent, looking absently at his hands. He did not so much as look at Dalta, though it was doubtless he had become aware of him.

Dalia wore a light sleeveless dress of pure white silk, such as the maidens of Sunlan wear in the royal palace. It was scarcely appropriate for a summer afternoon, but she wore it now in the biting cold of autumn. But she did not shiver or stir from the discomfort of the wind. Her eyes fell upon her father, and his heart froze within his chest. 'Behold,' Amro said, suddenly, still not acknowledging Dalta's presence. 'She whose blade slew the Thunder Snake!'

Thuruvis gasped and looked upon her with awe.

Dalta started toward her, and put his hands out in a pleading gesture. If she had let him he would have fallen to his knees and kissed her feet. As soon as he made to speak, however, she turned her back to him, revealing her uncovered scars for all the market to see. A murmur arose throughout the crowd as people gasped and wept over her wounds.

Thuruvis shut his eyes for an instant to stop his tears, but held his peace, though everything within him wanted to rush over to her and take her into his arms. 'But will she even have me?' he asked himself. 'She is a hero - she is fit to be in legends. She did it for my honor, but how can a woman save the honor of a man without stealing it for herself. He shook his head with a sudden resolve at that thought. 'No, I never wanted honor. I but want her love. If she still retains her love for me, and if she can forgive my weakness, then the Dragon could not stop me from loving her in return. Even if I must be her servant.'

As Dalia walked away from her father, Dalta noticed for the first time that there was a large merchant's scale standing behind her. It was a crude scale with two wooden platforms hanging from two great iron chains. It was meant for the weighing of swine and sheep, but Dalia had another plan for it. She leaped onto one of the platforms and turned to face Thuruvis. 'My love,' she said, 'All that I have is yours.' Her eyes seemed as warm for him as they were cold for her father.

'Dalele!' Thuruvis began, but she held up her finger to stop him, a hint of a grin on her face. A merchant came, as if it were his turn to take the stage, and he stood before Dalta with a small bag in his hand.

'My lord,' he said confidently, 'I trust that you will acknowledge the value of what I present to you.' He untied the bag and poured what looked like a dozen tiny gemstones into his hand. Showing the high elf he said, 'These are the scales of a fish; one that is but legend to us in Sunlan, but after which the fishermen of Dominas lust. For their scales are more beautiful than any diamond, and more valuable in any market that pure gold. The merchants of this city are willing to support my words with gold at any moment. Some would trade half of our wealth for just what lies here in my palm.'

Dalta looked at him with amazement, not sure of the meaning of his words. The merchant continued, Will you, therefore, accept these fins in the place of gold, and as the equal of gold in the very least?'

'I, I do,' he said, swallowing hard. Dalia looked at him with an emotionless face. From another place, again as though it were a production on a stage, merchants appeared, each bearing a small bag of lightfin scales. One by one in a great procession they poured the scales onto the other platform, until, little by little Dalia began to rise into the air, held aloft by the weight of the scales piled upon the other platform.

'This is not necessary!' Dalta shouted as they kept pouring and pouring the gemlike scales out of their bags. 'I release you from the price, Thuruvis!' he said at the edge of weeping. 'Dalele,' he said, pleading, 'Dalele.'

From atop the scale the beautiful Dalia looked down at him and said, without a hint of compassion, 'I am Dalele Marinea; the slayer of the Thunder Snake and the sworn servant of Lord Pelas,' she laughed mockingly as she continued, 'I trust that I need not accept any such kindnesses of you.'

When it was more than clear that the strange scales outweighed her, she leaped deftly from the scale and walked past her father with all the grace of her gentle upbringing. When she reached Thuruvis she paused, and her cold gaze seemed to melt. Her eyes filled up like puddles and she said with a shaking voice, 'I,' she began, but she could not push the words from her mouth. She glanced at her shoulder shamefully. But Thuruvis put a finger to her cheek and turned her eyes toward his own.

'We are a match now, that is all,' he said with a smile.

'Oh I have missed you, my tower,' she said as she kissed him.

'Dalele Marinea!' Amro shouted, and his shout was taken up by all those present. Amro began tossing the precious scales of the Lightfin off of the platform and into the crowd. Each and every soul would leave that place looking forward to a much better year.

Dalta walked away slowly, his head bowed low, and his chest rising and falling slowly, as if with each breath he lifted all the weight of the world. For a moment of pride, and an hour of stubbornness, he had lost his daughter forever.

Ghastin stood just beyond the edge of the crowd, watching his great wealth vanish before his eyes. But he had never been so pleased in his life. Between Dalta's misery and Dalia's joy, he could not hold back a broad grin. 'Dalele Marinea!' he cheered - the first and last time such an exclamation would be heard from him.

The Spirits

'It is true enough,' Folly admitted. 'Any single thing can be considered the center of it all, if you so please. Though Fate be pleased to please our dear Pelas for a time, making him the center of her machinations, so also with everything else that pulls and pushes upon the world. The truth be told, the Aguians pulled upon Pelas as much as he pulled upon them, and the least of babes is as important as the mightiest of lords.'

'How goes things for Pelas now?' Sleep asked.

'He has been summoned to Ijjan's golden palace,' Folly said. 'There he will drink and feast, and tell tales so exaggerated that his own real accomplishments will scarcely be believed for the incredulity he causes in others.'

'And what of Ijjan? What of Indra? Much depends upon these two elves,' Sleep said.

'Much depends upon the worm beneath their feet, brother, but you ask not for a report concerning him.'

'I shall, brother. In due time I shall.'

Folly shook his head, but laughed, 'Very well. I shall do my very best to make it as enjoyable as I am able.'

'I have little doubt of that, brother,' Sleep said, sounding as tired as ever.

'The world is yet young, and you seem so worn out,' Folly laughed.

'The world is young, brother, but I am not.'

'I am no younger than you, but do you see me dragging my feet like an overworked mule?' Folly replied.

Sleep lifted one gray eyebrow in amusement.

Folly continued with his account, saying, 'When at last Ijjan sees the skull of the Thunder Snake, he will despair of all hope of seeing Agonas again. A miracle he can believe, but not two. That both brothers should be successful in their quests is more than he will be able to believe, and it is more than I shall permit him to believe. He will give every honor to Pelas, and the hand of Indra as well.'

Sleep sighed, sadness seeming to build within his breast.

'If I worried myself over every broken heart and every ill turn of events,' Folly said, 'I suppose I would be as world-weary as you are. Perhaps we should switch places sometime.'

Sleep looked at him with such horror that he could not bring himself to continue the joke. 'You know that I jest; so there is no need for such a response. Sometimes I think you and dear brother Death are twins.'

'We are twins, brother,' Sleep said softly.

'Look on the good side of things, then,' Folly laughed. 'We shall have a fate better than these two Ilvasen!'

Sleep looked all the more miserable with this last jest. 'For me,' he explained, 'the sundering of brothers is the most lamentable of fates, and though it will never happen to me, I cannot but feel the pangs of it within me, even at the mere thought.'

'Then do as I,' Folly said with a smile. 'Think not at all; and not about anything.'

'It is not from you, then, oh teacher of the gods, that I must seek wisdom concerning that which yet confounds me,' Sleep said.

'You would seek wisdom from Folly?' Folly beamed with pride at his brother's words, not because they made him out to be wise, but because they were the closest Sleep could bring himself to making a joke.

'I would like to know how it is that he shall slay the three, when Pelas has slain one, and Agonas the other, and when neither of them can slay the Last.'

'You are trying to make sense of the prophecies!' Folly said, cooing as one coos at a baby trying their first steps. 'You are wise to look to me, then,' Folly said, 'For in a way I am the father of all prophecies. For what is a prophecy but a riddle? And who can solve it but he who would believe it? And who can believe it but a fool?'

'It also says that he must be born of Vitiai, but Vitiai has been gone now for an age.'

'Has it truly been so long?' Folly said, suddenly sounding almost serious.

'It has indeed,' Sleep answered.

'Then the world is not as young as I had thought, perhaps,' Folly considered. There was a silence for some time, but Folly broke it, saying, 'Do not trouble yourself with prophecies, brother. They are meant to make sense only when the time comes, and even then only in a manner of speaking.'

'Why should wisdom leave something of such grave importance in the hands of Folly?'

'Do you not yet know, brother,' asked Folly; his eyes glowed red for an instant - and had he been visible to mortal eyes the mere visage of him would have stilled the heart of any mortal man - 'Do you not know that you cannot have a little wisdom without a great deal of Folly?'

'I do not believe it!' Sleep said, thinking his brother was jesting once again.

'You will believe it ere the end,' Folly said, with no hint of humor or amusement in his voice.

End of Book II
[Book III:  
Dark Kharku](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)
[Chapter I:  
The Father](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Son-Slayer

'Where?' a deep but feminine voice called out through the window.

'Where?' a gruff man asked, peering down from the thatched roof upon which he labored.

'Where!? Where!? Where!?' three VERY small children asked excitedly.

'I l'Kill my son,' Ereg replied sternly, shaking his head as he walked past the house.

Each questioner was silent for a moment, closing their eyes tight and holding their breath. In a moment the gesture passed, and they went back to their tasks, the adults to their work and the children to their play.

'Luck!' the gruff man shouted, nodding as Ereg passed. The people of Sparka never wished for 'good luck', as the men of the coasts were wont to do. What is bad is not lucky, so why waste words by adding 'good' and 'bad'? - such was their reasoning. They found it laborious to speak to the Coastmen; they have two sentences for every thought, three words for every impression, and a host of other unnecessary additions and duplications in their speech. It was a complete waste of time and thought.

'Help'?' the gruff man asked after a pause.

'Mm,' Ereg grunted in answer. The man returned to working on the roof and Ereg returned his attention to the road. His fear and sorrow swelled up within him again, threatening to undo his resolve. As was the custom among his people, he shut his eyes and breathed slowly for an instant, swallowing his sadness. He did not want to kill his son, but he knew that was probably the only thing he could do. The others knew as much, and let him pass without troubling him. They offered him no condolences. If they were not devils they would pity him; why should they waste words telling him then? At any rate, pity would not save his son, and it would not give him the strength to slay him - it would not give him the strength he needed. Son-slaying was almost never easy, not even for the people of Sparka.

He came to the center of the village and found his wife, Erexmid, waiting for him. They nodded at one another, both pausing to shut their eyes and to swallow their sadness. 'Luck!' was all that she said to him - she didn't need to say anything else.

She lifted a large sack from the ground and handed it to him. It had two leather straps which could be worn over the shoulders, and it was filled to the brim with food.

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. Their eyes met, and for a few seconds they considered one another. Could it be that she yet hoped that there was some way for Dan'ereg, their son, to escape his fate? Ereg breathed in and out through his nose, as if to say, 'Do not tempt me!' But he didn't need to say it to her. He turned away and left her behind.

For an instant her emotions betrayed her, and she reached after him, as if delaying him might change his mind. She knew as well as he did, however, that there were no other options. She shut her eyes and, breathing slowly, swallowed her pain again.

Sparka was a small village, built just north of the Burning Lands, so named because the white soil thereof burned like fire beneath one's feet when the sun was at its highest. The land saw very little in the way of cold weather, but when winter came, mild though it was, the men of Sparka would hunt the deadly Ghilil lizards that dwelt upon the hot sands. Despite the heat of the land, however, the Burning Lands were not a desert. Trees grew in abundance, along with an assortment of flowers and bushes. They were hardier than the plants that grew in the Far North, but they were not quite fit for life in the extremes of the desert - at least, not for the extremes of the Kharku Desert which lay some three hundred leagues to the north. The people of Sparka were as hardy as any in Kharku, and they were known among the men of the coast as great explorers and craftsmen.

As Ereg passed the center of Sparka he came to the elder's house. Kuhaf-Da's home was not the largest in Sparka, but the old man was very meticulous about the building, replacing stones at the first sight of mold or crack. His wooden roof he kept tarred and patched better than any other man in the village. It was said, though it certainly was not entirely true, that his roof had never leaked even so much as a single drop of water, even during the great floods.

Ereg nodded to the elder, who looked at him with understanding. The old man stood outside his house with a small bundle tucked under his arm. 'Skatos,' was all that he said as he handed Ereg the bundle.

Ereg looked at him with confusion, but asked no questions. He was sure that he would understand when he saw what was in the bundle.

Laying his own burden aside for a moment he pulled the cloth away to reveal the bundle's contents. Wrapped in white cloth was a beautiful new sword, polished to perfection with a black hilt. It was as sharp as any blade he had seen before, sharp enough to make a quick end of any foe - or of his own son. He nodded approvingly, fighting back strong emotions.

This was good, he thought. Skatos was a good name too, for it meant 'quick' in their tongue. A quick hand and a quick blade was the very least he could give to Dan. The thoughts came once more as he looked upon the blade - thoughts that he might somehow spare the child. But he quickly shut them away, knowing the torment false hope would give him. Swallowing his sadness, he put his hand upon Kuhaf-Da's shoulder, a show of tremendous gratitude, and then walked on toward the northeast edge of the village. The elder's wife, Kuhapsmid, looked out through the window with a single tear visible on her face. This was as much sorrow as a woman of Sparka was permitted to show. It was more acceptable to shed a tear for the sorrows of another. To shed such tears for your own losses was considered showy or pretentious. But she could shed a tear for her dear friend's youngest son, who was about to die.

Five dark figures stood at the edge of Sparka, each with weapons strapped to their backs, and with large burdens upon their shoulders. When Ereg reached them he stopped, swallowed his sadness, and then walked on. There was no way he could stop them from coming, so he would not waste words in argument. But it troubled him. He did not want to make his mission any more difficult than it had to be.

The tallest of the other men was his eldest son San'ereg. When Ereg died, San would become San-Da, the eldest of his line. He would then inherit all that Ereg possessed, including the responsibility of caring for his mother and his brothers. San carried two swords upon his back, strapped in such a way that they could easily be drawn from over his shoulder. On each side of his pack he had strapped six darts with long steel tips. At his belt there hung a small hatchet, good both for light woodcutting and for the heat of battle. Every man of Sparka, regardless of his other armaments, carried such a weapon. San had ruddy brown hair like his mother, Erexmid.

Fas'ereg was nearly as tall as his brother San, but he came short by a mere half-inch, much to his frustration. He strode beside his father, his long blonde hair tied behind his head by a leather cord. Upon his pack was strapped a great battle-axe with a broader head than even the people of Sparka, who were ever fond of such extraordinary weapons, thought to be necessary. The axe was his own creation, however, and he would not be parted from it. If he was not so incredibly skilled with it, the other men might have accused him of carrying it just to hide the fact that he had erred in his fabrication thereof. But no other man of Sparka could match him in combat, not even his father or the elder Kuhaf. And when he carried that strange axe, the distance between his own might and that of all the other men was all the greater, leaving all doubt behind as to the utility of his mighty weapon. At his belt he also carried a small hatchet, which looked all the more insignificant beside the great axe on his pack.

Haf'ereg came third by birth. He was considered the strongest of Ereg's sons, though any of them were more than strong enough even by the standards of Sparkans. When a fire had sprung up suddenly within their house, Haf had carried his sleeping mother and two of his brothers from the house in one trip. He carried no weapon in the proper sense of the word. But upon his back was an enormous bronze shield, large enough to hide his entire body. Haf's hair was a light brown like his father's hair. All of his sons, and indeed, Ereg himself, had rather healthy beards.

Walking beside Haf, both now and at all other times, was his younger brother Jah'ereg. Jah's hair was the darkest of all the siblings, and as if having less of it would make the difference less, he kept it cropped short. Tied to his pack were a dozen darts, like unto the darts of San, and five short throwing spears. In his hand he carried a longer spear which, of course, could also be thrown in a pinch.

Trailing behind all the others, with a pack nearly twice his own stature, was a very distraught Naj'ereg. His hair was, like Ereg his father, light brown. He was the closest in age to Dan, and he could not quite swallow his sadness as the others. It seemed his sorrows would catch in his throat, and force his breathing to quicken and his brow to drip sweat. One day, he thought, he must master this trick of the Sparkans. It would, he was sure, get him in trouble someday. He just hoped that it would not be on this particular day.

Their mission was important, and he did not want to be the one whose weakness led to its failure. At his waist he wore a sword in a sheath (I need not mention the hatchet, which all the Sparkans wore), and upon the side of his pack was a small bronze shield and a small crossbow with ten iron quarrels. On the other side of the pack were tied six steel darts. He could not match any of his brothers with ordinary weapons, but when it came to throwing and shooting, he could not be matched by anyone.

Thus equipped, Ereg and his sons made their way to the northeast, traveling along a little used dirt road. The people of Sparka rarely had any occasion to make their way to the coast. They saw little utility in living in a place so near to the Outer Waters that surrounded Kharku. In their mind these waters marked the edge of all things, and the waters themselves were the infinite chaos out of which the land arose. Moreover, the salty water thereof was not good for either farming or drinking, and the people of Sparka had no interest in eating fish, whether they were caught in the ocean or in a stream. Of Kharku it has been said that what is not enormous is poisonous, and what is not deadly is not in Kharku.

Now and again men from the coast would come to them, usually to trade for iron or to commission a sword or other such weapons. The Sparkans were not the best smiths, but they were better than the people of the coast, who spent their days fishing the shallows and farming the dry soil of the northeastern shore.

Kharku to this day has not quite been fully mapped. A few daring sailors have managed a rather approximate description of its coastline. A jumble of their writings form the basis of most of our maps. The Goblin Peninsula and the Peppered Desert are well known, but seldom traveled. The peninsula occupies the northernmost stretch of the continent and stands equally distant from Kollun, Illmaria and Dominas. Just off the northern coast are the Librantan Isles, which are now ruled over by the democracy of Kollun. It is from these isles that the famed Kharku Pepper makes its way to the known world. The people of the islands trade with the nomadic people of the Peppered Desert, who gather it from some unknown plant that grows only deep in the desert. Those who have attempted to discover the source of the pepper have not returned, either because the nomads would not permit their secrets to be made known to the other lands, or simply because the were not skilled enough to survive the perils of that region. The Peppered Desert, I understand, is so named for the spattering of black stones that litter its sand, and not, it would seem, for the famed peppers.

There are some cities on the northern coast that trade with Dominas, some cities on the western coast that trade with Illmaria and Malgier (though, of course, not with the people of Bralohi, if he yet survives in his legendary kingdom), and, again, the islanders of the Librantan who are governed by Kollun. But beside these things the land of Kharku is almost entirely unknown. There is a great mountain range at its center with great peaks, the least of which rivals Coronis and the greatest of which dwarf that incomparable height. It would be unfitting, it would seem, if there were any extremities that did not find their homes in that mysterious land. Somewhere in the midst of those mountains is the Deplund of the dwarves, where their ancient ancestors battled the Dragon. Indeed, the whole continent seems to have been shaped by some mighty cataclysm of old. How much of this is legend and how much is truth would be impossible to untangle. Indeed, if the purpose of such legends is kept properly in perspective, the difference between myth and history vanishes away. But this is a discussion that belongs to a different sort of work.

Surrounding these mountains on all sides is a great forest, the like of which is only to be found, in a small degree, in Zyprion of Weldera. But in this statement I am assuming that the axe-lords of western Amlaman have not yet felled every tree in that land, rendering the west of Weldera as barren as its center. Within this forest myth and truth are indistinguishable, and the beasts that dwell there are, in some cases, more fantastic than any legend.

There have been kingdoms in Kharku, and there are undoubtedly kingdoms there to this day. They have risen and fallen, conquered and been conquered - all without the observation of either Dadron or the Magic Tower. There are whole nations that have dwelt in the deep forests for ages without number, but whose deeds, whether great or small, have never been spoken or uttered beyond the edge of the forest. There are cities built atop enormous trees, there are goblins of both immense and minute stature, and there are creatures that can only be called dragons, though they are not quite what the stories describe. There are spiders in that dark forest that stand as tall as men, it is said, and some that can speak. The Snakil of Dominas in some way caught wind of this legend, and are superstitiously afraid of all spiders, whatever their stature. They slay them on sight, and believe that if they did not do so, they would grow to be as large and deadly as those they heard tales of in Kharku. I mention this only as a means of illustrating the fact that, in some way, at certain times, there has been commerce between all these lands, despite the pretentious histories of the elves. But the truth is lost to us, and the lies of the elves are in many ways our best approximates. If their purposes are understood, then it is just a matter of interpreting their stories so as to understand the right of it.

Ereg and his sons made camp on the Last Hill, which marked the place where the ocean first came within view. Perhaps it was some ancient memory of an Aguian raid, passed down from age to age, or perhaps it was naked superstition, but the people of Sparka would not sleep within sight of the ocean. Dan must have done so, however, Ereg thought sorrowfully. He must have spent the night listening to the wild repetition of the breaking waters.

That would end on the morrow, however, when Ereg would find and kill his son. The ocean is a powerful thing, Ereg thought, and for a moment he allowed it to tempt him with many possibilities. But as mighty as the water may be, the land broke it to pieces. In this respect the shore represented more than the mere edge of the world. It was the place where the earth broke the power of the sea, and where stone conquered the almighty deeps. To the people of Sparka the working of nature was no mere accident or play of chance, it was a veritable battle between the sundry elements. The wind drove the water, the water resisted the wind, but the earth broke all, and conquered all. And to dwarves like Ereg and his sons, this gave them a deep reverence for stone and earth and all things solid and unwavering.

He would need to be unwavering tomorrow. For Dan had been stolen away by the Coastmen - human folk from the shoreline. And the people of Sparka knew that such men must not be bargained with. But neither could he leave his beloved son to be used by them as they pleased, or held as a hostage to gain power over Sparka. They knew that they had not the power to fight the Coastmen; and the Sparkans had no allies in the land. Nor could they hope to rescue Dan, for such hostages had always been used to lure the dwarves into slaughterous traps. Such a thing had not been done in a century, but dwarves felt all the pangs of their history with as much vivacity as their own present sufferings. When the Sparkans went south to see the Scars, for instance, they could feel within themselves all the sorrows and terrors of their ancestors as they looked upon the place where the Dragon had wounded the earth.

Tomorrow they would kill Dan. The captors would make a demand, and to make it they must show the captive to his kin. But the dwarves of Sparka did not pay ransoms. When the captive was shown, the dwarves would kill the prisoner themselves, as if to spit in the face of all who would attempt to control them through such wicked means. It is very nearly impossible to make a dwarf do as you please.

Illness

The dangers of Kharku are not all of immense stature. Some of the most deadly perils are so small as to be utterly invisible. Around the same time that the Magi Czylost raged against the elves, a small expedition was sent into Kharku in an attempt to expand the trade interests of the Magic Tower. A hundred men went ashore in the north eastern part of the land. This place is populated almost entirely by humans, and is therefore known by the Lapulians as the Manlands of Kharku. But ere they reached the Ung-brusht, the great forest that surrounds the mountains of Kharku, their entire group had been stricken by a terrible illness, the symptoms of which ought not be mentioned in a work such as this one. One man returned to the shore ere he died, leaving the report of their journey and their illness with the fishermen on the northern coast of Kharku.

It is not surprising then that shortly after his arrival on that dark continent, Agonas, son of Parganas, fell deathly ill, and his companions along with him. It was on the nineteenth day of Primus that he set out from Inklas with a single ship named the Crowsflight and a small crew of men that he had personally selected from among his brother's fleet. The two men he trusted the most were Zefru and Gheshtick.

Zefru was a slender elf with dark brown hair from Evnai Port that everyone believed to be a thief, but who had hitherto proved so evasive that there was, as yet, no legal grounds for a proper accusation.

Gheshtick was many things: An accomplished warrior, having proven himself against the goblins of the Talon mountains, a scholar of sorts, having studied in Sunlan Palace and in Centan, and a strategist, having served Ijjan in a small conflict against a group of rebel Essenes.

One thing he was not, however, was a sailor. If he had to do it all over again, Agonas would have selected a few more competent sailors. The Crowsflight was very nearly wrecked when they finally came, after sailing down the entire eastern the coast of Dominas, to cross the Boiling Sea to the northern coast of Kharku. They passed by some of the northern cities and villages without stopping, not wanting to involve themselves in such large groups of men. But they made an attempt to land when they came to a somewhat isolated fishing village built on the shore of a great bay near to the Peppered Desert. As they approached his men had some difficulty navigating the waters, and they struck a boulder, and took on a great deal of water before the fishermen of the village could come to their aid. The village, they learned, was named Thure.

They were welcomed to the village as refugees, and given food and shelter. Agonas wasted no time, however, before he began asking about the Monster of the Earth. When he spoke to the people they grew fearful and wary of them. One of the leaders among the people insisted that they cease from such talk, and wait for the Elder to see to their questions.

Agonas grew belligerent, however, and threatened them with all that Sunlan's army was capable of, and even with things that no nation could manage.

The men stared at him with amazement, but after a moment's observation one of them snorted and told the others, 'The man is feverish. See him to a bed.' This insult was more than the son of Parganas could handle. He drew his sword, raised it toward the man and then promptly dropped it on the dirt floor, its sharp dwarf-steel blade sinking deep into the earth. He made to draw it out again, but he found his arms utterly without strength. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed between his eyes. Everything became a blur and he collapsed in the dirt, not to awaken until three days had passed. Even then, he knew very little of what came to pass. He had some sense that his men were right along with him, each man emptying their insides and suffering intense pains over every inch of their bodies.

The few mortals he had chosen for his crew perished quickly with the disease, and even a few of the elves, leaving only Agonas, Zefru, Gheshtick, Udraja and Amerlu.

Everything that occurred during his illness became a mystery to him, and he had not the strength to comprehend what little he perceived. He had some notion that there was a woman caring for him, and that she sang to the men in a strange tongue. Each day he was fed a deep red broth that burned his throat, but left him feeling stronger. He could recall seeing several worried faces peering at him from above, though he did not recognize them. The most frequent of these faces was of a somewhat fierce looking man whose eyes and hair were both black as night. He spoke to Agonas and the others, but nobody made any reply.

The survivors remained in this condition for almost two full weeks. Gheshtick recovered before any of the others. He remained silent, however, saying only that he could not speak for his master, and that if they wished to know anything of their purpose or their history, they would have to wait for Agonas to awaken.

This finally came to pass on the tenth day of Paschest, when Agonas opened his eyes and found that he could make sense of what he saw. He was lying in a large round tent with a thick wool blanket upon him. He was covered in sweat and the air was rank with sickness. He sat up carefully, his entire body sore both from the illness and from the posture he had maintained for nearly two whole weeks. No light entered into the tent, which led him to assume either that it was nighttime or that the tent was meant for a permanent dwelling, and therefore was constructed in such a way as to keep insects and rain alike from entering the living quarters. He shook his head as he realized that these were not two opposite possibilities. 'How long have I been sleeping?' he said aloud to himself.

'Sleeping?' a quiet voice asked. 'Two weeks you have suffered and been tormented by visions. But you have not slept; not as far as I have heard.'

'Who is there?' Agonas demanded. He could remember drawing his blade and shouting, and he doubted that those who now had power over him had forgotten. He looked around the room trying to find the source of the voice. The walls of the tent were a deep golden brown and looked like they were made of very strong leather. There were curtains hung upon rods separating the space into several small quarters. There didn't seem to be anyone else present beside he and this strange speaker, however. The floor was dirt, but there were several animal skins laid out to serve as rugs. Beautiful woven blankets with ornate patterns hung upon the walls. A small desk and a large wooden chest with a wooden lock sat in the corner of the room near what looked like an entry flap. Beyond the flap he could see what looked like firelight.

'I an Xan,' was all that the voice said.

'Where am I?' Agonas demanded.

'You are in what was once my own tent,' the voice answered.

'Why did you take care of me? Why didn't you leave me to die?' Agonas asked.

'Because I did not know who you were, and only warriors kill those they do not know,' Xan answered.

'And who do you kill?' Agonas said, confused by the man's speech.

'I kill who I must, and only when I must,' he answered. Silence fell, and for nearly a minute neither man said anything. This struck Agonas as unusual, since undoubtedly the man must have a number of questions for him. It seemed as though the man would be content to wait for Agonas to initiate further discourse.

'Where am I?' Agonas asked, and, fearing the other man might make light of his repetition, he added, 'Where is your tent I mean?'

'My tent is in the middle of the village of Thure,' Xan said.

'Thure?' Agonas said. 'And are you the healer of this village?'

'I am,' the other man answered, but with a tone that suggested that this was the very least of what he was.

'Who are you?' Agonas said, frustrated that he was again repeating his questions.

Xan sighed, and said, 'I suppose a name is but a sound without something more - without something to bind thereto. I am the Elder of this village, and I have been its elder since my father was killed, nearly forty years hence. Thus I am known in this land as Xan-Thure, for being the elder I am the person of the village - I am the village in a sense.'

'You are the village?' Agonas said with confusion.

'Yes,' Xan affirmed without any sign of hesitation. 'The coming together of men into civilization is done by means of the person of the village - he who stands for it, fights for it, chastises it.'

'You mean a ruler?' Agonas said, rubbing his temples.

'Exactly. But in Kharku - at least, in this part of Kharku, we call such a man the person of that which he represents. For all the power and will of the people he protects becomes invested in his own fist to do with as he pleases. But a good person does that which pleases those he personates.'

'I must plead for your understanding,' Agonas said, wearying of the conversation. 'I was not myself when I came to this place. I do not even remember what I said or did.'

'Think nothing of it,' Xan assured him. 'Most of us have already carried the Fever, and shall not need concern ourselves with it again. But you are not from Kharku.'

'My men,' Agonas began, thinking one of his crew must have explained their purposes.

As if he knew his thoughts, Xan said, 'Your men have said nothing, each insisting that I must get my answers from you, lord Agonas. You see, you are their person.'

'If you are here for answers, then why have you not asked any questions?' Agonas asked.

'If I ask you aught that you wish not to tell me, how shall I know whether or not you are lying to me, whether you wish me ill, or whether you mean to bring harm to Thure? Your questions, however, tell me only truth. You do not like to be in a position of submission, as I can tell from the way you demanded to know your whereabouts and also to know that we do not consider you an enemy. You wish to know my name, not because it matters, but because you wish to know whether or not I have the right to speak to one such as yourself.'

'It isn't,' Agonas began, but his pounding head would not allow him to pretend the other man did not understand him.

'Most foreigners do not survive the Kharku Fever,' Xan said after a pause. Only a few of your men have succumbed - only the gray-bearded ones. But you and your remaining men have not a gray hair betwixt the lot of you. Why is that? I do not think that there is any lack of maturity in you; certainly there is no such lack in the one called Gheshtick. Yet your hair is as full of color as it was, I would imagine, on the day of your birth.'

'So we are not gray,' Agonas said, shrugging his shoulders. 'There are many who are not.'

'Of course,' Xan said, stepping from the shadows into the light. 'I am not gray, for instance.'

Xan stood several inches taller than Agonas, with long black hair hanging down almost to his waist. His roughly chiseled face was cleanly shaven save for a small line of dark hair along the edges of his jawbone. It was not a style Agonas had ever seen before. 'I am not gray, but I am older than one might guess.'

'You are an elf?' Agonas said, looking closely at the other man. Xan wore a thick black robe with a broad leather belt fastened around his waist. In a sheath at his side was a long knife with what looked like one half of a human arm-bone for a hilt. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a bright blue gem hanging upon his chest. The leather sandals on his feet looked as though they had seen many miles.

'I do not know what an elf is,' Xan said, turning his head slightly.

'An elf. An Immortal; one of the undying,' Agonas explained.

'Undying?' Xan smiled. 'I have never heard of such a creature! Perhaps you mean the world, or the gods - but, no,' he smiled. Even the gods perish!'

'How old are you?' Agonas demanded.

'You are not only a ruler of men,' Xan said with a grin, 'but also a born ruler, not a conqueror. A man who come to power by his own might knows the nature of his authority, and its limits. But those born to honors have their nobility within their bones, poured into them with their mother's milk.'

'If I may ask, master Xan-Thure,' Agonas began, but Xan held his hand up to stop him.

'I say it not but as an observation, Lord Agonas.' After a pause he sighed and said, 'I have lived for two centuries and a half of another.'

Agonas could do nothing to stop his jaw from falling open. 'Do all your people possess such longevity? I thought only,' he stopped himself, hoping the other man would be content only to have heard the question.

'No, almost none of them,' Xan said. There are a few lines that produce what is called an Adapnan - a man who does not perish but by sword or disease. I am the last of these, for the people of the Manlands in the east fear and hate us, and when they learn that one of us has come to rule, whether in this village or elsewhere, they seek to slay us. Many of us also have fallen to the Shadowfolk. When my father was killed, I had not yet been made known to any other people - to this day I am not known but by those who dwell here in Thure.'

'Shadowfolk?' Agonas asked with trepidation, thinking to himself, 'What manner of land is this Kharku?'

As if he had heard his thoughts Xan answered, 'Kharku is a land of darkness. Not because the sun does not shine upon it, but because there are no eyes to behold it. Most of the mystery of this land is mystery because it has not been seen, not because there is anything doubtful or strange in the land itself. Howbeit, the Shadowfolk have only ever appeared near the coasts, and so we - I,' he corrected himself, 'I fear that they are not of Kharku. But I do not wish to trouble your mind more than is necessary. There is enough to fear in Kharku without worrying about the Shadowfolk.'

'These Shadowfolk,' Agonas asked, insisting upon the subject, 'They slay only the undying ones?'

'And infants,' he said.

Agonas could not help but laugh, 'What manner of land is this!' he exclaimed, 'Infants?'

'I speak only truth,' Xan said, spreading his arms as if to show that he hid nothing from the other man.'

'And why should they slay infants?' Agonas asked.

'The infants are born only to those whose line has been known to bring forth an Adapnan,' Xan explained.

'But how should these Shadowfolk know which line is which, and why do they not slay all of their infants?' Agonas said.

Xan simply shook his head to indicate that he had no real answer. 'From time to time Adapnan are born, but they are not known as such until at least their fortieth year, when it becomes clear that they show no signs of their age. Adapnan do not desire women with the same,' he paused as if searching for the right word, 'haste - as ordinary men, so there have been many cases where such men were thought to be Adapnan long before the truth was made manifest by their agelessness.'

'But you are saying that these Immortals - these Adapnan - are born of mortal parents? I mean, they are born of two mortals?'

Xan nodded. 'That this sounds strange to you leads me to suspect that this is not the case where you are from. You are an Adapnan, I think - or something very like unto it.'

'I am what is called an elf or an Immortal,' Agonas said, as are several of my crewmen.'

'All of your crewmen,' Xan said callously, though not intentionally meaning any insult. 'The gray ones are all dead, leaving only those who seem to have the spark of life within them.'

'The spark of life?' Agonas said, lowering himself back onto his bed. He sat facing Xan, with his hands folded in front of him.

'This is what we call that which passes from father to son - that which makes a man Adapnan. Fair-skinned mothers and fair-skinned fathers bear fair-skinned children. Men bear men, trees bear trees and birds give rise to birds. But some things, like the form of the nose, the curl of the hair, and many other such qualities seem to pass through the father like blood through the veins, passing from the grandfather into the grandson unseen. So it is with the spark of life, it appears on occasion, sometimes for three generations in a row, and then sometimes not for five. But it always reappears within the line of those who bore it originally.'

'What does that mean?' Agonas asked.

'Your line is not mixed,' Xan stated as if it was certain, although he waited for the other man to answer him.

'My mother and father were both of the noblest of Immortal lines,' Agonas answered, sounding very much like one born to power.

'But here we marry mortal women, and our sons marry mortal women, and so the spark vanishes away, appearing only irregularly and at great intervals. A grain of salt vanishes in the pot, but reappears when the water has been boiled away, and it reappears alone. So the spark passes into mankind and comes out again. With the mortals we take for wives and husbands, the spark is dropped into a greater pot.' Xan seemed to be reciting some kind of tradition as he spoke, for his tone was fixed and almost poetic. Suddenly he abandoned this mode of speech and spoke to Agonas about his own condition, saying. 'Your pot is full of salt!'

Agonas laughed, not fully understanding the meaning of the joke - he was pretty sure it was a joke.

'Have you at all marveled at the fact that we can speak to one another as we do?' Xan said, as if it were the most important of things.

'It seems surprising,' Agonas said, feeling somewhat foolish.

'There are some differences in our speech,' Xan explained, but the language is in most respects the very same. You will not find this to be the case in the Manlands, and certainly not in the east, in Sparka or Turg or Fist. The Kingdom of the Seasons and LufBrusht are all the more foreign to this tongue - this tongue that is spoken nowhere but in Thure - though I believe some among the Sparkans have learned it.'

'And,' Agonas added, realizing the import of this matter, 'in Bel Albor.'

That word seemed to kindle a fire in Xan's eyes, 'B'alboru is the name of the land from whence our ancestors came.' He ended his speaking right then, as if to give his words time to sink into the other man's mind. 'You have solved many mysteries for me, Agonas,' Xan said. 'For that I shall forever be grateful to you.'

'If that is so,' Agonas said with a smile, 'then I am happy to have so assisted you.'

'Now,' Xan said, as if to finally come to the point, 'You have been a help to me, but I imagine this is not the purpose for which you have come to us. Nay, I am very nearly certain of this, for the way in which you arrived speaks against it. It would seem to me that Fate has brought us together, and not purpose.'

'Fate?' Agonas laughed. 'You speak like my brother.'

The Dwarf Child

'So this is what comes out of men who have an eternity to accrue wisdom? Doom Paths and tests unpassible?' Xan marveled as Agonas explained the purpose of his voyage. 'Good fortune to your brother! Your only hope lies in the fact that neither of you are likely to find these great beasts. Kill them?' Xan could scarcely keep himself upright as he laughed at the absurd request.

'You spoke of Fate,' Agonas said defensively. 'But from your own mouth you acknowledge that these beasts exist. Is it not fateful that Ijjan should dream of them?'

'It is more likely that he heard tell of them before he dreamed of them. But still, it by no means follows that there is Fate in this matter. Accidents can be good as well as bad, and everything else in between.'

'But what of the gods?' Agonas asked, 'What of the one who is said to rule in the Far North?'

'Show a god to me,' Xan said sternly, suddenly losing all patience, 'show him to me so that I can believe in him.'

Agonas shook his head, but said nothing further of the matter. 'Whether you think it folly or not, Xan-thure,' Agonas said, recovering his regal demeanor, 'I shall slay slay this beast. I care not for Doom Paths or for anything else, but the hand of fair Indra has been promised to us if accomplish this task.'

'And then you will kill her father? To satisfy your father's ambitions?' Xan asked.

'To satisfy my brother's,' Agonas corrected. 'Parganas will step down from his throne when all is done. If you doubt this, it is because of your ignorance. Mayhap he intends for it never to come to pass, but he will step down. He does not want to fall as many other elves have fallen.'

'To fratricide?' Xan said, shaking his head. 'When my father was killed, I wept for a month and I feel the pain within me - I feel the wound to this day! What devils you north men must be!'

'Devils or not, I am here to slay this Beast,' Agonas said with frustration. 'If you cannot help me, and if you do not mean to kill or keep us, then please at least show me how I can find someone who will help, or who may have some idea what to do.'

Xan's face grew somber and he seemed to lose himself in thought for a time. 'I will help you,' he said suddenly. 'You will need a guide, I think. Someone who knows the whole land of Kharku and its many dangers.'

'Are there any such men around here?' Agonas asked hopefully.

'No,' Xan answered, 'there are no such men anywhere. You will need a dwarf.'

An hour later, after he had bathed in the sea, washing two weeks of sickness from his body, Agonas found himself robed in brown cloth like one of the people of Thure, creeping along a little used trail toward the southwest. 'I do not understand,' he hissed for the fourth time, 'why must we make such haste. He clutched the robe at his breast, being unaccustomed to wearing such a garment. The elves of Sunlan wore trousers at court, and in battle they wore long tunics beneath their armor. But never had he donned such attire as this. 'It is like wearing naught but a towel and a belt,' he grumbled when it was first presented to him.

'Your own clothing must be boiled and mended ere any use can be made of them,' Xan had told him. 'There are some tribes in the UngBrusht who go about in their skins; but the people of Thure would not appreciate it, I think.'

'Why are we in such haste?' Agonas asked as he struggled to catch up with Xan, who seemed entirely at ease in the flowing garment.

'We are in haste,' Xan explained, 'because it just so happens that tomorrow evening is the bathing day for the men of Sparka. How is that for Fate?'

Agonas slowed for a minute, 'And?' he began, but could not think of a sensible question.

Xan sighed, 'We kept you alive, spluttering, leaking, babbling and drooling for two weeks; do you think you can manage a little trust? We may not have much time if we want to have a trap set ere they arrive.'

'A trap? For who?' Agonas said with surprise. He was not one to shy away from deceptive means, but this course surprised him from a man who seemed so full of criticism for the elves of Bel Albor.

'For a dwarf,' Xan said, beckoning Agonas to hurry. 'For a dwarf child, to speak more precisely.'

'You are going to capture one? What for?' Agonas asked.

'Shall we stop for the day, so that I can teach you all that I know, and so that you can teach me what you know? Or shall we make haste and do what must be done. You cannot simply enter a dwarf village and ask them for help. Surely you must have learned at least that in B'alboru!'

'There are no dwarves in the North,' Agonas said. 'I have heard that there are some in the land the Knariss call Dominas, but I have never seen anything from the dwarves besides their methods of ironworking.'

'Dominas? That is another land in the North? It is different from B'alboru?' Suddenly all of Xan's curiosity returned. He quickly recovered, however, remembering that they were supposed to be in a hurry. 'Forget it,' he said, shaking his head as if to toss the questions out through his ears. 'We must hurry.'

They followed this trail for most of the afternoon until, passing a certain cluster of trees, Xan pulled Agonas away from the road by the edge of his robe. 'Hey, hey!' Agonas said in protest, clutching at the garment to keep it in place.

'Quiet!' Xan hissed. 'We are getting close, and we don't want to be seen upon the road.'

The two elves left the road and walked over grassy hills for several hours until at last they came to a large pool of water. 'This, I think, is the place where the dwarves send their children to bathe. Then, on the morrow, the women come, and at the last, the men follow. We must set a snare-' he began to look around quickly. 'Here!' he pointed down to a group of bushes set away from the water. 'Now, we simply need something a dwarf child will want.'

'You mean like a toy?' Agonas asked.

'This!' Xan said, drawing a long iron blade from a sheath at his side.

'For a child?' Agonas marveled.

'Wouldn't you have wanted such a blade when you were a child?' Xan asked.

Agonas could not bring himself to say that, in Alwan Palace, he had owned many good short swords during his youth. 'I suppose I would,' he answered. He didn't think Xan could quite imagine what a palace was, or what sort of wealth would make it possible for a prince to be given so many fine weapons. 'But is it a good idea to arm he whom we are to capture? Might he not, cut the snare thereby?'

'There are many possibilities,' Xan said, as if the other man's concerns were as natural as they were baseless. 'We will have to take him fast; and flee quickly - and quietly!' he added with extra emphasis. 'If the other dwarf children hear us,' Xan paused for a moment to give it some thought, 'we will be killed.'

'By children?' Agonas said with disbelief.

'They really do not have dwarves in the North,' Xan laughed, shaking his head. He thought he had believed what Agonas had said before, but such talk was proof of its truth.

Xan carefully set the snare and hung the dagger on a branch so that whoever came for the dagger must step within the trap. He then led Agonas to the trunk of a large tree. 'Now comes the exciting part!' he said. As Agonas waited, watching the sun creep by overhead, he found it anything but exciting. When the afternoon was all but spent, he beheld upon the horizon several dark shapes. They were so tiny that at first he thought them to be mere babes. As they drew near to the water, however, he could tell that they were quite coordinated and strong. They looked ready for bathing, each wearing only a brown cloth tunic that hung down not quite to their knees. They were quite playful, lifting and tossing one another with an ease that no human child could have matched. When they came to the water they continued this sort of play. They formed a ring near the edge of the lake and set two of their members against each other. These two wrestled until at last the stronger lifted the other over his shoulders and tossed him, his arms flailing into the pool.

'How did you know that they would be here on this day?' Agonas asked quietly.

'They come here to bathe once every year,' Xan answered.

'Once every year?' Agonas whispered.

'They are some of the cleanest dwarves in Kharku, my friend,' Xan said with a soft chuckle.

The dwarf children continued their game until all of them were in the water, the last of them walking into the pool of his own accord. Some of them wore short beards, from which circumstance Agonas assumed they were the eldest, and therefore the caretakers.

'How can you be sure that they will see the dagger?' Agonas asked.

'Dwarves do not miss anything,' Xan replied.

Nearly a half hour passed before anything of interest occurred. The older dwarf children lay themselves out beneath the sun to dry, nibbling on dried beef and drinking water from the pool. The younger children wandered about the lakeshore, some trying to catch fish while others attempted a fire. As they went about their work, a tiny child noticed something shining in the bushes.

Xan said he could be no older than six years of age, though to Agonas' eyes the boy was the size of a three year old. 'Are you sure that this is what must be done?' Agonas said. 'There is no way to make an alliance with them? To persuade the dwarves to help?'

'There is a way,' Xan said, waving his hand to silence him.

In a moment the child had the dagger in his hands and in the next, his hand was caught in the snare. Agonas expected the child to scream or to panic, but the boy made not a sound. He just stood there examining the cord that now held him with perfect calm. He was moving quickly, trying to figure out how to free himself, but there was nothing of fear in his demeanor. In an instant Xan leaped from his cover and grabbed the child by the feet. The boy hung upside down, swinging and punching the air. Agonas came forward and made to grab his arms, but the child's flailing fists caught him in the eye - and knocked him clean off of his feet.

'The gods!' he shouted, amazed by the boy's strength. 'Release him! We do not want such creatures as enemies!'

'Do not worry,' Xan said, his voice strained from his effort. 'Take his arms again, this time as you would if it were a man we were capturing.'

Agonas obeyed, and soon they were carrying the child away from the lake toward the coast. The boy continued to fight, but he made no effort to warn his companions or to complain. All of his efforts were poured into his struggle - but it was his struggle, and not the concern of the others. 'Dwarves are easy to take in this manner,' Xan said, 'for they are not overly sympathetic, and they do not think to shout for help when they are in danger. At least, not as men do.'

'What do we do now?' Agonas said, his mind spinning with confusion.

'Now we take him to the village and put him in a box under heavy guard,' Xan answered.

'Are you so afraid that he will escape?' Agonas said, thinking it to be a very real possibility.

'No, we must make sure that his family does not murder him before we can hold him for ransom.'

Agonas shook his head as they carried the child along the road. When they had gone a ways from the lake Xan stopped and bound the boy with ropes. 'This will make carrying him much easier,' he said, hoisting the child over his shoulders. 'Come, we have a lot of preparations to make.

The boy's family will send a killer for him; but if they cannot kill him, they will be forced to do that which dwarves utterly detest - that which they would kill their own sons and daughters before doing - they will be forced to negotiate.'
[Chapter II:  
The Journey Begins](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Long-Talk

Ereg and his sons approached Thure just a day after Dan'ereg disappeared. As was their custom, the older children made a count of those under their care and found that they were missing three. Two they found some ways off trying to light a tree on fire, but no matter how carefully they searched, they could not find Dan'ereg.

A runner was sent back to Sparka to summon the child's father. Ereg came at once and several other dwarves as well. A search was made, and the trail of Xan and Agonas was found almost without effort. 'Mm'hide,' Ereg said, negating the idea that his captors were trying to avoid detection. They knew the boy had been captured, they could see the prints and the battered grass where the men had struggled with their prisoner. They also could see that no attempt was made to hide their trail or to mislead those who might attempt to follow.

San' and Fas' followed the trail as far as the road, but Ereg had told them not to pursue their brother until they had learned more. There were only two possibilities as far as the dwarves could tell. They were either taken by the enemies of Sparka or by the men of Thure. 'North,' San said to his father. He did not need to say what lay to the north, his father already knew, and he already knew what San had gone to discover. 'Sparka,' Ereg said in a rough command, telling his sons and his wife, and all those who had come to help him that it was now time to return to Sparka where a definite plan could be made. There would be no sense in rushing after the boy; his captors would have made it back to the village by now, and haste would avail them nothing.

After briefly discussing the matter with the elder Kuhaf'Da, Ereg decided that he must make for Sparka and kill his son. No child of the dwarves should be held captive, and he and his family would not be held captive by scheming Coastmen who meant to bend their will to their own plans by holding their sentiments hostage along with their son.

Sparka was strong, and the Coastmen would learn that such methods were as useless as they were harmful. Harmful, Ereg thought, to the Coastmen, who would someday suffer for what they had done. But for that day more careful planning would be necessary.

'Stay,' was the only thing Ereg said to his sons as they drew near the wooden gates that marked the outer boundary of Thure. It was not quite a fortified village. There was a tall wooden fence built around the market square, and another wooden fence near the road. If someone meant to enter they would either have to climb over it, or go around it, either course serving as proof enough to those in the village that the intentions of the intruder were something other than friendly. Ereg was not a friend of Thure; he clambered over the fence several hundred yards from the gate in a place where he did not think there would be any eyes watching.

Although the servants of Agonas and the people of Thure alike were prepared and watching, they did not discover him until he had exhausted his search and come at last to the unpleasant conclusion that the child had been sent over the waters. As he made to slip out of the village he heard a voice say to him, 'Dwarf! Where is your child?' Xan stood just a dozen paces from him with Agonas at his side and with an arrow ready for flight. 'I am the master of this village,' he said, 'I am Adapnan - you know that I shall not miss if I loose my arrow.'

'Loose,' Ereg said, standing as tall as he was able and lifting his chin to expose his neck. His posture seemed to scream, 'If you would be so without honor, go ahead and shoot!'

'Dwarves are fools,' Xan accused.

Agonas could not believe how this man could go back and forth from perfect kindness and civility to utter cruelty in a flash.

Ereg made no sound and gave no sign that he had heard.

'Speak with us, dwarf, and none shall come to harm by our hands. Your child is on the Waters; but we shall recall him to you if you will hear us.'

Ereg tilted his head curiously.

Xan licked his lip thoughtfully, but kept his bowstring taut.

'I do not want gestures that can be mistaken, nor do I want grunts and half-words. Speak to us!'

Ereg shook his head once and grunted, 'Mm,' which Agonas took to mean simply 'No.'

'We will bury him in the Waters, dwarf. Is that what you wish for him?' Xan threatened. 'So mighty are the dwarves! They, for fear of words, sacrifice their own children! Coward! Gutless pig! Which is braver, dwarf?' Xan shouted boldly, 'the man who lets his son die for honor's sake, or he who sacrifices honor for his son? Who is greater, he who does right? Or he who does what is right for others? Coward!' he almost screamed this last word.

Agonas took a step back when he saw the anger in Ereg's face.

'Ereg'Da!' the dwarf shouted. 'Sparkaf!'

'Meaningless!' Xan shouted, pulling back even harder on the arrow.

Ereg's face was red and there was murder in his eyes, but Xan did not budge. Dwarves, as Agonas would come to understand, would not waste their lives no matter how angry they became. They were always keenly aware of the sundry paths set before them. Ereg knew that if Xan meant to kill him, he would be dead already. He also knew that charging him in a rage would bring certain death. The road - the course of action that led to life - was somewhere else. He sighed, and his face returned to its normal color.

'I'll make t' long-talk,' he said, indicating that he was willing to speak in a manner they could understand. The dwarves did not need as many words to express their ideas as human beings and elves. It was tiresome for them to belabor every point and state clearly everything that was obvious to them.

Xan lowered his bow as soon as Ereg had spoken, returning his arrow to its quiver.

Almost at once Ereg began to speak, saying, 'Me father, me mother call me Ereg. They're dead; so call me Ereg'Da Sparkaf. Who r'you?' he ended with a question.

'I am Xan,' the village elder spoke. 'This is Agonas,' he said, pointing to the son of Parganas. 'We need to speak to you concerning a quest.'

'Quest?' Ereg asked, his face filled with puzzlement. 'Dan'ereg,' he said flatly.

'Dan'ereg?' Xan said, his brow furrowed.

'Child,' Ereg said flatly, as if he were speaking to an utter buffoon.

'Ah, yes, Dan'ereg is the child's name,' Xan said comprehendingly, 'Come with us dwarf, and I will send for him.

A half hour later the three of them were standing in a circle in Xan's tent. Xan's servants had given it a thorough washing since Agonas had recovered and the whole space now had a flowery smell. Ereg stood as still as a statue with his neck lifted high to minimize the angle at which he must hold his face while speaking to the elves.

Xan's servants brought in a plate with a roast chicken and vegetables, most of which were of a kind Agonas had never seen before.

Ereg took the legs off the chicken with a firm twist and examined them carefully before taking a bite.

'The child will be here soon,' Xan said.

'What'yu want?' Ereg asked impatiently, his mouth still full of chicken.

'Beside me stands an Immortal from the Waters,' Xan said. 'He has come to slay the Beast of Kharku, and we know that none but the dwarves can guide him thereto.'

Ereg burst into laughter, a deep rumbling chuckle that seemed to have neither beginning nor end.

'I have come to slay the Beast,' Agonas said defensively. 'Laugh if you will, but I will find him.' Indra's fair face sprung into his mind, and his resolve turned to iron. 'I swear by all the gods and their thrones, and by the stars above and the earth below.'

Ereg's laughter ceased immediately at the mention of the earth. He suddenly became serious again, and looked closely at Agonas, studying him with renewed interest. 'For Dan'ereg?' he asked, tilting his head to the side questioningly.

'Do you mean, are we asking you to guide us in exchange for the return of your son?' Xan said amusedly. 'No, your son will be returned to you whether you will help him or not. Thure means no insult against Sparka,' he spread his arms as if to show that he held no weapons and no secrets. Agonas looked at him with horror, thinking the other man was about to undo all that they had thus far accomplished. The look on Xan's face, however, seemed to reassure him that all was proceeding according to his design.

Agonas was not yet sure that this was a good thing.

'Why kill?' Ereg asked.

'Because I have been sent by my king to do so,' Agonas said. 'I have been sent by King Ijjan of the Golden Palace.'

'And riches unimaginable will be given to he who defeats this monster,' Xan added. 'And from that abundance shall his companions be rewarded.'

Agonas looked at him strangely, but said nothing. Ereg seemed to notice his doubtful glance. Staring straight into the eyes of Agonas he asked, 'Treasures l'come over Outer Waters?' The expression on his face said that he believed not a word of it.

Agonas looked at Xan nervously. It seemed that lying to dwarves was as futile as it was dangerous.

Xan spoke next, shrugging his shoulders and saying, 'Who can say anything with surety? Your name shall be honored forever in Kharku, and your tribe will gain great repute. Sparka's fame will be restored to the land, and the name of its warriors will be remembered by the nations forever, even in Turg and Fist, and in the land of the Five Kings.'

Ereg looked again at Xan and considered his words carefully. He seemed to be on the very edge of a great leap, unsure of what lay beneath. But after a while he said, 'Beast l'kilt by Sparka, or not kilt. We t' line of t' Drake-foes - who defeat't Yaha'Nai' he chest seemed to inflate with pride as he spoke. 'From t' Scars we strike't his hands, and the Great Fire flee't from t' earth. Beast is Drake'Ya, earth-son of t' Yaha'Nai.'

'You believe that the Beast is the child of the Great-foe?' Xan said curiously. He did not seem to believe what the dwarf was saying, but he was no less curious for his doubtfulness. Xan seemed to be interested in everything and for no good reason, Agonas thought to himself.

'You mean, the Dragon Thaeton?' Agonas asked.

Xan's face turned pale and, for a moment, he looked like one who thoughtlessly throws a stone into a cave and wakes a mother bear from her rest. 'I see the North has its legends as well,' was all that he said.

Agonas was just as inclined to receive such tales as legends, but he was surprised at how quickly Xan had brushed away this strange coincidence of histories.

Ereg did not ignore this coincidence. 'Beast call't Yaha'tha Jee'ya, which means "son of Thaeton". Outer Waters rule't by Yaha'tha Snaka'ya, skies rule't by Yaha'tha Ave'ya.' He spat after he mentioned this last monster.

Dwarves were lovers of the earth. Properly speaking they had no word for either air or water. Their word 'jee' served them just as well for all materials. The relative solidity of the subject was described not by a different word, but by a different tone. So the deepest sound they could make stood for adamant, or dwarf-steel, and the highest sound would stand for the lightest of things. They exercised enough control over their vocalizations to avoid confusion. The author of the Wars of Weldera stated that dwarves 'do not understand humor,' but this justly famous writer, for all his best efforts, very clearly never actually met a dwarf. When a dwarf speaks about air, especially about the very thin air of a mountain's top, he says the word 'jee' with a voice as sharp as that of a mouse, and it is customary for other dwarves to burst out in laughter at the absurdity of the sound. So whenever a dwarf speaks of the air - that thin and flimsy element - he is mocking it, and jesting. But the Yaha'tha Ave'ya, or the Fire Bird, as it is called elsewhere, is a mockery of the dwarves. That there should be such a beast, and that it should, in some manner, rule over even the Water Serpent and the Dragon's son, is a cruel trick of Fate. They cannot mention this great bird without spitting, cursing or in some other respect showing their disdain for the air.

Xan could see that some ancient spark of foolhardy courage was slowly kindling within the dwarf. He seized upon this quickly, and began to describe, almost poetically, how they might struggle against the Beast, striking blows against it with weapons of adamant, receiving mortal wounds to save their allies, and bringing the creature down at all costs, to procure for themselves glory both eternal and incomparable.

Slowly but surely Ereg's head began to nod in time with Xan's speaking. 'Enough,' the dwarf said at last. 'Time's an ending of things. Even t' Beast l'perish.' This is as close as a dwarf could come to expressing a possibility - in this case, the possibility that he should be the slayer of the Yaha'tha Jee'ya - the Beast of the Earth. He turned, saying, 'Send my son to Sparka. Release him and I l'guide you.'

Departure

An hour later Ereg was leaving Thure with his son Dan' upon his shoulders, the two of them together scarcely coming up to Agonas' shoulders. Ereg himself was only a few inches taller than his belt-buckle. The child did not seem all that troubled by his adventure in Thure. He had wept when they first brought him over the Outer Waters, but he quickly gained control of himself, sitting silently the whole while with his eyes fixed murderously upon his captors. At first they laughed at the expression on his face, but as time wore on they began to fear that this tiny child might somehow make good on the threats his eyes seemed to be making.

Dan was soon greeted by his brothers, each of whom took a moment to breath a sigh of relief upon seeing him. Naj'ereg, closest to Dan in age, though still a good ten years his elder, gave him a firm embrace. 'Dan'lel!' he said affectionately, rustling the child's already messy hair. The people of Thure, along with Agonas and several of his companions, watched the seven dwarves as they made their way along the road toward the southwest.

'Would you return to Thure?' Zefru said with a chuckle, wondering if they would ever see the dwarves again now that the prisoner was free.

'He said that he would be back,' Agonas said, shrugging his shoulders. 'Xan says that dwarves do not lie - and for now I am inclined to believe him.'

'They are armed like squid,' Gheshtick said, shaking his head in amusement. 'I think they could have made an end of us all - and of Thure at the same time.'

Agonas sniffed, 'They hate the water. They would rather kill the child themselves than let us drown him. And they were willing to make any kind of agreement to avoid the latter.' He could not help but marvel at how Xan had navigated this peculiar situation. 'Now they go to return the child to his mother, but they will return on the morrow. I think they are more excited about the quest than we are.'

'That is not hard to believe,' Zefru chuckled.

Gheshtick smiled slightly, 'You think too much of your life, Zefru,' he said. 'If a man took no risks with his life, he would be a coward, and he would still come to an end, be he an elf or not.'

'That is very true,' Zefru snapped. 'But if I had it to do again, I would have weighed my odds a little better. When I decided to come on this voyage, I was firmly convinced that no such monsters could exist. But now that every village fisherman seems to know of these creatures, I am doubting myself.'

'Remain in Thure, then,' Agonas said, 'and for all the help you've been you will be lucky if we bring you back to Evnai at all, much less pay your wages.'

'I jest,' Zefru insisted fearfully, realizing that his employer was in no mood for honest talk. 'I am with you to-,' he paused to swallow, 'the bitter end.' He was, for the time being at least, still more afraid of Agonas than he was of the distant monster.

The next day Ereg returned with his six eldest sons with him. They were garbed in very much the same manner except Haf and Naj were more heavily burdened, Haf because he was the strongest, and Naj because he was the youngest. The elves were also heavily burdened, but not nearly to the same extent as the small dwarf warriors, whose burdens were as large or larger than their own bodies.

Gheshtick carried an enormous long-sword upon his shoulders, the hilt of which stood an inch taller than his short cropped brown hair and the point of which scarcely cleared the floor. The dwarves gazed at it with amazement, and Naj even asked, 'Which dwarf made it?' When they were told about Amro and his skill with the blade they seemed to take it as some sort of irreverent joke.

Zefru carried a long knife with a black hilt sheathed at his side. He was not terribly skilled with the blade, but he could use it equally well with both of his hands - a skill that had saved him from no small number of perilous circumstances. Other than that he carried no other weapon. He did not see himself as a warrior.

Udraja was a golden haired elf of a noble Sunlan family, in some way distantly related to Ijjan himself. He had lately fallen from grace at the Golden Palace, however, and was hoping this adventure would bring him once again into the favor of the king. He and Amerlu, a mercenary of Evnai, both carried swords and small wooden shields. Amerlu was not in any sense more noble than Zefru, but the two had crossed paths (and swords also) before, and neither appreciated being on the same side of the coming struggle. Amerlu did what he was paid to do, however, regardless of how uncomfortable it might seem to him. He would put up with the little thief if he must, so long as Zefru did not provoke him. Amerlu had dark brown hair and a thick beard (an unusual style among the elves, who for the most part kept their faces shaved).

The whole group of them were given green cloaks and a coil of rope. 'If we end up in the UngBrusht,' Xan explained, 'you will be glad to match the color of the trees. And if we must go near to the Scars, or pass over the mountains, then the rope will be a thread of life to us.'

'Are you certain you wish to accompany us?' Agonas asked, not for the first time. 'You seem to live a good life here in Xan-Thure, why would you take a chance with it?'

'Life here is a risk, for all that I know,' he said. 'In you I see a thread binding my own people to the most ancient of times, and if I do not sever myself from you, perhaps to the distant future. Who can say what our companionship will bring forth in time?'

'Who can say?' Agonas answered. 'But who will watch over Thure in your absence?'

'I have a son,' Xan said. 'He will watch over Thure.'

'You have said nothing at all about having a son,' Agonas marveled. 'You speak so freely on other matters, but you hide such a trifle.'

'I have hid nothing,' Xan answered. 'But in Thure we are careful with our words, for we are ever fearful of the Shadowfolk.'

Agonas nodded, but he could not help but think that this talk of dark and mysterious baby-killers was unbecoming of one who seemed so appalled by the idea of gods and spirits.

'What is his name?' Agonas asked.

'Thur-hee,' Xan answered.

'Is he-?' Agonas began, meaning to ask whether his son was immortal or not. He was not sure if this was a subject the other would prefer to discuss.

'None can say for sure,' Xan said quickly, clearly wishing to think on other matters.

Agonas nodded and motioned his companions to draw near to him. 'We go to perils unknown, and glory yet only a vision. But ere the end I pray that we will master the perils and attain the glory. If you are doubtful, of me or of our quest, then turn aside now. I will take nothing from you save for your share in our reward. You will retain what honor you now possess, but you will have no part in our triumph.' He looked at his chosen servants. Gheshtick was the only one of them that really had anything to lose in this endeavor. Amerlu was a hireling, Zefru a thief and Udraja a dishonored noble - Gheshtick alone had a good name to either lose or build up. But none of them chose to remain in Thure. Each stood in a line as if ready to follow Agonas into a battlefield. With no more ceremony than that the party, six elves and six dwarves, set out into the south.

Elementals

The party walked south for most of the day, camping about a league from the Ashenlin, which was the name given to the northern border of the Burning Lands. It was not until their camp was made that Xan finally asked Ereg where they were heading and what he planned to do next.

Agonas looked startled by this question, for he had assumed all the while that the dwarf somehow knew where they must go to find the beast. 'You have no idea where it is?' he asked incredulously.

'Mm,' Ereg answered. 'I l'speak elementalad.'

Xan's neck whipped around to face the dwarf as if it had been pulled in that direction by a gale. 'What did you say?' he asked.

Dwarves are not fond of repeating themselves, and so he repeated what he said very slowly and condescendingly. 'I say't I l'speak to the Elementals - to the Jee'Nai.'

'Of course,' Xan said, shaking his head in agitation. 'The Jinn; he is going to speak to the Jinn!' With that Xan rose from his place and laid himself down upon his blanket.

'What is it? What are you doing?' Agonas asked him.

'What else?' Xan said exasperatedly, 'I am going to speak to the Jinn as well.' He shut his eyes and rolled away from the others and was motionless for the rest of the night.

Ereg pursed his lips, but otherwise gave no hint as to how he felt about Xan's outburst.

Agonas was not sure he wanted to understand just yet. But there was nothing more to learn this night; the dwarves did not seem to want to talk with them, and the only one who knew anything about the land of Kharku had gone to sleep in a huff.

The next morning Agonas awoke to the sound of greasy meat crackling over a fire. There was a strange odor in the air, not altogether different from the smell of a game hen. But when he looked over toward the fire he saw the body, limbs and tail of a large lizard frying on a huge iron pan. 'San and Haf were up early,' Xan explained, eyeing the meat doubtfully. 'hunting the Ghilil.' He said this as if it were the worst thing they could have been doing.'

'It smells fine to my nose,' Gheshtick said, standing over Ereg's shoulder peering hungrily at the meat.

'Good smell or no, if they offer it to you, then you must refuse it,' Xan spoke as if the dwarves were not present, and the dwarves, for the most part, acted the same toward the elves, only answering them when they were addressed directly.

'Why should I refuse it? It looks like a good breakfast,' Gheshtick said defensively. He was not the sort to pass by the opportunity to expand his knowledge, even if it was only knowledge of a culinary nature.

'Because it is poison,' Xan answered. 'Not to dwarves, perhaps, but to the men of Thure a single bite will empty the stomach, a meal will sicken you for a month, and any more than that will make an end of you.'

Zefru burst out laughing when he saw Gheshtick's horrified expression.

'They would not have told you that, of course,' Xan said bitterly. 'They do not like to explain things.'

Ereg looked up at Xan seriously and just said, 'Explanations are far from truth; truth is before'yu. See it; believe it. Explanations just add words to wisdom.'

'You see?' Xan said, spreading his arms as if he were revealing some conclusive bit of evidence.

After the dwarves had had a good breakfast, the camp was taken down, packed up and placed once again upon Naj'ereg's back. The dwarf hissed as the weight pulled down at him, but that was the closest he came to a complaint. The elves took up their burdens and followed Ereg to a small stream.

'Last,' Ereg said as he proceeded to fill everything he could possibly fill with water. His sons repeated his routine, filling even their upturned helms with cold water from the stream. They tucked these carefully beneath their arms and turned to enter the Burning Lands.

The elves filled their water skins almost to bursting, but none of them save Gheshtick could bring themselves to follow the pragmatism of the dwarves. Gheshtick was quite in his element whenever he did something novel. He took a small cook-pot from his pack and filled it with water to carry with him into the arid landscape that stood to their south.

The elves soon learned the purpose of this strange practice, as the intense heat of the Burning Lands seemed to dry up every drop of water in an instant. Within an hour Zefru had begun asking Gheshtick for a sip of water from his cook-pot, but the elf just laughed, 'What is the matter, Zefru? Is your dignity not enough? Now you want my water as well?'

'Is there a reason we are passing through this barren land in the heat of the day rather than the cool of the night?' Udraja complained.

Ereg answered with one word, 'Ghilil.'

The elves were too thirsty to press him for an explanation. Agonas rightly assumed that the night was when the lizards came out of their lairs, and that it would be too dangerous to wander blindly in the Burning Lands while these beasts were out hunting. He also thought, however, that it was very unlikely that any creature would attack a party such as theirs, with six elf warriors and six dwarves armed from boot to brow. 'Doubtless the dwarves know best,' Xan said bitterly.

'You have two opinions concerning these little folk,' Gheshtick noted. Even as he spoke Xan rushed to him with his hand out as if he would cover the other man's lips.

'Do not call them that!' he hissed. 'We are large; do not forget it if you wish to survive this quest! To say they are small is to make ourselves the standard; which to them must be nothing short of arrogance.'

A thin smile appeared on Gheshtick's face as he considered the warning. 'It is true enough,' he agreed.

The days ran together as the party trudged through the barren sands into the south. It seemed to the elves as though the sun swallowed up the earth every dawn, beaming down so hot and bright that they felt as though they were on fire. Despite the carelessness of the elves, however, the party left the hot sands only a day after the elves depleted their water skins. The dwarves very quickly made their way to a formation of rocks where they said a well was hidden. They tied their ropes around a large stone and pulled, all six of them struggling to move it. Little by little they dragged it aside, revealing a deep hole. They quickly converted some of their cook pots into buckets and drew water from deep beneath the surface of the ground. They filled their water skins to bursting, drank to their satisfaction, and then washed the sand from their hair and beards before they allowed the elves to have any water.

Ereg looked at the elves coldly before handing the rope over to Gheshtick, who quickly drew water for Zefru, who looked as though he might faint at any moment. The younger dwarves looked at him with great amazement, but they said nothing about it among themselves. It was strange, and their expressions had shown as much, but there was no reason to speak further of the matter.

Their father had decided to go along with the Coastmen; and they would go along with their father. Dwarves did not lie, but it would not be considered evil for a man in Ereg's place to make the journey so hard on them that they could not survive it. But there was something about the way Gheshtick sought to understand all things that seemed to soften Ereg's harsh demeanor toward the elves. 'Dwarvish in him,' Ereg said when he saw the puzzled expressions of his children.

'Mannish in him,' Fas'ereg said, pointing at his father with a tiny grin on his face.

A few of his brothers snickered, but San quickly silenced them with a rapid shaking of his head.

The slow burning anger in Ereg's eyes quickly brought Fas'ereg's eyes to the ground, which was, to a dwarf, apology enough for most offenses.

'Help 'em,' Ereg said, pointing to the elves with a cruel grin. Fas' wasted no time, rising immediately and taking to the rope and bucket. He soon had brought up enough water for the elves to replenish their stores and drink their fill. When his task was done he deftly untied the rope and pot and packed them away once again.

The next day the elves were told to rest while the dwarves made preparations. The elves had expended all the strength that they had within them to survive the heat of the Burning Lands, and they would not have made much progress if they had taken up the journey right away. The dwarves seemed only a little tired for all they had endured. Jah' and Naj' remained at their encampment where they worked to build what looked like a small furnace out of field stones. By midday they had a hot fire burning, and they spent the rest of the afternoon gathering fuel to keep their blaze growing. In the evening the others appeared, each dragging the carcass of an enormous lizard. The Ghilil, as Agonas assumed the creatures to be, were as long as a man is tall. Their skin was a faint green, almost yellow enough to disappear in the sand. Upon their shoulders was a tuft of something soft - it looked like feathers from a distance, but the rest of their bodies were covered with thick reptilian armor. Agonas had to shake his head in disbelief as he watched Fas' carrying two of these creatures over his left shoulder, one stacked atop the other. 'Just how strong are these dwarves?' he asked Gheshtick.

The other elf shook his head also, having no words with which to answer his master.

Zefru just whispered, 'By the gods!'

From a distance (the elves generally camped somewhat apart from the dwarves) the elves watched the dwarves butcher and cook the meat from the Ghilil. They carefully cut and dried the skins, finally burying them near the well, presumably so that they could dig them up sometime in days to come. They cooked the meat until it was black all over and then they took the pieces and wrapped them in cloth, finally storing it all in Naj's enormous pack.

Gheshtick had gathered that the youngest of them carried the greatest burden because he was the weakest of them. The exertion was meant to toughen him, and the elf fully believed that it would do just that.

When night fell the dwarves feasted on whatever meat they could not slip into a pocket or a pouch. They offered some of the blackened meat to the elves, but only Gheshtick was tempted to accept it, nibbling cautiously upon it as the other elves prepared to eat their own dried fish and stale bread. He felt a bit ill afterwards, but the Ghilil meat did not make him nearly as sick as Xan had predicted.

'Elder Xan,' Gheshtick said after some of the others had turned in for the evening.

Agonas sat silently peering into the fire and Zefru lay on his back staring at the stars.

Xan sat across from Gheshtick on the other side of the fire. He was seated upon a large stone so that his face was fully visible above the leaping tongues of flame.

'Yes?' Xan said.

'May I ask you,' Gheshtick began. He paused for a moment, giving his words great care, 'What have you against the gods? What is the root of your ire?'

'Ire?' Xan said, smiling ruefully. 'I cannot be angry with the gods, for I have done naught to them, and they have done naught to me.'

For a moment it seemed as though the conversation had ended, but Gheshtick was not content with his reply. 'Your answer seems to fall short of the truth of the matter,' he said.

Xan gave him a surprised expression. He was clearly not accustomed to such forwardness. 'You are angry with the gods,' he said firmly. He was not intending to be rude, but he wanted to understand, even if the other elf did not truly wish to be understood. 'It is written upon your face, as the expression goes in Sunlan. We have all seen it,' he said, giving a quick glance toward Agonas.

Agonas nodded reluctantly, not wishing to be drawn into their discussion. Xan had reacted so fiercely even to the mention of the gods that he had been afraid to say anything ever since. One of these days, he thought, Gheshtick's desire for knowledge would become troublesome. He could not help but smile as he thought for the first time that perhaps Pelas was wise to surround himself with servants like Cheru and Oblis, who never seemed to have a thought of their own.

'It is hard for one such as I,' Xan said, speaking without guile, 'to live in the land of Kharku - the home of gods and fables and legends innumerable. It is hard to live here without growing angry. My ancestors came here, it is said, in search of a goddess called Eva'Nai. They never found her, as you can well imagine. But nonetheless they continued to worship her for many years, thinking that it was their annual sacrifice that brought the Adapnan into their bloodlines. But time after time the Adapnan would be born to the most wicked among us, and without any consideration of whether the sacrifice was made or not made. Eventually the people abandoned Eva'Nai, and began to follow after the gods and spirits of Kharku. But in the time of my great, great grandfather, may HIS name be blessed forever,' and when Xan spoke it sounded as though it was less important that his grandfather's name be blessed than that the names of the gods not be blessed, 'the people of Thure were finally freed from their illusions. They were finally free to simply live their lives without fear in their hearts and torment in their minds.'

'But what of the Pit, and the other terrors of the gods?' Gheshtick asked.

Zefru chuckled.

'Who speaks of such things?' Xan asked, but before any could answer he answered himself, saying, 'It is the priests and teachers, sages and wise men of this world, none of whom have seen this "Pit" of yours, nor seen the life to come and whether it be a good life or a bad life - or whether it is a life at all. None have seen anything of what is to come, save for those who bury the dead, and those who watch the worms consume their corpses. It is in these men that I will trust for my knowledge of what follows death.'

Gheshtick nodded as though he was satisfied. 'But some of the sages and prophets of our land speak of a God of gods - the father of all living things - of all things whatsoever. The Essenes say that it is he, and not all the other spirits and gods, who is the true master of all.'

Agonas raised his eyebrows at the mention of the Essenes. What was an elf doing looking for wisdom among mortals, he thought to himself.

'And why is he any different than the others?' Xan asked after a pause, 'what is so special about this particular god that he deserves my attention?'

'They say,' Gheshtick explained, 'that whereas the other gods themselves have causes, this God is the cause of all things, both god and man, physical and spiritual. Moreover, it is because of his providence that the world is ordered such as we behold it to be ordered.'

Xan gave something of a start at hearing such doctrines. 'These prophets and sages are deep thinkers,' he said. 'There is nothing of the like among the people of Kharku. Each tribe and each nation has its own divinity; Thure alone is without gods. Even the dwarves have something like gods,' Xan gestured in the direction of Ereg's camp as he spoke, 'or, more properly speaking, they seem to think that all things are gods in some manner.' When he saw the look of interest in Gheshtick's face, he quickly shook his head, 'but if you wish to learn about it, you will have to ask them yourself. It is not my job to teach others doctrines I hold in reproach.'

'Fair enough,' Gheshtick said, 'but what of the God of the Essenes? This creator of all? What are your thoughts about him?'

'Show him to me,' Xan said, spreading his arms as if to show that he had nothing concealed by them. 'I ask the same of him that I ask of other gods. Show him to me.'

'They say he cannot be seen or touched,' Gheshtick explained.

'That,' Xan said with a smile, 'is the wisest trait I have ever heard attributed to a god! The half-man, half-spider Galma'Nai of UngBrusht has eleven heads and a crown of gold upon its tallest brow, but that just makes it all too easy to discover the ruse. Make a god invisible, and in every way indiscernible, and you are quite safe from criticism.'

Zefru snorted with laughter. 'Well said,' he chimed in, breaking his long silence.

Gheshtick looked at him with amusement as if to say, 'You are interested in such things after all, despite all your pretenses to the contrary.'

'They offer arguments instead of rituals,' Gheshtik said, 'and proofs instead of traditions, however. So it is not a mere matter of dismissing them for not having their god in hand to show around.'

'Proofs?' Xan said surprised. 'These Essenes of yours are a fascinating group of people!'

'Indeed,' Agonas said, 'and had I known of your deep interest in them, I would have introduced you to Lord Kolohi or to Sol, both of whom are deeply interested in the ways of the mortals.'

Xan looked to Agonas and laughed, 'the ways of mortals?' he repeated. 'In B'alboru the elves have truly come to think highly of themselves, haven't they?'

'They have,' Zefru confirmed. But when he saw the fierce look in Agonas' face he fell silent, hoping the other elf would exclude himself from Zefru's complaint.

'You will have to tell me of these proofs sometime,' Xan said, looking past the fire and Gheshtick in the direction of Ereg's camp.

Gheshtick looked behind him and saw the dwarves tucked into their bedrolls with nothing but the glowing embers remaining of their fire. 'It is late, and if we do not want to embarrass ourselves utterly and completely, we will need what rest the night can give us. The dwarves travel by day and camp by night, but do not be fooled. If they wished to they could march through the night as easily as they march by sunlight. Their eyes are made for the deep places of the earth as well as for the bright surface. Furthermore, they do not tire as we do. They could march for three days straight before making camp. They are adopting this routine for our sakes, and we should not be ungrateful to them for accommodating our weaknesses.'

'You once again have a high opinion of the little-' Gheshtick stopped himself, nervously peering over his shoulder. 'You have a high opinion of the dwarves.'

'I speak as I feel, friend,' Xan said as he prepared his own bedroll. 'Anything less would be dishonest. But to say that I always feel the same thing toward these people would not be honest at all. Ere the end,' and Xan sounded almost like a prophet as he spoke, 'we will both love and hate them for their oddities.'
[Chapter III:  
The Scars of the Earth](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Elementals

For three days the party continued into the south, traversing babbling streams, rolling hills and lush grasslands. There were small forests here and there, and a few rocky places where the dwarves said a great mountain range once stood. Agonas thought to himself that if ever there were mountains in this place, it must have been many ages ago.

Gheshtick asked the dwarves how they knew of the mountains, hoping they would cite some ancient history or record, but it turned out the dwarves kept no such records. 'Look at it,' Ereg said, pointing at the stones.

Gheshtick looked closely at the stones as they passed, but he could not see how the dwarf could make this claim.

'Does it not speak t' you?' Ereg asked. The dwarf still remained aloof from the elves, ignoring their questions and more or less pretending that they were not even present except when the challenges of their journey required it. But he treated Gheshtick with a kind of respect dwarves rarely bestowed upon outsiders. He also, as if to demonstrate the quick-mindedness of the dwarves, seemed to shed much of his peculiar mode of speech. He still spoke as few words as possible, but he adapted his language to the needs of the elves.

'No,' Gheshtick said, sounding puzzled.

Xan shook his head, but Gheshtick ignored him. 'What does it say?'

'Everything,' he answered.

'How does it speak?' Gheshtick asked.

'Color, form; these speak loud as words.'

'Except that those who speak words mean something by them,' Xan muttered.

'Some mean nothing,' Ereg replied quickly, giving the elf a fierce look.

'But you are suggesting that the stones speak. Now I grant that they have color and form, and I see it as plainly as do you, but to speak requires understanding. Otherwise it is just sound.'

'TRUE,' Ereg said swiftly. The dwarves chuckled, and a grin formed upon Gheshtick's face.

Xan was puzzled, and said, 'The rocks do not 'speak' because they do not understand.'

'You, too, do not understand,' Ereg said, inspiring still more laughter from his sons.

'I suppose I must grant you that much,' Xan said with a sigh. He quickened his pace and left them behind.

'Man, dwarves, all made of earth,' Ereg said when at last Xan had passed from earshot. 'You think, but not all of you - only the head. The earth thinks, but not all of it, only dwarves and man. These are the heads of the earth.'

Gheshtick nodded, thinking he was starting to understand what the dwarf was saying. 'But the stones speak?'

'The tongue thinks not, but speaks. So also the stones think not, but speak. Sound from the tongue, color from the stone, taste from the meat, scent from the flower - all of it has meaning. All is speaking.'

'What of animals? Do they also speak, then?' Agonas asked.

'They speak,' Ereg said without hesitation.

'What do they say, then?' Gheshtick asked.

Zefru thought the whole conversation was meant to be some kind of prank, but when he began to mock them Gheshtick pushed him away as if he were a troublesome insect. 'What kind of things do animals say?'

'Speaking is giving thoughts to others,' Ereg explained, 'The Ghilil rumbles, growls, tells us to flee. The stag of UngBrusht lifts its tail, and so tells its kin to beware. Men and dwarves have more words, but that is all.'

'And the earth speaks as well?' Gheshtick asked.

'Yes.'

'Through the Jee'Nai? Through the Jinn?' Gheshtick asked.

Ereg nodded.

'What are the Jee'Nai?' Gheshtick asked, hoping to learn still more from the dwarf.

'The Jee'Nai are the ones who understand,' he said, as though that was a simple enough explanation.

'You mean, they understand speech?' Gheshtick asked.

'No. They understand; they stand below - beneath all. They stand under,' Ereg seemed to have exhausted every word of explanation he could remember. Finally he shrugged, 'Just listen.'

'I am trying,' Gheshtick said disappointedly. He could not tell whether he was misunderstanding or if the dwarf was simply mad. 'Is this superstition or brilliance?' he asked himself quietly.

Ereg paused for a moment, and allowed his sons to pass him by.

Gheshtick stopped also, though he was not entirely sure that the dwarf wanted him to do so. He looked at Ereg for a while before finally making up his mind to continue walking. Just before he moved, however, Ereg said, 'The steam of the kettle, snow upon the mountain, the waves of the sea, all is water, but water is none of them. Water is steam, yeah, but steam is not snow or wave. Thus water is not snow, but snow is water - so water is not water. Do you understand? The Jee'Nai are the Elementals - they stand under the Jee, but are higher than them.'

After finishing these puzzling words, Ereg pulled his pack tighter upon his shoulders and marched on, leaving Gheshtick alone in his confusion.

The Scars

After two more days they came to a small village built along the shores of a gentle lake. The people were friendly, and it seemed as though there was nothing they would not trade in exchange for the skins of the Ghilil. The people had no gold, but they offered weapons and supplies and whatever other tools they possessed for the tough leathery flesh of the mysterious lizards. They had no need of weapons, however, so most of the trades were made for food and water-skins, and whatever else they thought might be needed on their journey. When the dwarves had restored all their provisions and made all the preparations they thought they would need they turned their attention to less important things.

Haf'ereg had some repairs made to his boots, Naj'ereg sought out a fletcher and tripled the number of quarrels he bore, and Fas'ereg purchased a vial of green liquor that the village healer called a Potene'dra - which means 'Drink of Strength'.

When each dwarf had acquired a new walking staff and had taken hot baths and braided their hair and beards they gave their remaining skins to the elves. With these they restored their provisions, purchased some clothes for the journey and paid for beds at the inn.

When the morning came they picked up their belongings and left the village with children waving, happy merchants bowing and with their own hearts uplifted. In that serene village it was very difficult to feel anything but hopeful. Even the dwarves, with the exception of Ereg himself, seemed to have a bounce in their step. Naj, the youngest of them, even smiled at some of the villagers as they left.

They followed a gentle path toward the southwest. They wound their way around tall hills of grass for the rest of the day, stopping to camp just off the road beneath a great willow tree. The next day they continued much in the same way, the morning turning into noon and noon into evening without any alteration. But as the sun began to sink toward the west, the wind suddenly changed, and a ghostly silence crept over the land. The birds that sang so beautifully along the road seemed to flee from this place, and the grass suddenly looked pale and dry. They rounded a bend and, all of a sudden, they faced a great chasm like unto nothing the elves had ever seen or imagined.

The gap was not terribly wide - Agonas guessed that three tall pine trees from Ilvas could traverse it, if each was bound end to end. But the depth and length of the chasm was unlike anything he had ever seen before. 'The gods,' Zefru swore, his eyes bulging as though they were ready to leap from his face.

'How could one think such a thing was possible if he had not seen it?' Gheshtick asked. 'It is a marvel! What is this place?'

'This is the first Scar,' Xan said worshipfully. 'There are two more like unto it. According to the dwarves, it is here that the dragon Khuhu'Nai tore at the earth; ages ago when the dwarves wounded him. They say that ten-thousand men of iron battled him here, and in the end they cut off his leg. With his remaining arm he tore at the earth, as if to rend it asunder. No one knows how deep these chasms are, but they are longer than an entire nation, stretching from the dwarf kingdoms of Turg and Fist in the west all the way to the Manlands in the east.'

'Men of iron?' Zefru laughed. 'These are peculiar lands indeed!'

'That is what the dwarves say,' Xan said with a slight grin, obviously satisfied that at least one of his companions found the dwarf tales to be as incredible as he did.

'What are these iron-men?' Gheshtick asked, curious as ever. 'Are they a race of people?'

'They are men of iron, master elf,' Xan laughed, what else would you think?'

'Names are not always framed in such a straight sense,' Gheshtick said.

'The word means men of iron,' Xan said. He paused for a moment and then added, 'And in their tongue it means 'men' and not dwarves.'

'But you said that they believe it was the dwarves who fought the dragon,' Gheshtick said puzzled.

'All that I could learn by way of an explanation is that "the dwarves are in the men," which I have never been able to puzzle out.'

'How will we cross them?' Agonas asked suddenly, turning his thoughts from the grandeur of the scene and from their speculations back to their task. 'Is there a bridge?'

Xan shook his head, saying, 'No one builds or dwells here. It is sacred to the dwarves, terrifying to men, and perilous for all.'

'And this is not the only Scar?' Agonas asked.

'There are three,' Xan said as he breathed deeply.

'Is there no other way for us to travel?' Agonas asked, looking doubtfully at the chasm before him. 'Can they be circumvented?'

'Not without entering Turg or Fist in the west, which are nations unfriendly to Sparkans and humans alike. We could perhaps go into the East, but then we would troubled by the lords of the Manlands, and we would have to pass through UngBrusht and LufBrusht, neither of which are easy to navigate.'

'Then what course shall we take?' Gheshtick asked, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle in front of them. 'Are you saying that we must... cross these Scars?'

'We can,' Ereg said, suddenly breaking into the conversation. 'First we l'speak t' Elementals.'

Xan explained, 'The dwarves say that the Elementals speak more clearly the deeper into the earth one descends. I do not understand it, and I do not believe in their spirits. But they get sound results, and who can argue with that? I know not how, but I know that.' Ereg nodded, as if to show that he approved of Xan's words.

Ereg began to unburden himself, but Gheshtick stopped him. 'May I go also?' he asked the dwarf.

Ereg's sons looked at their father with horror in their eyes. San and Fas stepped forward with anger apparent upon their faces, saying, 'We go!' It was apparent that whatever the dwarf meant to do, they did not want the elves to have any part in it. A whole debate seemed to rage between them as they stood facing one another.

Finally Ereg smiled and said, 'Gaia'd.' His oldest sons grinned and nodded, changing their minds in an instant \- and seeming quite content with the way their 'discussion' had gone. Ereg looked at the elf with a strange expression and then led the party on toward the chasm. Gheshtick did not know what to make of the dwarf's strange actions, but he could not help but think that the strange look he just noticed on Ereg's face was a look of guilt.

Into the Depths

Early the next morning a tremendous coil of rope was pulled out of Naj's pack and fastened to a great boulder that hung over the edge of the chasm. The dwarves tied the knots quickly but carefully, making every effort to ensure that the rope would hold its position despite the stress that would soon be placed upon it. Ereg took hold of the rope and walked to the edge of the Scar. He turned toward Gheshtick and the others and said, 'Fas'ereg, the elf, then San'ereg,' giving the order in which the others were to follow. The younger dwarves, and indeed also the elves, seemed to understand from this expression that no others were to accompany him as he descended into the earth.

The dwarf held fast to the rope and walked backwards over the edge and stood upon the side of the cliff. He did not bother fastening the rope to himself; his only precaution was to wrap the rope once around his wrist. Agonas gasped when he saw him step over the edge. It had never occurred to him that such a thing could be attempted. He had not yet come to understand the strength and endurance of the dwarves, nor did he understand the precision with which they controlled their own bodies. Ereg was as likely to fall, the dwarves knew, as the ocean was likely to freeze over during the night.

After ten minutes had passed Fas took up the rope in the same way his father had. He lifted it with ease, and nodded as he discerned that his father was no longer holding onto it. The elves were all pale-faced and fearful, but the dwarves seemed to think nothing of it. He looked at Gheshtick with an evil grin and leaped over the edge, swinging far from the cliff as he dropped away from sight just short of a free fall. This action almost sent the elves into a horrified panic, but the calm demeanor of their guides kept them from speaking out.

San, the eldest of Ereg's sons, snorted. He took up the rope after five minutes and, noticing the absence of his brother's weight, he handed it to Gheshtick.

Gheshtick walked over toward the edge of the cliff, swallowed hard and then wrapped the rope three times around his arm. The dwarves burst into laughter.

San smiled smugly and took another rope from Naj's sack, tied it to the rock and fastened it to Gheshtick's waist. 'I l'lower you,' he said with a nod.

Gheshtick, feeling only slightly more secure, slipped carefully over the edge. The moment his body was free of the rock he panicked, and kicked his legs wildly. As he looked up toward the top of the rock he saw the laughing faces of the dwarves appear. After all their bearded faces leaned over the edge he saw Xan, carefully peeking down at him with a satisfied grin on his face.

After a moment he regained his courage and began half to climb down the cliffside and half to be lowered into the chasm like a bucket into a well. After about ten minutes he came to rest upon a ledge of rock that jutted out from the wall of the cliff. 'Is this where we will hear the Elementals?' he panted, as Ereg and Fas pulled him onto the rock.

Fas shook his head.

'Three more,' Ereg said, walking slowly toward a large stone jutting out of the ledge. The stone was rounded at the top from long years of wind, rain and rushing waters, but the base of the rock was slightly thinner than the top. There Ereg could see the wear from ages of taut ropes, lowering dwarves into the depths.

This place was not frequented by the Sparkans alone; dwarves from the land of Five Kings, as well as from the northern lands of Turg and Fist visited this place, each seeking the wisdom of the Elementals. It was a sacred place to the dwarves, as far as dwarves are wont to revere anything. It was deep in the earth; closer to that upon which heaven and earth rested. And how solid must that foundation be! The dwarves did not even have a word for it, for even their word for earth was impossible to utter in a sufficient tone to express its solidity.

Ereg ran his fingers across the worn form of the stone, remembering the time when his own father had brought him to this place. The way to the Place of Hearing, which is what the dwarves called the place to which they were descending, was a secret among the dwarves. He knew that his father would not have permitted these elves to manipulate him, nor would he bring them to this sacred place. But he had been feeling a stirring in the earth long before the elves came, and long before Dan'ereg had been kidnapped. Some of the others in Sparka had felt it also, but they could not hope to discern it from the surface. He hoped that the Elementals would have an answer.

San's descent was quicker than his father's, but not as reckless as that of Fas, who seemed as interested in demonstrating his skill and courage as he was in their task. Almost as soon as San reached the ledge Ereg tied another rope to the top of the stone and began climbing down. Each dwarf carried enough rope to continue this method of descent another five times.

This time Fas descended in the same, somewhat careful way that San had, since there was no longer anyone to impress. He acted as though Gheshtick was not present, however, and neither looked at him nor spoke to him.

After their second descent, Gheshtick noticed that the morning light had all but vanished, leaving them in what seemed like an untimely dusk. By the time they reached the third ledge the light very nearly vanished away. The sun was nearly at its highest, but down where the dwarves sought the Elementals it was as dark as night. A frightful silence seemed to creep over the cliffside as they climbed down past birds' nests and snake holes, coming to a damp and empty place far beneath the surface of the earth. The air was thick and Gheshtick found that he had to fight hard for every breath. The dwarves, conversely, seemed to breath more easily and comfortably in this strange place.

The fourth ledge, much to Gheshtick's dismay, was not located immediately beneath the others. The dwarves took up their packs and made their way along narrow, slippery paths and down treacherous slopes as they descended still further, finally coming to another jutting rock ledge. Again they descended, this time into complete darkness. Gheshtick could do nothing but cling to the rope as San slowly lowered him over the edge. As he made this final descent he began to notice what seemed to him to be a distant rumble.

When at last he reached the bottom, Ereg pulled him into the mouth of a stone cave. The dwarf then guided him to a flat place where he could sit and rest. After untying his ropes he gave him water to drink from a skin. 'Wait,' Ereg said before vanishing from his vision. In a short while he returned with Fas and San in his train. 'The Hearing Stone is farther down,' he explained, offering his hand to help the elf to his feet.

Gheshtick rose and took up the rear, following the dwarves into the dark tunnel. After the light from the cave vanished from view, Gheshtick stopped and said, 'Can we have a light? I am no good in these dark passages.'

The younger dwarves snickered, but Ereg shuffled around in the dark for a minute, finally lighting a torch and passing it first to San and then to Fas, and finally into Gheshtick's hands.

'Thank you,' Gheshtick said. He found it surprisingly easy to keep his patience since he was essentially helpless in these depths.

An hour or two seemed to pass and the rough ground wound steadily downward into the heart of the earth. Gheshtick marveled at the cave, for it was clearly no natural cavern - it had been carved by hand ages ago by dwarves miners. Just as he was preparing to exclaim his amazement at their accomplishment, however, the party entered a large open area. A gust of hot air struck his skin and he gasped, filling his lungs with a wretched odor. He coughed, attempted to fill his lungs once again, and fell to the ground clawing at the stone floor. The sounds in the cave grew distant, and he thought he could hear the sound of laughter echoing a hundred times throughout the chamber. His mind slowly faded into a dark, nightmarish slumber. The last thing he saw as his eyes grew dim was the flicker of his tying torch. He could not discern which flickered out first, the light or his own awareness.

'Up with 'em,' Ereg commanded impatiently. His sons sniffed, but obeyed without any delay. They roughly dragged the unconscious elf out of the chamber and back up the tunnel to a place where the air was still breathable.

San leaned in and listened to his chest for a moment before, satisfied that the elf yet lived, he turned back to return to his father.

Ereg had not waited for them, but had begun making his way across the large chamber. By the time his sons reached him he was standing before a great stone door etched with elaborate carvings of beasts and dwarves. San and Fas stood there bewildered; they could discern that the carvings were a lock of some sort, but they had no idea how the door might be opened.

'Watch,' Ereg said firmly, giving the command only because of the importance of what he was about to do, and not because he had any doubts about his sons' attentiveness. In a frenzy of motion Ereg began sliding his fingers along the etchings upon the door, his skilled hands carefully manipulating tiny levers and switches as he unlocked the great stone door. After about a minute there was a loud snap and the door creaked open upon steel hinges. San and Fas looked at one another solemnly; for they were now privy to a secret the dwarves shared only with their own race. They would not need to see again what their father had done. They remembered every movement and every switch he had touched. They would be able to do it themselves the next time they came without any further instruction. They followed Ereg into the chamber.

The room into which they had entered had a low ceiling; in some places the rocks above them nearly came down to touch the stony floor. There were four stands in each corner into which one might place a lit torch. But Ereg was content with the darkness. Dwarves could not see quite so well in the pitch dark as they could with a lamp or a torch, but they could see well enough for their purposes. Ereg had visited this place once before with his own father, and knew the shape of the chamber well enough from memory. His sons had heard it described before, and would therefore know enough to find their way without too much difficulty. Fas struck his head upon something, but he quickly shut his eyes and swallowed his pain, lest the others think he had injured himself through clumsiness - a thing to which no dwarf would ever admit.

In the center of the chamber was a great pool formed from a tiny trickle of cold water that dripped from the ceiling of the cave. 'Behold,' Ereg said, 'Ocreov, portal t' Elementals. Listen t' voice of t' earth; listen t' voice of t' Jee'Nai.' This last word was spoken in as low a tone as Ereg could manage, and his voice almost sounded like the rumble of thunder. The brothers began to feverishly remove their gear and to strip off their clothing. Soon the three dwarves sat beside the water in nothing but their undergarments, breathing deeply and calmly. 'We must fill ourselves with the Jee,' Ereg said as he closed his eyes and began a long slow breath. His sons imitated him, each one taking deep, purposeful breaths, and letting their chests rise and fall at a set rhythm.

Ocreov

After nearly ten minutes of careful breathing, Ereg inhaled sharply. His sons opened their eyes for a moment, and saw that he was now looking at them. He nodded to Fas, and then shut his eyes once more to resume his breathing. Fas rose slowly, his chest still rising in rhythm with his father and brother. He stepped slowly into the water and made his way toward the center of the pool where the water was the deepest. The water was extremely cold, but he did not hesitate as it enveloped his flesh. His beard reached the surface of the water, and in another moment his head sunk beneath the cold liquid.

The water entered his ears as he descended into the dark water, and soon his foot stepped beyond the bottom of the pool and left him floating in the middle of the water. Great and terrible sounds echoed in his ears, sounds from regions of the world that could not be seen or reached, sounds from his own home, and a great rumble that sounded almost like the very breath of the earth. In that place a dwarf could discern the rumblings of things great and small as they occurred throughout the land of Kharku. The most adept among them could sense when a bird alighted on a twig on a mountaintop four-hundred leagues distant. Such a gift was rare, and those who possessed it were called 'Hearers'.

Ereg's great-grandfather had been such a man. When he visited the Ocreov he learned that the Drake'Ya was on the move and heading into the Northwest. He warned the people of Sparka, and sent messengers to the kingdoms of Turg and Fist. The messengers never arrived, however, and the Beast ravaged their lands, while the people of Sparka survived unvexed.

The other nations did not forgive Ereg's people for this failure, and they severed their ties, denouncing them as enemies.

Compared to the thunderous crashing and tearing of the earth that was heard by Ereg's ancestor, the sounds that made their way into Fas'ereg's ears were subtle and quiet. He kept himself still and listened attentively for as long as he was able. In the end his lungs began to burn and he was driven against his will to the surface.

He burst from the Ocreov and gasped for air, spluttering and choking as he struggled in the darkness. San and Ereg remained perfectly still, their chests yet maintaining the rhythm they had established before he entered the pool. They did this as much to prepare themselves for the waters as they did to avoid disturbing Fas as he listened to the Elementals.

Without a word Fas took his former place and began breathing in the same way as the others. At first his breaths were heavy and labored, but as time wore on he grew calm and his chest fell into the same pattern as his fellows.

When at last the three of them were breathing in unison, San rose from his place, gently stepping into the pool. His experience was much the same as his brother's, and about ten minutes after he entered, he returned, panting for breath at the pool's edge. When at last his breathing returned to normal, Ereg spoke, saying, 'What say't they?'

Fas opened his eyes and looked at his brother. San nodded, and Fas began to speak, explaining every sound and every rumble he felt while he was submersed. 'I hear't it,' he said, shaking his head in disbelief. 'I hear't it breathing. In t' south, on a mountain, resting.'

San nodded quickly in affirmation, for he had come to the same conclusion.

Ereg looked into each of their eyes in turn, taking nearly a minute to examine their faces.

'What else hear't?' Ereg asked.

'War-sounds,' San said, looking to Fas for affirmation. 'In Turg and Fist armies prepare, t' fight one another, or, together, t' fight against t' land of t' Five Kings.'

'Sparka l'be call't t' war also,' Ereg said with a sigh. Though the men of Turg and Fist hated the Sparkans, they would expect them to march to war with them, if conflict broke out between their nations and the land of the Five Kings. He shook his head in frustration before he remembered to swallow his feelings.

It all came from carelessness with words, he thought to himself. The other dwarves were not so bad as the Coastmen with their lingual errors, but still, as far as dwarves go, they were careless. This was especially true of the land of the Five Kings, which named the border regions according to the nations to which they were adjacent. The northernmost kingdom, for instance, was named 'Antfister', which literally means, 'Against the land of Fist'. It was so named because of its location, and not out of any special hatred of its northern neighbors. As much as this peculiar naming convention caused trouble with the northern lands of Fist and Turg, it paled in comparison with the troubles that arose with the eastern kingdom, which was named, 'Antsesno' or, 'Against the Kingdom of Seasons'. The dwarves of Turg and Fist could, so long as there were no other hostilities, understand their southern kin. But the men of the southeastern region of Kharku took the name as a perpetual declaration of war, and utterly refused to permit any dwarf within their lands. Many wars had been fought between the two nations, and the lands to the southwest of the Sesan Lake were all but deserted and desolate. If any man or dwarf entered those lands it was taken as an act of aggression.

'I l'hear what I l'hear,' Ereg said, rising deftly from the stone floor and wading quickly but gently into the water. In a moment his hair vanished beneath the surface and in another moment the whole pool was calm once again.

The Elementals came to him, each one crying out in a thousand voices. He heard at once the distant rumble of the Drake'Ya's breath. The Beast lay in the sun on the eastern slopes of Sodeppa Mountain, where it might rest under the warm rays of the rising son. But Ereg could sense an unease in the creature's breathing, as if the beast wearied of its sleep. It did not sound as it had the last time he had come to the Hearing Stone - which is the name the dwarves had given to the pool (Remember, they have only one word for all substances, and the importance of this body of water was enough to merit the word 'stone', which they would typically reserve only for hard substances). When he had come with his father the beast slept deeply, its breathing slow and measured, as if it were the heartbeat of the earth itself. But he heard irregularities, and slight disturbances in its respiration. 'It l'wake soon,' he said within himself. 'Drake'Ya l'wake to feed, and Kharku l'suffer.'

He could also discern some unrest in the west, where a great number of people gathered in Turg and Fist, their armored footsteps shaking the ground. The pattering of their feet was slight, and it was not easy to tell what they were doing or how many of them there were, but Ereg could tell that some great force was assembling.

He cast his attention about, learning whatever he could from each corner of Kharku, listening carefully to every tremor and carefully considering the motions that came into his ears from the farthest corners of the land. He began to call out within his mind, 'Ocreov! Ocreov! What is this rumbling in Turg? What is the rumbling in Fist?'

After a pause, a voice seemed to spring up from within his own mind. 'I am Ocreov, ask me what you will.' Before his eyes the water seemed suddenly illuminated, as if a tiny star had fallen into it.

'What hear't?' Ereg asked the Elemental, when at last it stood before him.

'I have heard everything, from the Peppered Desert to the Kingdom of Seasons. I have heard the trouble in Turg and I have felt the unease in Fist. The nations prepare for war, and Turg will call upon Sparka when the battle goes ill.'

'It l'go ill?' Ereg asked.

'In Fist there has been born one of the golem riders, and there are now seven golems marching among their warriors. Antfister is shaken to the core, and they have sent many gifts to Fist, and have all but offered their allegiance.'

'Such alliance l'mean death for Turg,' Ereg realized. The single nation, mighty though its warriors were, could not hold out against the combined might of the land of Five Kings, certainly not if they were also allied with the land of Fist. But more troubling to him was the idea that Turg would seek help from Sparka.

In all the strife between Turg and Fist, the dwarves of Turg refused to seek aid from Sparka. But if there were golems in Fist, they might very well decide to forget their grudge and ask Ereg's people for aid. The Sparkans would, essentially, be swallowed up as a people by Turg for the sake of this war. 'What l'happen t' Sparka?' Ereg asked urgently. He was beginning to feel pain in his lungs as his body cried out for air.

'Sparka will be no more,' the water elemental said coldly. 'Those who survive will dwell with the outcasts of Turg in the Peppered Desert, far from their old homes.'

'The Coastmen?' Ereg asked.

'They are already dead,' the elemental said.

Ereg gasped and then spluttered with the surprise. 'What you say't?'

'The Coastmen are already dead,' the elemental repeated, without emotion.

Ereg shook his head. 'How could this be?' he asked himself. 'What happen't?'

'Can Sparka be save't? Ereg asked quickly, knowing that his time was running short indeed.

'To the Peppered Desert you must go, whether you join with Turg or refuse.'

'Sparkans never l'go,' Ereg said, fear threatening to overcome his control. They would die - every soul among them would die before leaving their home for the goblin ruled northern desert.

'Then they are as dead as the Coastmen,' the elemental said as it flickered into nothingness. As soon as the light of the elemental vanished darkness overwhelmed Ereg and he knew nothing.

A few moments later Ereg awoke at the edge of the pool, his two sons standing over him with as much worry on their faces as dwarves allow themselves to reveal. When he had not returned after so long submersed they grew worried, and Fas finally gave in and dove in after his father. San was reluctant to interrupt his father's work, but when he saw how little strength remained in Ereg he was glad, if only this once, that Fas was so rash and headstrong.

'I live,' Ereg muttered weakly. 'We all live, for now.'

[Chapter IV:  
The Gargantan](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Path

It was the tenth day of Florhus, according to the Albori reckoning, when at last the elves and dwarves were ready to continue their journey. It had taken a while for Ereg and Gheshtick to recover from their time within the Scar. Gheshtick was in worse shape than was Ereg, and the dwarves made as if they were waiting for the elf to fully recover before they resumed their journey. Zefru, alone among the elves, suspected as much.

In truth they were only concerned that Ereg should have as much rest as he needed. In this way they retained their sturdy reputation while appearing generous and patient at the same time.

While he was recovering Ereg's sons hunted, dried meat, and made many preparations for the coming journey. When they heard about the growing perils in the West, and how Sparka was all but doomed, they were half of a mind to return at once and abandon the elves.

'Mm,' Ereg grunted at them. 'We l'slay Drake'Ya, then Fist, Antfister, Five Kings l'tremble.' That was his only hope - their only hope. He knew too much to think that the elementals could be wrong. The Jinn speak only truth, he knew, but perhaps he had not fully understood them.

That evening the dwarves made a great fire and cooked what meat they did not intend to carry on their journey. Every member of their strange party was present for this little feast, and the subject of their mission was the first thing to be discussed.

'Have the Jinn spoken to you, master Ereg?' Xan asked, when at last each member of the group was seated and given his portion. 'Did they tell you which way we must go?' Xan was sure that the dwarves had learned something. He knew that the dwarves had some way of reading the signs of the earth, but he refused to believe Ereg's nonsense about rocks speaking.

'Yes,' Ereg affirmed, drawing every eye to his flame illumined face. 'Drake'Ya rests on Sodeppa, past Spires, past GarBrusht, past Deplund.'

'What are these places?' Agonas asked, looking seriously at the dwarf.

Xan answered with a sigh, knowing that the dwarf would not be willing to give any satisfactory answers. It seemed to Xan as though the dwarves expected others to know everything already. 'The Spires are the great mountains that lie in the center of Kharku, dividing the forests, or "Brushts" as they are called, and separating the northern land, where the weather is ever warm, from the southern Kindgom of Seasons. Deplund is the birthplace of the dwarves, according to our companions; it is a strange and mysterious place. It is said that the dwarves held it to be so sacred that they refused to enter it. Now it is ruled by goblins of the worst sort - and worse than goblins too, if the legends are worth anything. GarBrusht is the lair of the Gargantan-'

'The Gargantan?' Gheshtick interrupted. 'I have never heard of such a beast.'

'The Gargantan,' Xan said, now wishing he could get away with the terse explanations a dwarf, 'stands thrice the height of a man at least, and can slay a man with a single blow. Gargantan,' Xan explained, 'in the tongue of Kharku, means 'Giant'.

'And how will we bypass this creature's lair?' Agonas said, returning their attention to the matter of planning.

'Mm,' Ereg said, 'We l'not. We must go through Manlands, Spires or Fist and Turg if not GarBrusht.'

'But why not pass through the Manlands?' Zefru asked hopefully. 'It sounds much better than any of the other choices.'

'Perhaps for you,' Xan said. 'But I am Adapnan. The men of that land know and hate me. And I daresay you are Adapnan as well - if my guesses have been correct. Even if they allowed us to pass, they would not ever permit a group of six armed dwarves pass through their kingdoms.'

'Why should they fear six dwarves so?' Zefru asked.

Gheshtick looked at him fiercely, and Zefru leaned away from the fire so that his face would vanish from sight.

Ereg's face looked as though it were made of stone, and Fas began to stir as though he was prepared to rise and slay Zefru that very moment. The tension was broken by Xan, however, who burst out laughing, 'That is a good jest, my friend. A good jest! The Manlanders not fearing six dwarves - six dwarves!'

The elves could tell that his laughter was feigned, but the dwarves seemed to accept it as an indication that Zefru really was making a jest. Xan leaned in close to Zefru and whispered, 'Ere the end you will understand just how foolish were those remarks. Our alliance with them is not so sound that we can afford to be careless with their pride.'

Agonas broke in after Xan's laughter had subsided, saying, 'What of the Spires? Can we cross the mountains, and so avoid the lair of the Gargantan?'

'No,' Xan explained. 'Nothing can cross the Spires, save the Fire Bird.' At that name the dwarves grew restless for an instant. On Xan's face was a satisfied grin. He knew how much they hated even the idea that there should be so great a creature to lord it over the thin air above. 'And we cannot pass through Turg or Fist, since they are not friends of the Sparkans.'

Ereg nodded, affirming that Xan had understood the matter properly. He said nothing that whole evening concerning what he had learned about Thure or about the perils soon to come against the Sparkans. There was nothing Xan could do about it anyway, he reasoned, and when at last the day came for him to learn about it he would never suspect that the dwarf had known about it already. 'He l'mourn that day,' Ereg thought to himself. 'Now he l'have peace.'

'But do not the Scars stretch, in the west, all the way to Turg and Fist, and in the east, to the Manlands? How will we go south then, and how will we come to the GarBrusht?' Gheshtick asked.

Ereg smiled, 'Rope,' he said with a slight smile. Gheshtick shook his head - he did not think that he would like whatever it was that Ereg was planning.

'We l'cross t' Scars tomorrow,' Ereg said in closing, 'follow Digra betwixt t' western mountains, then enter GarBrusht from t' north.'

His tone seemed somehow to imply that the council was at an end, and that nothing more was to be said. He rose, waited a moment for his sons to follow him, and then walked away toward his own encampment.

The Crossing

At first light the dwarves arose and hurriedly packed all their gear for the journey. What they could not bring they cast solemnly into the Scars where it quickly vanished from sight. They spent a good portion of the morning searching the cliffside for an area that was flat and secure. When at last they decided on a place nearly a half-mile east of their encampment they set to work constructing what looked to the elves to be an enormous bow with a thin rope for a string. When this strange device was at last assembled they tied a rope to the end of one of Jah'Ereg's throwing spears and nocked the whole spear back upon the string. They carefully lay the coil upon the ground and inspected it carefully for knots. When they were satisfied that it would unravel without catching they began to slowly move the bow into place, Ereg directing them with careful hand motions. They spent nearly a half hour finding their target, which Ereg said was a tree on the other side of the Scar.

When all was ready Haf'Ereg pulled the spear back and released in one smooth motion. The elves watched in amazement as the spear flew across the chasm, unraveling the coil of rope as it went. In a short span the spear struck the tree and pierced the trunk, making a loud whacking noise. The dwarves pulled hard at the remaining rope to test its strength. When Ereg nodded his approval they tied the other end to a great stone and began disassembling their great bow. Gheshtick hissed with terror when he saw Naj, still bearing his enormous pack, slide carelessly over the cliffside, grasping the rope with his hands and slowly making his way over the great pit. The rope sagged under his weight, and the sack seemed to want to pull his tiny body into the Scar, but the dwarf's iron grip did not waver or struggle.

Agonas remained silent as Jah'Ereg and San, the eldest, began to cross as well, dragging the rope still lower into the pit under their weight. 'They trust themselves,' Zefru marveled. 'More than I trust myself to be sure. And more than I trust them also.'

'And they trust their ropes as well,' Gheshtick said, thinking back on his descent to the Place of Hearing. 'But we cannot cross this way, my lord,' he said, turning toward Agonas.

Agonas looked to Xan, who shook his head and spread his arms.

Agonas called to Ereg, 'Master dwarf, how shall we cross - we have not fingers of steel as do your sons.'

'Wait,' he said, turning away from the elves to give some commands to his sons. When Jah, San and Naj finally made it to the opposite cliff, the other dwarves began to cross. First Fas, then Haf, each bearing their weapons and their packs as if they weighed nothing at all.

The marvel rendered Zefru silent, as there was nothing to do but to stand in amazement at their strength.

Before Haf went out onto the rope he tied a black cord to the same stone to which was already tied the rope the others had used to cross the Scar. Then, taking the other end of the cord and tying it to his belt, he crossed the chasm, making his way south across the thin air. When he reached the other side he climbed down to a ledge that stood about twenty feet beneath the cliff's edge. There he bound the other end of the rope.

'Give me your packs,' Ereg commanded the elves.

Xan hurriedly handed his own burden to Ereg. Soon all their heavy gear was tied together and slung over the black cord. Ereg released their belongings, which immediately dropped over the edge, sliding along the cord to the other side of the Scar where Haf waited. 'That is how you l'cross,' he said with a smile as he watched their amazed faces. 'Hold this,' he said to Gheshtick, handing him a short cord, seemingly of the same make as that of the black cord Haf had bourne in his crossing.

Gheshtick nervously approached the edge. He looked back at the others for a moment, and saw their anxious expressions. Their fear certainly did nothing to encourage him. He clenched the cord in his fist, put the other end over the black cord and breathed deeply.

Ereg stepped toward him and added, 'Hold it tight.' If he had been speaking to a dwarf, he would never have added such a statement - of course you should hold it tight! And had it been another elf making the crossing, he might have left out the detail just to see what would come of them. But he felt that somehow Gheshtick could be an ally for Sparka. And they would need allies soon enough.

A moment later he was in the air, soaring across the chasm, his stomach in a flutter and his arms shaking as they struggled to hold onto the cord that alone separated him from death. It was not until he neared the other side that he realized that he was screaming like a terror-stricken child.

Haf bore a broad grin on his face as he caught the elf and helped him onto the ledge. A few moments later Udraja slid onto the ledge, his whole body shaking from fright. The other elves were in a similar state - Xan rushed to the cliff and clutched at the rock wall as if it were a long lost lover. Agonas was nearly sick when he reached the others, though he tried to pretend that the crossing had not affected him.

Zefru alone crossed without any great signs of distress. When he neared the ledge Haf moved aside and allowed him to land on his feet gracefully. He snickered when he saw the others, pale-faced and sickly looking, staring at him with obvious consternation. He smiled, but said nothing. The look on their faces was as satisfying as any jest would have been.

A rope descended from the cliff above and the elves quickly climbed up, coming to stand on the other side of the Scar at last.

Ereg, coming last, untied the black cord and let it fall limply over the edge. Haf quickly pulled it up and wrapped it into a coil on the ledge where the other end was tied. Ereg untied his end of the original rope as well, tying it carefully to a boulder. When he stepped out over the edge to climb across, the boulder moved several feet under his weight, but ultimately came to a halt. Ereg hung over the edge in a careful balance, trying to cross without upsetting the boulder, which was just heavy enough to bear his weight. When at last he made it to the other side - and it took him a good while owing to the fact that he had to cross slowly to avoid pulling the boulder over the edge - he gave the rope a strong tug and pulled the boulder off the edge. As it fell it slipped out of the knot he had tied and fell loosely against the cliff wall even as the boulder crashed against the rocks below.

The dwarves bundled up their things and prepared to continue the journey. The elves were utterly speechless.

A Real Ikwa

In this way they continued their journey southward, stopping to camp at the edge of the second and then third Scars. The dwarves would not dare attempt a crossing if they did not know that they had the full day's length before them.

On the second evening after they resumed their journey, Gheshtick reminded Xan of his promise - to consider the 'proofs' of the Essenes.

He agreed reluctantly, however, and insisted that their time would be better spent in rest, 'or in babbling,' he sneered. 'But nevertheless, tell me what these mortals have to say about the gods.'

Gheshtick thought carefully for a time, and finally said, 'The Essenes insist that a thing can only share in either good or ill if it is a thing of reality and not of imagination. Thus, whatever it is, it is better if it is real than if it is imaginary. For only if it is real can it be good. And it is at least better to have the possibility of good than to have none. There is something that is the very best of all things. This thing, which must be real in order to partake in goodness, therefore must be. For, it being best, must by its very nature partake of reality. And so, it being real, cannot be unreal - for that would be a contradiction.'

'You have this argument well rehearsed,' Xan observed. He nodded for a time and then smiled, saying, 'I think I know this thing - this best thing of which you speak.'

Gheshtick looked at him puzzled.

'It is an Ikwa, I think,' Xan said with a grin. 'A REAL Ikwa.'

'What is an Ikwa?' Gheshtick asked.

'Well, an Ikwa,' Xan answered, 'is a creature of the Peppered Desert. According to legend, this creature is something like a tiny goblin. It's complexion is white, however, like the snow atop the mountains and it runs about completely unclothed. It's skin is said to be made of oil, and it is as fast as lightning. Yet, if one is fortunate enough to capture the creature, it will grant him whatsoever his heart desires.'

'If I have learned anything about you, I have learned to discern when you hold an idea in disdain. I suspect there is no such creature?' Gheshtick asked, knowing already what the other would answer.

'That remains to be seen,' Xan answered. 'Perhaps it will become real over the course of our discussion. Gheshtick looked at him strangely, but he continued, 'Now, granted, the Ikwa is a fiction. No man has ever seen it - it appears only in the fairy tales that people in the Manlands teach their kids. It is something like the story where a poor woman gets a pot that, when spun three times and knocked upon, produces a boiled ham. But she forgets how to make it stop producing boiled hams. By the end of the story so many boiled hams lay about rotting in the village streets that the Beast itself awakes and consumes the hams, the village and the woman alike. It is a fable made to teach the impoverished that there is a danger in having too much as well as too little.

'So also the Ikwa would come and give a man exactly what he desired. And it would typically bring him to ruin, although there are some stories where the Ikwa is outwitted. But even then, such stories generally speak of one escaping the Ikwa's traps, and not actually attaining their desires without dire consequences. Now, it cannot be denied that, if there is not, perhaps, an Ikwa, there is at least the thought of such a creature. I mean, we could not speak of it if it were not so. Do you admit as much?'

'I should think so,' Gheshtick answered.

'And now consider...,' Xan began slowly, 'There is also the idea of a real Ikwa. I mean, you can imagine that such a think might exist. It is not like white darkness, or something absurd like that. You can think of an imaginary companion, just as children are wont to do. And then there are real companions. So there is a difference between them, or else there would be no difference. Do you see what I mean?'

'You mean simply that that there is a difference between a real friend and a friend pretended,' Gheshtick answered.

'No, I mean there is a difference between the thoughts of them - between the thought of a friend and the thought of an imaginary friend. If there were not, you could never distinguish them in your mind.'

'I suppose that is true enough,' Gheshtick agreed.

'But then, what is the difference? Is it not that one is real and the other not?'

'Yes, I think that is correct.'

'But lo, would it not be absurd to say that the real friend is not a real friend?'

'That would be to oppose one's own words,' Gheshtick affirmed.

'Then what is the difference between a real Ikwa and a false one? Is it not that the one contains within it the word 'real', and therefore, like the great god of the Essenes, must exist? For to deny the reality of a real Ikwa would be to contradict oneself - since it is real only for being real.'

Gheshtick looked somewhat disappointed as he gave consideration to what had just been said.

'But consider the ground upon which we affirm all things to be real,' Xan said thoughtfully. 'How long can a man live, who does not appear in time - who lives not for a moment and dies afterwards?'

'I suppose he lives for no time at all,' Gheshtick said.

'Exactly, and could not a million such men live, say, between this word and the next? Their whole lives may pass in an instant - nay, they do not pass at all, for a passing implies a being and then a not being, which would be two moments, or at least a single moment. But if a thing occupies no time at all - well, the gods help us - ANYTHING could be real!'

'So you are saying that it is in standing in time that a thing has its reality, and that if it matters not what our thoughts on the matter be,' Gheshtick asked.

'That is what I would say to your Essenes,' Xan answered.

After a long silence Gheshtick nodded, 'I think that makes sense to me. I thank you for sharing your mind, master Xan of Thure. I shall give this greater thought hereafter. I would continue with my queries,' he said, 'but we should rest for the last crossing, and I would not have us fall into the belly of the earth for having stayed up too late pondering the doctrines of mortals.'

'Nay,' Xan said, 'we do not want to become mortal ourselves! Though there would perhaps be some comedy in such a turn.'

The next morning the elves and dwarves crossed the third Scar. By this time even the elves crossed skillfully and without much anxiety.

Ereg nodded approvingly as they passed over the chasm and landed deftly upon a great jut of rock on the southern cliff wall. There was, perhaps, more to these men than he had first assumed. If they could keep their heads, perhaps they might truly bring down the Drake'Ya. But when he thought of the beast, this confidence vanished away.

The Gargantan

The party walked west for three days, following the contour of the Southern Scar to avoid the rocky and mountainous terrain that lay just to their south. As they went on the southern landscape opened up to a flatter, though more barren place. In the afternoon on the third day after their final crossing, however, a great roar slowly rose in their ears. 'A fall,' Agonas said, his eyes wide. They had passed several streams and two small rivers that ran north from the mountains over the edge of the Scar, and the sight of the water rushing over the edge to vanish into the seemingly bottomless pit was awe inspiring.

But no word of preparation could have made them ready for what unfolded before their sight. The whole earth seemed to break away from them as they looked out upon the western horizon. They came to the edge of a great waterfall, one whose western bank could not be seen for its immensity. An ocean seemed to pour over its edge, thundering into the depths in a rage. The sight was enough to make even the dwarves feel faint. For thus far only Ereg and San had ever seen these lands. The other dwarves stood just as open mouthed as the elves.

'This is where the high gods are said to have promised to cleanse the earth of the Yaha'Nai's evil, Xan said. 'For a hundred thousand years these waters must flow, until at last the Scars the Dragon inflicted upon the earth are filled. Then the Fire Bird will come and roost upon the Mountain, and the coolness of its shadow will freeze the whole land of Kharku until the time has come for the rebirth of the world.'

Gheshtick listened to his tale enthusiastically, taking advantage of every opportunity to learn something novel.

Zefru shook his head with wide eyes. 'Please tell me that we are not crossing this on ropes and cords!' he said weakly.

Ereg laughed and then pointed toward the south. 'We l'follow Digra south,' he said through his chuckles. Apparently the elf's anxiety was as good as a joke for him. 'There is a crossing.'

The party continued south, following the river's edge whenever possible, but never traveling beyond earshot of the water's rushing flow. 'Easy t' get lost,' Ereg said, explaining why it was so important to keep close to the Digra. There were many hills and forests, valleys and streams in this land, all intertwining and weaving their through the land.

It certainly would be easy to lose oneself in these lands, Agonas thought.

It took them four days to find a place that was suitable for crossing. Their pace had slowed somewhat, as the land began to rise steeply into the mountains where the river originated. Also the air began to grow colder. This was partly due to their elevation, but also due to the fact that they were traveling into the southern part of Kharku. 'Beyond the mountains lies the Kingdom of Seasons,' Xan explained, 'So named because, unlike the northern lands of Kharku, which are always hot, the weather in the southern realm cycles through hot and cold, summer, winter, autumn and spring. It is drawing near winter in Sesno.'

'Sesno?' Agonas asked.

'That is the name of the King's city,' he explained. 'And we would do well to keep away from there so long as we are in the company of dwarves. The Sparkans were not the ones so foolish as to name their nation as if it were a challenge to the power of Sesno itself - I speak here of the dwarf kingdom of Antsesno - but the people of the south do not care to 'separate hairs' as their expression goes. All dwarves are hated there, and we would do well to avoid it.'

'We l'enter,' Ereg interrupted. 'We must come to Sodeppa from the south.'

'If it must be so, then it must be so,' Xan said. 'But we should do so secretly, if possible. It would be a shame to make it past the Gargantan only to rot in a Sesno dungeon.'

After crossing the Digra in a shallow place where the water was never more than three feet deep, the terrain became more and more difficult. At many points they were forced to hike several leagues from the water in order to find a suitable place to continue their southward journey. Eventually they came to a small mountain lake where the Digra parted ways with the Gargra. 'The Gargra feeds the GarBrusht, and the Gargantan also,' Xan said as he indicated that their path now led them into the southwest.

The dwarves spent three days there catching and then drying lake fish.

'We will not starve, at least,' Zefru said as he watched the six dwarves working.

On the last day of Florhus they gathered up their belongings and began their descent into the vale of the Gargantan. The Gargra River wound its way through the land, curving sharply to flow south, abandoning the Digra altogether. It cascaded down a series of falls, the sight of which was only to be topped by the grandeur of the Digra Falls to the north, which I have already mentioned. The Gargra Falls were not so large, but they fell over a wild and unpredictable landscape, making it look as though the whole mountainside was bursting forth water like a rotting dam. Among these falls the dwarves and elves now climbed, making their way slowly and cautiously down the mossy rocks to the bottom, where a great pool of crystal clear water awaited them.

Gheshtick was growing quite adept at such rope-work, but the party very nearly lost Udraja, whose only climbing experience thus far had been a few small cliffs and the crossing of the Scars. Zefru beat even the dwarves to the bottom, though he slid uncontrollably for a good portion of his descent. Fortunately for him, however, he landed on his feet and so more than retained his good image.

'Beware,' was all that Ereg said when at last they had reached the bottom. The high cliff wall blocked out nearly all the light of the sun, leaving them in a perpetual twilight. Night came fast, and the dwarves refused to light a fire. The elves remained utterly silent, not sure just what kind of danger they would find in this Gargantan.

For a week they walked, almost on tip-toe the whole time it seemed, deeper into the GarBrusht. Flies the like of which the elves (excepting Xan of course) had never seen bit at their necks and ears, leaving trickles of blood in their wake. Agonas had taken to slicing them in half with his sword, but Ereg told him to cease, as even the sound of his blade might stir up the wrath of the Gargantan. The dwarf and his sons were so fearful of the might of this creature that some part of him suspected that perhaps the Gargantan was, in fact, the very beast he had come to slay. If it was as large and as mighty as Ereg insisted, then perhaps he might kill it and bring it back in lieu of the true Beast. After all, no one in Sunlan would have imagined such a beast to be possible. They would not question him as to whether or not it was, truly, THE greatest of all Beasts.

But he knew that Pelas would not make such a choice, and if for no other reason than to remain his brothers equal (at least), he drove the thought from his head without delay. He would have to do this right, and he would have to do it completely. Ever since they were children he knew that his own survival depended upon it. But more than this, his brother depended upon it. If ever they fell out of balance with one another, the forces and powers of Bel Albor would drag them away from one another forever. He knew this, and he knew that Pelas understood it as well. 'Once false act,' he thought to himself, 'One mistake, and the whole scale shall tip, and both of us will fall, whichever way the scale leans.'

After nearly a second week of this slow, silent wandering, they came to a small clearing. Zefru peered into the clearing from behind a bush. He had proved himself to be the most silent, and so they made him go ahead to scout things out whenever their way was doubtful. He had already spied out nearly two dozen such clearings, and he felt very little apprehension about them now. But this time he froze in his place as if he had been turned to stone. Agonas rushed, quietly, to his side with his sword drawn and ready. For an instant, he also froze. Before him were two enormous, hair-covered legs with bald feet and nails like a man's.

Soon Ereg stood beside him and then Xan. The rest did not move any closer, their apprehension overpowering their curiosity.

'Gargantan?' Agonas whispered.

Xan nodded and then whispered in affirmation, 'Gargantan.'

A sly grin came across Agonas' face as he looked at the creature. Huge and strong as it was, it had not yet noticed them. There it was, not ten paces from his drawn sword, and it knew not that so many lay hidden nearby. With a quick motion to the other elves he ducked into the bush and crawled through the brush as quietly as he was able.

Xan spluttered and hissed something, no doubt trying to warn him of his folly.

He rushed from his hiding place in a flash, his sword a blur as it cut through flesh and bone, severing the creature's leg from its body. A tremendous howl of terror and pain filled the air as the Gargantan bellowed in agony. In the next instant Gheshtick was standing beside him, slashing at the monster with his broadsword. Amerlu and Udraja rushed in next and, with their swords, brought the creature to the ground. It writhed in terror and pain for a moment before Agonas cut its head from its body, his dwarf-steel blade easily passing through the bone.

'This is your Gargantan!' Agonas said proudly, shaking the blood from his sword's blade.

Xan emerged in a fury, 'A Gargantan! A Gargantan! Not THE Gargantan! It is one of them - as if to say, not the only one. Gargantan is a KIND of creature - not a single monster! You elves of B'alboru are truly too thoughtful! That!' he pointed at the dead beast lying on the ground, 'was scarcely older than a babe. It was a juvenile - like unto the elves of B'alboru!'

Before Xan could continue his tirade - and Agonas perceived that he could have continued his rant for quite some time - a loud bellow arose from somewhere nearby, answered by still others more distant. As the sounds continued to echo and resound - and to find answer elsewhere in the GarBrusht - the party suddenly felt the earth beneath them tremble, as if it too was fearful of the monsters that now wrathfully approached. There was a dreadful cracking and rustling sound as the enormous creatures approached, carelessly uprooting the ancient trees in their anger.

A dark shadow appeared from beneath the trees, as if a black cloud were about to burst forth from the jungle. An angry, growling face burst from the darkness, five times at least the size of a man's head. The eyes of the creature were undeniably intelligent, but its face and brow were flat and wrinkled, making it look more cunning than rational. There were two flaring nostrils in place of a nose, and many large yellowish teeth peeking out behind quivering lips. The creature took one look at the fallen monster and then stepped forward into the clearing. The shape of its body was almost human, but with monstrous proportions. Its muscles rippled with raw power, and its long arms fell down into tightly balled fists. Its whole body was covered with ruddy brown hair, except upon its hands and feet, its stomach and its face.

As if it were not tall enough already, when the beast entered the opening the elves realized that it was standing upon its hands and feet. When it rose to its full height it dwarfed even the other Gargantan.

'Whatever you do,' Zefru whispered frantically in Agonas' ear, 'Don't run from it!'

Agonas nodded, his eyes wide with amazement. He did not think it would be possible to run, he was so terrified. 'I'm as big a fool as Pelas,' he thought to himself, cursing his arrogance.

The Gargantan dropped to his hands and feet again and moved fearlessly toward the party.

Agonas slashed at its arm, cutting deeply into its flesh. But the creature retaliated quicker than the elf could have imagined possible, grabbing him in its arms and slamming him to the ground. As he struck the jungle floor his eyes filled with white dots and all sense seemed to vanish from his mind. In the corner of his eye he thought he saw Zefru dart off into the jungle.

He felt himself lift from the earth once more, but instead of crashing to the ground, he felt himself land in friendly arms as the creature let out a terrible bellow. When he opened his eyes he saw the Gargantan tearing at an iron dart that now stood lodged in its chest.

San stood nearby, another dart ready to fly, and his hand ready to draw one of his swords from its scabbard on his back. The monster turned its attention toward the dwarf and made a fierce charge at him. San's second dart barely slowed the monster's pace.

The Gargantan lifted both fists in the air and brought them down in a blur of motion. It's fists did not fall on San, however; instead its fists clashed against Haf'Ereg's great bronze shield like a great gong. The echo of that sound buried all other sounds and made all the elves cover their ears. The Gargantan bellowed with rage, but its cry was washed away by the resounding clash.

As it stood there, clutching its broken fists and confounded by the noise, Jah'Ereg leaped over his brother Haf, rebounded off the top of his shield and leaped atop the creature's shoulders, bringing his long spear down hard into the beast's neck. The monster flailed in agony and terror, and then fell upon its face beside the smaller Gargantan.

When Agonas regained his senses, he looked around to see Xan standing nearby with an arrow nocked.

Gheshtick helped him to his feet, his broadsword thrust into the earth where he might easily draw it out and fight.

'Where is Zefru?' Agonas asked, his fury rising within him. He knelt to the ground and picked up his sword. 'If he escapes these devils he will have me to reckon with. If WE escape! Curse him!'

Even as he spoke, four more of the creatures entered the clearing with still more following in their train. The dwarves took up something of a formation, Haf in the front with his large shield standing between them and their foes, and the others standing at his side with their swords and axes drawn. Fas, with his great axe slung across his shoulders, stood outside of the group nimbly bouncing upon the balls of his feet, ready to move in any direction. San now had both of his swords drawn, and Naj stood upon his father's shoulders with his crossbow ready to fire. Three quarrels flew from Naj's crossbow, piercing the face of the nearest beast, sending it into a rage as it crashed into the others and pounded the earth in frustration. Two others charged forward, the first held back by Haf's shield and the other falling limbless before Fas' swirling axe.

Naj quickly thrust two darts into the first creature's chest and San, taking advantage of this distraction, rushed forward with his swords and cut three deep wounds into its belly, spilling its insides upon the ground. It bellowed and fell.

The elves stood back to back, their weapons drawn, ready for battle. All of the elves, that is, save for Zefru, who had vanished into the jungle before the battle even started.

Xan felled one Gargantan with a sure shot into its left eye, but that is about all that the elves were able to manage. As they fought back the advances of a stunted looking, screeching Gargantan youth, a much greater monster came up behind them and grabbed Gheshtick and Udraja by their skulls. Gheshtick was able to pry its fingers away from his face and kick himself free. He fell to the ground with a thud, and before he could think of anything else, Udraja's headless body fell on top of him. 'The gods!' he shouted in horror. An arrow flew past his ear, sending his hair waving as it pierced the great beast that had nearly squashed his head. He rushed forward, passing between the beast's legs and cutting its foot with his broadsword.

'Run!' Xan shouted, loosing another arrow into the monster. 'Run! There is no victory here! There is only survival - if we are very, very lucky. Run!'

Agonas ducked beneath the groping palm of one of the Gargantan and cut himself a path into the forest. 'Where do we go?' he shouted. But there was no answer. The others had scattered, and only the dwarves now remained in the clearing.

'Run!' he shouted to the dwarves.

'Run, Adapnan!' Ereg responded. It was clear that the dwarves had no intention of leaving their contest with Gargantan just yet. Two more of the monsters had fallen to them, one peppered by ten of Naj's iron quarrels and the other with one of Jah's throwing spears piercing its neck.

'Fools!' Agonas shouted. 'This is not the battle we seek!'

'We have more battles than you know!' Ereg shouted, his son Naj still balancing upon his shoulders with his crossbow ready. 'Run!'

With that Agonas departed, disappearing into the jungle, making his way southward, keeping the setting sun to his right. He encountered three more Gargantan as he fled, but in the heart of the jungle his size allowed him to escape their reach more easily than in the open. He ran until he nearly fell over of exhaustion, coming to the river just as night fell. He crawled on his hands and knees to the water and drank deeply, collapsing in a heap with his right arm in the water.
[Chapter V:  
Scattered](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Elves

'You are lucky the Feisi did not eat your hand off as you slept,' Xan said, his voice reaching into Agonas' dark dreams.

The son of Parganas awoke with a start. 'What happened? Where is Zefru? I will kill him with my bare hands!'

'Do not worry about him,' Xan said. 'You must worry about yourself. We have escaped the Gargantan for the moment, but we are not yet out of the jungle. Keep alert, keep quiet and make your way south. If we are lucky we will be able to find our way into the Kingdom of Seasons. The Beast sleeps near their borders, if the dwarves are to be trusted.'

'You know that they are,' Gheshtick said, suddenly breaking his silence.

Xan nodded, admitting the truth of his words.

'Who else is here?' Agonas asked. 'What happened to the dwarves?'

'If they remained in that clearing any longer than we,' Xan said somberly, 'then they are all dead. I saw no less than twenty Gargantan heading in their direction as I fled. No man, elf or dwarf could hope to hold against such a force.'

'That is unfortunate,' Agonas said, thinking about how this would affect the rest of his quest. They had some idea now, at least, of how to find the Beast, but after seeing the resourcefulness of the dwarves he had really come to hope that they would be there to face the monster when the time came. 'What of Amerlu and Udraja?' Agonas asked.

'Udraja is dead,' Gheshtick said, shutting his eyes as if he might thereby hide his eyes from the memory of his comrade's gruesome death.

'We have neither seen nor heard aught concerning the other,' Xan explained.

'And... Zefru?' Agonas asked, barely able to contain his rage.

'He is missing as well,' Xan said. 'And to be lost in GarBrusht is almost as good as being dead.'

'That is no comfort to me,' Agonas said. 'If I manage by some trick of Fate to slay the Beast of the Earth, I will immediately return here and hunt down Zefru, and make sure that he is dead.'

Opportunity

When Zefru fled from the clearing he made his way first toward the west, thinking that perhaps there was some way out of the forest in that direction. But after twenty minutes of running he very nearly stumbled into a steep valley.

Before him lay an immense land of tall trees, dark woods, and perilous rocks. But moving about in the midst of the jungle he could see the great forms of the Gargantan. The monsters roamed about with obvious signs of agitation, having doubtless heard the ring of Haf's shield, but not being near enough to discern from what place the sound had originated. The great apes \- for that is what they seemed to be - pushed the trees aside almost like a cow pushing its way through a field of grass. All over the valley the treetops rustled and shook as the enormous Gargantan prowled about.

'The gods!' Zefru cursed to himself. 'Now what am I to do?'

It had been easy enough for him to escape. With the others standing there like fools it was all but inevitable that they should perish. Why should he not, then, make use of them during his own escape? He almost burst out laughing when he thought of how Agonas was so filled with dread at the sight of the monsters that he accepted Zefru's admonition not to run without question. 'That is the sort of thing that sets the living apart from the dead,' he thought to himself. 'The quickness of thought.'

He turned to the south and walked along the edge of the valley for a time, finally deciding that he would be better off heading back to the water. 'At least in that case I know that I can find my way to the ocean,' he murmured to himself. He acted indifferent when others plotted and schemed, but he was always listening to what others said. He had heard everything the dwarves had to say about the lay of this region, and he knew that the Gargra River would eventually meet the Spring River, which marks the border between Antsesno and the Kingdom of Seasons. 'And without the dwarves I don't think I have THAT much to fear from those men.' In Evnai he had lived four hundred years as a thief and a cutthroat, but without ever being caught or taken under guard. After so long a career there were certainly men who knew exactly who he was; but all they could do when pressed for the ground of their accusations was to mumble and curse about his craftiness. It was his skill in this regard that brought him to the attention of Agonas, who, Zefru thought, was something of a thief at heart.

It was unfortunate, he thought to himself, that he had to leave the other elf in this manner. 'But such is the way of the living,' he assured himself. 'He would have done the same to me,' he thought, snickering, 'if he had the sense to think of it.'

He continued south, veering to the left or right as the sounds of battle indicated (he always chose to move away from the sounds) and as the terrain permitted. He did not want to go near the valley of the Gargantan, where he had seen so many of the great creatures foraging. It was some comfort to him to realize that the creatures ate - primarily at least - the leaves on the trees, and not animal flesh. He did not intend to test their preferences any further, however, and made sure to keep as far from them as possible.

He continued on in this way, sleeping in holes with his dagger at the ready or sleeping in trees high enough that he thought even the Gargantan could not reach him, until he at last came to the Gargra once again. This he followed into the south for several more days, finally coming to a sharp cliff and and a great waterfall. 'This land has altogether too many of these,' he observed. The descent into the south did not look terribly treacherous, there were a number of paths down the mountainside that, it appeared, could easily be followed into the lands beyond. But, hoping to avoid climbing, he searched beyond the eastern shore of the river for another path into the south. He found a rocky and unpleasant path that, with no small amount of difficulty, led around to the west, slowly curling to face the falls. From there, however, he could see that, in fact, none of the easier looking paths down the cliffside would have led him to the land below, and that every single one of them came to a place where they dropped off suddenly into the rapids below.

Just then he looked up and saw, at the top of the cliff, Amerlu, the mercenary from Evnai. Amerlu stood there for nearly ten minutes before unraveling his rope and tying one end of it to a thick branch at the top of the cliff.

Zefru grinned.

Amerlu struggled and labored for nearly twenty minutes before coming to a slippery ledge that, from above, had looked flat and strong. As he fought to find a place for his feet, Zefru called out, 'Is this the way it ends, Amerlu the mighty? Brought to naught by moss on a stone?'

Distracted, Amerlu slipped and grasped his rope at the last moment.

'Curse you, Zefru! Help me!' he shouted. 'You have always been a coward!'

'And what of you? Did you stay and kill all?' Zefru asked, his laughter echoing against the rock wall. 'No, we are both cowards, Amerlu. I am just quicker and better at it than you are!' With that he began to cast stones at the other elf, gently at first, but gradually throwing them harder and harder.

'Curse you to the pit!' Amerlu said angrily, his mouth foaming with rage and his face turning as red as blood. 'What is the sense of this?'

'What is the sense of anything? What sense does such a question even have? Just hold on as long as you can, and then let go with dignity.'

'What is wrong with you!?' Amerlu shouted as a stone struck his hand, almost forcing him to let go of the rope.

'Choose now, Amerlu of Evnai, child of the gods,' Zefru laughed. 'Will you fall by your own hand, or shall it be by mine? Will you hold on to the last?'

Amerlu struggled more with his rope, pulling himself up the cliffside as quickly as possible. But Zefru's face grew cold and murder rose up within his heart. He picked up a large round stone and flung it with great force into the back of Amerlu's head, knocking him from the rope to slide off the edge of the cliff screaming in terror.

It was not long after this that Zefru had the opportunity to repeat this circumstance with the other elves. Agonas, Gheshtick and Xan came following the Gangra two days later, and stood in the early morning light examining the falls. At first Zefru was of a mind to let them figure out for themselves just how perilous the climb would prove. But he could not bring himself to let Gheshtick perish in this way. It is not as though he considered the other elf a friend - Zefru did not have friends. But he did not want to see him die. The word pity came to his mind, but he shook his head as if to cast the thought away from him.

When Xan had tied the end of his rope to the same branch that Amerlu had used, Zefru called out from the bushes on the eastern shore of the Gargra River. 'Xan of Thure! Do not meet the same end as our poor friend Amerlu, who, not more than a day ago plummeted to his death from that very spot!'

Agonas' face turned to blood with rage at the sound of Zefru's voice.

'Coward!' he called out, 'Traitor! Show yourself.'

Zefru emerged from his hiding place and spread his arms in mockery of the gesture Xan was wont to make when he meant to show that he was not trying to deceive. 'I am not a great warrior,' the thief admitted. 'But what I am able to do, that I do. Ever since I saw poor Amerlu meet his end I have scouted these parts for a path. I might have simply taken that path and abandoned you to make the same mistake as him. But I stayed, so that where I am able to help, I could help.'

'It is the worst of cowards who must explain his motives for an action which, for other men, would come so naturally as to need no explanation,' Xan retorted.

'Enough,' Agonas said, his face visibly calmer. 'Come here, Zefru - I promise you nothing.'

Zefru emerged from his hiding place and slowly approached the son of Parganas. When he drew within arm's reach of Agonas he paused and began to back away. But before he had taken a single step back Agonas rushed forward and took hold of the thief's wrist. 'Zefru thorn of Evnai, do you think that I have any delusions concerning your character? I chose you for a purpose, master thief - I chose you, not despite, but for your gutless, faithless soul.' As Agonas spoke those last few words he wrenched hard upon Zefru's wrist, so that the other man was forced to the ground in pain. 'Flee now, master thief!' Agonas hissed. 'Flee now that you are within my grasp! I know you and your kind. I know what you fear and what makes you act. Do not be mistaken, Zefru, there is nothing in the world but power. And surely I have power over you. Set your will against me, and you will be stung with the horns of a bull. Follow me and you will feast on the bounty of Fate.'

He released Zefru's hand and the thief backed away, looking hatefully into the eyes of the other elves. 'Now, obey me,' Agonas said coldly. 'Show me the way down.'

Not a word was spoken as the elves made their way slowly down into lands to the south. They followed Zefru's path for the rest of the day, carefully descending from the GarBrusht. 'If it is at all possible,' Gheshtick suggested, 'I would like to find another way to make our return.'

'Well,' Agonas answered him, 'I see no reason to return the way we came. If we succeed, then we can set sail from anywhere in Kharku. This Kingdom of Seasons must have ports and ships.'

'If you succeed in your mission,' Xan said, 'Every nation will bow before you and let you pass unmolested. Only a fool would trouble one who slew the immortal Beast.'

'The world is full of fools,' Agonas replied.

The elves had all but given up on the thought that they might see the dwarves alive again. Even Xan seemed to believe that there was no possible way for them to escape the circumstance in which they had chosen to stand. 'If they were of any other race I would guess that some one or two of them had escaped. But dwarves do not flee; not unless it is for a very specific purpose. They would not have been scattered as we were, and they certainly could not have withstood so many Gargantan. The only other possibility - nay, to me it is a certainty - is that they fought bravely to an end. If we ourselves survive this ordeal, we ought to have a bard compose something for them.'

'That would be fitting,' Gheshtick replied. He could not help but feel a sense of sadness at the thought of the dwarves. After all, they had forced the dwarves to come along on their journey, and now, instead of loosing Dan'Ereg, the people of Sparka would be losing Ereg and his five oldest sons. 'That is a great blow,' he thought to himself.

The Root Of All Causes

The days that followed their escape from GarBrusht seemed to follow one after another in dull repetition. The terrain grew easier, the rocks and trees being gradually replaced by grassy hills and gentle fields of wildflowers. 'This is the Winterfel,' Xan said, Or so I suspect. Nowhere else in Kharku can flowers thrive in such cold weather.' Indeed, almost as soon as he had mentioned the cold it began to overtake the land. They had passed over the mountains, and now they were in a land where the seasons waxed and waned as they did in Bel Albor. In the Far North it would be drawing near to the summer time. In southern Kharku, however, the air was growing bitterly cold.

They hunted deer in that area, making coats for themselves and cooking the meat. They meant to reserve what dried meat they still carried for leaner times. Day after day they walked south and east, and every night they camped out of sight and built a small cook fire. During these evenings they would often speak of the histories of Bel Albor and of Kharku, Xan asking most of the questions. The elf's hunger for knowledge was matched, perhaps, only by that of Gheshtick. The two of them would remain awake sometime through the entire night reciting epics, detailing the political systems of the nations, and otherwise considering and commenting on the history of the world.

But when Gheshtick felt he had given Xan enough of a break from the subject of the gods, he turned over a smoldering log, fanned the fire to life again, and said, 'I wanted to ask you, master Xan, about the second proof of the Essenes.'

Xan sighed, unable to think of a reason to avoid the conversation. He replied, 'Very well. Speak on; what else to these peculiar folk teach?'

'They say concerning the former proof that it is a descent from the God of all to the mind of man, and they insist that, though man may not descend from heaven to earth, perhaps he might rise from the earth to heaven, by means of the following proof. This argument, they say, begins at your feet and rises ever up until it brings us to the highest of all Gods.'

'Go on, explain,' Xan said, trying to sound more patient than he felt.

'They say that all that begins must have a precedent. If there was nothing preceding, how could aught follow? If it follows, how could it have no precedent? If it had no precedent, then how could it begin? It must either not be at all, or it must always have been. But there is nothing that is not, nor is there, they say, anything that must always have been. Everything is in flux; and therefore everything has a beginning and, therefore, a precedent.'

'You speak of causes, then?' Xan asked, pondering the other elf's words carefully. 'But how do these Essenes, by this reasoning, ascend to heaven as it were?'

'They teach,' Gheshtick continued, 'that, as everything that begins must have something preceding it, so also the world must have some precedent - some cause. For the world is not steady and unmoving, but in flux even as all other things.'

'There are some who say that this flux is eternal,' Xan suggested, not admitting it to be the very doctrine of Thure.

'There are many in the North who say this as well,' Gheshtick replied. 'But the Essenes insist that there cannot be such an eternal world, as it would lead to many absurdities. They say, for instance, that if there was aught that was without number, it must either not be at all, or it must fill the world to the brim. And, again, there is nothing of this sort to be found.'

'We can leave that aside for the moment,' Xan said. 'It is a hard matter; and it would not be a good use of our time to dwell on it any further here. But concerning the rest of the argument, I still cannot quite understand what it is meant to convey.'

'If the world has a beginning, then it, as all other beginnings, must have a precedent - it must have a cause whereby it began. This cause, being of a different nature from the world that it caused is what they call the God of all gods.'

'I see,' Xan said, leaning back and looking at the stars above for a few moments. 'If we are speaking of beginnings, there are two kinds, I think. There are beginnings where naught has changed, and beginnings where something has changed. If we are speaking of the first kind, then, as the beginning marks, in fact, the beginning, then it implies no precedent. If we are speaking of the latter kind, then it is not, in fact, a beginning, but rather a change. A change, of course, has its beginning and latter state already, as it is 'before' and 'after' that constitute the nature of a change.

'If there was a bird over here one moment,' Xan continued, pointing at the grass to his left, 'and then, in the next moment, there was a rat - over there,' he pointed to a stone on his right, 'this would not constitute a change, and however much the coming to be of the rat would constitute a change over on the rock, it does not imply the bird, nor does the bird imply the rat. But if the rat stood here, and, let's say, lifted its head, the latter stance of the beast would be a veritable change from its prior state, and insofar as it is a change, the lifting of the head implies that its head was once not lifted. Do you see what I am saying?'

'I think so,' Gheshtick said with a pensive look. 'You are saying that it is only when a change has occurred that one can think of cause and effect, and even so, the change is not a change for being two different things, but for being the same thing altered.'

'Exactly. So I am not entirely in disagreement with your Essenes on the question of whether or not the world has a cause. But, causes being the very thing in question but in a prior time, the only thing that is implied by the current state of the world is a prior state of the world.'

Gheshtick nodded, 'I see. That would answer one of their rhetorical expressions. They have said that the elves of Sunlan and all the others who do not worship their God believe that the world caused itself to be. This they say, is an absurdity. But this is truly absurd only if it is not understood that a cause is the same substance as its effect. The cause of the rat lifting its head is the rat - not the rat with head lifted, but the prior rat – if I may speak of one rat in such a manner.'

'That is correct,' Xan said. 'And so this is essentially my answer to their second argument, and to their attempt to rise to the heavens: If the world must have a cause, then the world is cause enough. If they wish to go beyond the change from one to the other, and pass out of time altogether, then they must find for themselves another argument and a separate principle than that of cause and effect.'

Agonas smiled as he listened to the end of their discussion. He thought of how similar it all sounded to his mother's teachings - rather, how similar it sounded to what she had taught to his brother Pelas so many years ago. She had never said anything like that to him, of course. 'I will tell you about the root of all causes, master of Thure,' he said in jest. 'Pelas, my brother, being of one and the same substance with his own parents, and they with theirs, passing all the way back into, who can say? Perhaps into the Dragon himself - Pelas is the root of all and the God of all gods.'

Zefru could not refrain from laughter.

Xan sniffed in amusement, but Gheshtick just rolled into his bedroll and shut his eyes. He had much to think upon, and was not in any mood for jokes.

The next morning they were awakened by shouts and cries in a strange tongue. Xan stood facing a tall man with long brown hair and a thick green cape, shouting at him in a language the others had never heard. 'Trunans!' the man seemed to use it as an accusation.

Xan shook his head and said, 'Ne, ne, ne trunam. Vestilam.'

'Harma tenans,' the man said, pointing at Gheshtick's broadsword. 'Rigba, filyo-ne uy-Sesana!'

Xan shook his head and spread his arms wide, protesting the others accusations. 'We are not brigands!' he shouted, searching his mind for the words, 'Filyo uy-Sesana! Filyo! Ne rigba ous! Ne!'

'Bandaga!' the man said coldly, waving his arms to dismiss Xan's words.

There were nearly two-dozen other men standing nearby, half of them already occupied either with detaining the elves or with snooping through their belongings. Agonas' dwarf-made sword was brought to the leader's attention. 'Skathwi,' the man in the green cape said with a tone that betrayed his amazement. When he noticed Agonas' look of anger he shouted again, saying 'Bandaga!' The others hastily brought forth cloth and rope to bind and blindfold the elves. 'Adto Sesanao!' he said, and darkness took them for a great many days.
[Chapter VI:  
Beast and Iron](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Ant-Antfister

Ereg's sons were certainly surprised when their father refused to flee from the raging Gargantan. Twenty of the creatures lay dead upon the ground before the dwarves were given a respite from their battle. Naj had spent all his quarrels, and was now plucking them from the dead bodies and saving those that could be used again. In the end he was left with only twenty-three that could be used. San had used all but three of his darts, and every one of those he had thrown were now lost to him. Jah threw and regathered all of his javelins, though one of them now had a broken point. He kept it nonetheless, as even a broken weapon in the hands of a dwarf is a deadly tool. He had lost three darts, much to his frustration.

As the others scoured the clearing for their projectiles, Haf and Fas leaned against one of the Gargantan bodies. Haf rested his enormous shield in front of him and Fas held his great axe across his lap. Neither of them had any need to dig through the grass and dirt for pins. Ereg soon joined them where they rested. He had thrown one dart, but he regained it without much difficulty, plucking it from the throat of a Gargantan.

'Adapnans run't away,' Haf laughed, shaking his head. He was obviously not concerned with the safety of the elves.

'They run't fast as Jee!' Fas said, the last word spoken in such a high pitch (to indicate that he spoke of the wind) that the others, even Ereg, were forced to chuckle. They certainly had fled quickly, especially Zefru. That slim elf was clever to be sure, Ereg thought, but he was not to be trusted.

'We l'find them?' San asked, when he had given up on finding the rest of his darts. He came over to the others and knelt next to Ereg. His eyes seemed to say that he would do whatever his father decided, and that he would be happy whatever that happened to be.

Fas would also do as Ereg commanded, but it was clear from his expression that he would not do so without hating every moment of it if it meant they would once more be babysitting the elves. At times Fas felt that he was the only one who remembered that this whole ordeal had begun with a kidnapping.

'Mm,' Ereg said, shaking his head. 'First we l'go t' Antfister.'

He almost laughed as his three sons tilted their heads questioningly almost in perfect unison. 'We l'go Ant-Antfister!'

The others smiled. It is rare for dwarves to make jokes with words, and when it is done right, it must be acknowledged at least with a smile. If it is done poorly someone could very well end up dead. But Ereg had duplicated the word 'Against' to indicate that their next course would not be to seek out the lost elves, but rather to make some kind of move against Antfister, which was now hoping to draw Fist into a war with Turg. There was perhaps nothing he could do to prevent what would come, but he could at least delay the war for a time.

When the dwarves had finished their preparations, which included a certain amount of despoiling of the carcasses - there was no use slaying a Gargantan if you took no trophy from the conflict - they made their way due west, following the setting sun. The Gargantan were still excited and agitated, so they stayed far from them if they could help it. They made their camp in a small enclosure where it would be impossible for a Gargantan to reach them - at least, without losing its arm in the process. They slept soundly until dawn, and, by the early afternoon they came to the steep slope that Zefru had discovered the day before. There they beheld hundreds of the great beasts, foraging and prowling through the woods.

Ereg pointed and nudged Haf, 'See? Erexmid say't we should eat greens. Look at them!' Dwarves did not usually quarrel amongst their own kin. Discipline was swift, certain and effective among the people of Sparka, and dwarf children learned quickly to obey. But there was something like a controversy within Ereg's household regarding the eating of vegetables. His wife, Erexmid, had long insisted that green foods would give their consumer the strength of Jee (spoken in a low tone of course). Ereg and his six sons, however, insisted that strength truly came by means of animal flesh. There beneath them stomped the proof of their own error. 'We l'keep this secret,' Ereg said with a smile.

They filed down into the valley one after the other, each carefully choosing their steps to avoid making any noise. For the next ten days they traveled west, winding through the trees in a tight line, their weapons at the ready and their eyes sharply focused. Twice they were forced to ambush a Gargantan, as they saw no other way to pass the creature without drawing its attention. A well-aimed bolt from Naj's crossbow and a few quick blows from Fas' axe were enough to make an end of the beasts. On the first day of Fuehas they found themselves passing from the dense jungle to a wide grassland dotted here and there with tall trees.

'Past Rugar lies Antfister,' Ereg explained as they set up their camp for the night along the Rugar river's eastern bank. 'They ally't now with Fist; they l'set themselves against Turg.'

This was the first time he had spoken openly of what he had heard in the Scar. 'If Turg is attacked by t' Five and Fist together, they l'call Sparka for aid.'

He did not need to explain the consequences of this to his sons, who now looked at him with great concern. 'Also,' he continued, 'In Fist they build't iron ones.'

This last detail seemed to greatly affect the others, who now looked to Ereg with as close to a look of fear as dwarves could manage. 'Golems,' Naj said in amazement.

'What l'we do?' Fas asked, managing to remain more calm than his brothers.

'We l'slay the iron ones here,' his father replied, pointing at the ground beneath his feet. The others looked at him with surprise. 'We have weapons greater than iron.'

Undappa

For three weeks they labored, constructing a bridge to span the Rugar River. Ereg's sons felled trees in GarBrusht while he and Naj kept a careful watch over the Gargantan. Only once, however, did the dwarves need to stop their work to drive one of the monsters away. They were now near the Rugar, and the creatures preferred to eat the fruit and leaves from Aradra trees, which did not thrive in that area. When the bridge was completed, Ereg sent Fas and Haf into the jungle to gather Aradra fruit by the bundle, until they had enough it seemed to feed the whole jungle.

When those preparations were complete, the dwarves traveled north along the river until they came to the village of Undappa. One by one they climbed over the village gates and stole through the fields to the meeting house, which alone was built of stone. They lit the roof on fire and slew all the animals that were tied up in its yard. When the guardians arrived Haf and Fas drove them away, their great weapons being more than they had expected to find when responding to reports of a fire.

The dwarves fled the village, shouting curses and threats in the name of Fist, and setting fire to everything they passed. They did not return to their former encampment, however, but rather found a new place to hide away. In this way they avoided open conflict, but repeatedly vexed the nearby villages with fires and thefts, until the dwarves of that region were forced to come together in great force against them. Near the end of Fuehas, a small band of dwarves marched from Undappa, scouring every hole on the west bank of the Rugar River, and searching as far as five leagues to the west, hoping by this means to trap and destroy the brigands. But when word of this force reached Ereg's ears - he had sent Naj to spy upon their movements - he ordered his sons to smash the Adadra fruit and to draw the attention of the Gargantan. One thing he had made note of while they were traveling the GarBrusht, was that the smell of a broken fruit drew the Gargantan as surely as a cry of battle. Thus, even as the dwarves of Undappa and its neighboring villages arrived at the place where the Sparkans had built their bridge, the Gargantan, also found it, and crossed to reach the place where the sweet smell of the Adadra fruit originated.

The beasts, thinking the dwarves meant to come between them and their food, fell into a rage, and charged them with all the aggression for which they are famed, and which I have already described.

These dwarves, not being trained warriors, were scattered before them, and many of them fell prey to the Gargantan, who, it turns out, do not utterly shun the eating of flesh.

Ereg and his sons, meanwhile, took refuge back in GarBrusht, where the Gargantan were not enraged. There they dwelt for a time, as they waited for the dwarves in that region to discover what had happened.

Survivors of this skirmish soon returned to Undappa and to the other villages, and more men were gathered. Moreover, warriors were summoned from Taratar, which was a mining city built on the southern slope of the Tar Hills, where coal was found in abundance.

Soon a hundred armored warriors marched upon the region, every dwarf armed with axes and chain armor and leather caps. But by the time they had reached the bridge and the scene of the previous conflict, the Sparkans had constructed yet another bridge, some ways to the south, and, using the fruit once more (along with many agitating sounds), they lured the monsters once again across the Rugar and into the territory of the Antfisters.

Thus the warriors found themselves driven toward the bridge and into GarBrusht as a great number of the Gargantan approached them in a rage from the southwest. As they poured onto the bridge, however, seemingly forgetting the fact that it had doubtless been made by their enemies, the Sparkans appeared, Haf's enormous shield barring their way as Jah stood behind him with his many spears ready to fly. Beside the shield was Fas and his axe, and then all the other sons of Ereg, each bearing their favorite weapons.

The warriors of Taratar, thinking it would be better to face an opponent they understood, chose to engage the Sparkans, and to flee from the Gargantan, but by this they showed that they did not understand their enemies at all.

The Sparkans drove them back, again and again, until they were utterly trapped upon the short span of the bridge, and those that did not die by the hairy fists and strong teeth of the Gargantan died by the axe of Fas, the spears of Jah (he lost the broken spear, thrusting it into the captain of the dwarves, who then fell and was lost beneath the surface of the Rugar), and the swords of San. Ereg's own blade, the Skatos of Kuhaf, proved itself to have been well-named, as it cut through armor and helms as if they were wrought of wood and paper rather than iron and steel. In Ereg's hand the sword seemed to come to life, and the dwarves learned to fear it ere they met their end.

When the battle with the dwarves was over, however, the Gargantan and the Sparkans met once more, and the Sparkans were forced to flee from the monsters back into the GarBrusht where they might better defend themselves. Once again they fought a battle such as they had fought when first the elves had drawn down the ire of the monsters. But this time they were already exhausted from their conflict with the dwarves upon the bridge. Naj was wounded, and they others scarcely escaped alive as they fled deeper into the jungle, searching for some place where they might be saved.

When they had crossed a large stream and climbed up a rock wall to hide in a place where the Gargantan could not reach without making themselves utterly vulnerable, they stopped to rest and to breath. One of the Gargantan had taken a bite from Naj's side, breaking his armor and piercing his flesh with its large teeth. The dwarves stripped his armor and his clothes and washed the wound with water.

San made a paste from some leaves and herbs they carried with them, and spread it over the injury before wrapping his brother's side with clean brown cloth.

For several days they remained atop the rocks as Naj battled for his life against a strong fever. Fas went down into the jungle to search for wood and they kept a strong fire burning the whole while and laid Naj near to it so that his weakened body would not succumb to the growing cold. Haf and San gathered fruit and hunted as they were able - mostly wild boar and some ugly black squirrel-like creatures they came to call 'screechers'.

When Naj had all but recovered the dwarves gathered for council. 'What we l'do next?' San asked, his expression mirrored on the faces of all his siblings.

'We l'continue t' hurt Antfister, till Fist comes t' help. Against Gargantan they l'send t' golems.'

'Iron-men l'slay the Gargantan,' Jah suggested, sharpening the edge of his long spear against a rock. 'Iron-men l'slay all foes.'

'Mm,' Ereg disagreed. 'They slay't not the Yaha'Nai, though ten-thousand fight't him. Here are one-thousand Gargantan against seven. The Gargantan l'suffer, but they l'break t' golems.'

'They l'not be fighting against t' golems only,' Fas said, wincing as he took a bite out of a charred screecher on a spit. 'We l'turn t' battle against t' iron-men.'

Ereg nodded approval, for once appreciating Fas'Ereg's bombast. If Fas was against him on a matter, the others were likely to be of a split mind as well, each forming their own ideas. But if he and his second son shared a mind, then no one, not even San, the eldest, would oppose them. In the end he knew that he could rely upon his sons to obey him to the last, but it was always easier to have their agreement. He knew that in the days to come he would need Fas on his side. That, of course, was assuming that they survived their present struggles.

Red River

The next force to come against the Sparkans was all the more powerful. They brought a hundred archers and three hundred axe-men and a hundred swordsmen. The Sparkans, however, had spent their time in preparation for just such a force. They had built a roost atop an immense tree from which Naj could shoot down across the river without fearing any reprisal from below (They had also made for him a hundred wooden quarrels). When their foes came to the river Naj began raining death upon their heads from above. He loosed twenty arrows, slaying nineteen of the dwarves before they even discovered from whence he shot. The archers took their places and shot in vain, their arrows thudding dully into the bottom of the roost.

As the dwarf archers prepared fire to light the tree upon which Naj stood, Fas and San leaped from their hiding places and cut a path through the warriors, felling ten shocked dwarves as they rushed through their ranks. They fled across the bridge and vanished into the jungle, leaving the dwarves perplexed and enraged.

The captain of the dwarves ordered them to cross the bridge and avenge their comrades, but when the twentieth dwarf stepped upon the bridge it began to collapse, sinking the mail-encumbered warriors into the rushing water. Dwarves generally do not know how to swim, and armor does not make their chances of surviving such an event any better.

Flaming arrows struck the base of Naj's tree, setting it on fire and sending smoke curling up into the sky. But Naj climbed out of the roost and slid down a cord into the forest, escaping their arrows as he flew over the trees.

It was then that, once again, the Sparkans used the Gargantan as weapons against their enemies. After leading them across the Rugar in another place, Jah and Haf appeared behind the dwarf warriors with a large group of the angry giants in their train. They leaped into battle as though they and the monsters were of one mind, and, as the dwarves turned to face them, it really was so for a time. But knowing that the monsters were just as likely to rip them to pieces as their enemies, they made their way to the north and, cutting down the captain and his guardians, fled from the battle, leaving the Gargantan to finish the fight.

The Golems Approach

Soon word of these 'Summoners' who could make even the mighty Gargantan obey them reached the ears of the lord of Antfister.

When he learned of the difficulty the warriors of Taratar had in confronting them, and of the slaughter of so great a host of dwarf warriors, he sent word to the master of Fist, who had not more than four months ago promised the might of their golems in exchange for an alliance against Turg. If there ever was a time to call upon his new ally, it was certainly now, when the ancient Gargantan were somehow making their way into the land of Antfister to devastate fully trained and armed dwarf warriors.

Thus on the morning of the ninth day of Ninus, five of Fist's golems thundered into the region, flanked on each side by armor clad dwarves from Fist and Antfister alike.

'They sent an army to us,' Naj said, reporting what he and Jah had discovered. 'An army!'

'Calm,' their father said sternly. It was considered uncomely for a dwarf to repeat themselves.

Naj had good reason for his excitement. Dwarves valued strength above almost all other things, even over goodness. Even if a dwarf was considered a cruel and wicked tyrant, so long as he was mighty, he was respected and honored by friend and foe alike. His enemies would still seek to kill him, but they would not feel disdain for him. These six dwarves had fought in such a manner as to draw against them an entire army and five golems. This was certainly something to be proud of.

'Let them come t' jungle,' Ereg said.

'They l'come?' Haf asked. 'Though they know of t' Gargantan?'

'They l'come,' Ereg answered. 'We bleed't Undappa and Taratar; they l'not leave us till we dead.'

'Or till they dead,' Fas added, gently testing the edge of his axe-blade. It was not really necessary for him to add that, but his eagerness for glory pushed the words from his mouth. Ereg looked at him concernedly. It was not only Fas, he realized, that was growing impatient. All of his sons were excited about their accomplishments.

'Sparka l'not be forgotten,' San said.

Ereg sighed; he wanted Sparka to survive in deed; not merely in myth and lore. By now they had accomplished a feat worthy of song and legend. Many dwarves would be content with this, and face the coming battle with a rash lust for death and fame. They would hope that by meeting such an end they would be remembered in song forever.

Ereg did not want songs, however. He wanted Sparka and its people. He did not need to make a good show of it in the coming battle. He needed to win. He needed to break the golems and halt the war-plans of the Land of the Five Kings and Fist. He also thought that in the end he would need the elves. His sons had all but forgotten about Agonas and his companions. Dan'Ereg was safe, and as far as they were concerned there was no more reason to concern themselves with the mission of slaying the Drake'Ya. Perhaps it was due to their youth, but his sons, save for Fas and San who had seen the Elementals in the Place of Hearing, did not fully understand the certainty of what was going to befall Turg and Sparka in the coming years.

'Sparka l'perish,' Ereg said coldly, making an end of their joviality. 'Sparka l'perish,' he repeated himself in mockery of Naj, as if to say, THIS is something to be excited about. 'Think not of glory but of t' fight.'

The sons of Ereg fully expected to meet some gruesome fate in a glorious final battle against the dwarves of Fist and their golems. And when it came time to make their preparations they proposed an assortment of hopeless strategies, each designed to bring them into the very center of the conflict, where they might all die together as they fought the metal beasts. But Ereg rejected all such strategies. 'We l'stay in GarBrusht,' he said, much to their amazement. 'We hurt them too much t' be forget't. And if they leave us, we l'renew our assault upon their lands till they must return. They must come to GarBrusht.'

And, of course, the Sparkans had grown somewhat accustomed to living amidst the Gargantan. They could pass through the woods now without troubling the beasts, and they also knew some means of pacifying them when a confrontation occurred. Ereg was counting upon the fact that the dwarves of Antfister and of Fist would not let their attacks go unavenged, and would sent the golems across the Rugar River into GarBrusht. Indeed, golems were very often thought almost to be invulnerable. They would cross the river thinking that the monsters in the jungle were of little concern to them. But Ereg intended to prove otherwise. The beasts are one thing, he thought, but when they are directed by dwarves they are as good as the iron-men.

The Fistmen and the golems set a camp near the edge of the river, setting the golems to watch over the borders. On the north they set Feis, a somewhat tall dwarf with yellow hair and a long braided beard. The golem in which he rode was shaped like a great warrior with tall horns of adamant and a great cleaver in its right hand. The left arm was like a great mace covered with long spikes. Upon its back there was a pipe through which smoke billowed in a steady stream. When the golem began to move the smoke poured out, blackening the air like a storm cloud. But as he sat watching into the night, the iron-man was quiet and its smoke rose gently into the air unseen.

Watching over the river on the eastern edge of the camp was Aegr, a dark haired dwarf nearly as deadly on foot as he was within his steel armored golem. His mount took the shape of an axeman, with an axe that could fell an oak tree in three swift strokes.

Over the west watched Nai'Jemon, the white haired lord of Ugrund and captain over the entire force of Fistmen. His golem looked like a giant man of iron, and in each hand was a broad sword the height of a full grown mortal man.

On the southern edge of the camp stood the great Vorin, whose metal armor was shaped like a great four-legged beast. The tail of the golem was like a whip, tipped with an adamant spearhead, which could be thrust with great force in any direction.

As Naj spied upon their encampment he was amazed by the might of their enemies, and more amazed that his father should think it possible for them to have victory. In truth, Ereg was not at all certain that they could defeat the golems. But he saw no other means of stalling the coming war.

Following his father's instructions, Naj climbed quietly from the tree from which he was spying and made his way silently through the GarBrusht to the Sparkans' camp. 'Nai'Jemon is among them,' he said as he sat down before the fire and spooned himself a portion of the stew Haf had prepared. The air was quite cold now, and most of the dwarves were now garbed in Gargantan-fur coats, something only a king would wear in other lands. But here each one of them had proven themselves worthy of the rare attire.

Ereg nodded. He had met the old warrior once, when he had come as an emissary from Fist to Sparka, hoping to make an alliance. But the Sparkans were solitary folk, and they were not willing to encumber themselves with alliances to any other nations. It had cost them greatly over the years, but it won them their independence, and it had also made them strong.

'Nai'Jemon is old man,' he laughed, lifting the spirits of his sons with his confidence. 'When not napping, deadly like bear.'

'They not napping now,' Naj said, renewing his report. 'They have golems watching whole camp. A mighty one in t' midst, hidden from eyes. Tomorrow they l'cross t' River. That I hear't from scouts, who pass't beneath my tree. They test't t' bridge; and they make't sure it safe.'

'Then they l'cross it,' Fas said excitedly.

'All ready?' Ereg said, looking first to San and then to Fas.

'All,' they said almost in unison.

'Then I l'watch tonight. All you, sons, rest tonight. Gather strength; sleep is t' warrior like t' drawing of t' bowstring. Fill yourselves with power tonight, be loosed upon your foes in t' morning.'

They obeyed immediately, each dumping the remains of their dinner into the fire before crawling into their Ghilil-skin tents and wrapping themselves with fur.

Ereg sat before the fire and stared long into the leaping flames.

When he had sat in this way for a long time a single tongue of flame appeared as if from nowhere, and spoke to him, saying, 'I am Fuehar, spirit of fire. What do you wish from me? Why have you called me?'

Ereg spoke softly, not wanting to wake his sons from their sleep. 'Agonas and his comrades, are they safe?' he asked. It would not do, after all, to slow Fist in its march to war if he had no way to save the Sparkans.

'One has fallen,' Fuehar spoke without compassion, 'but the others yet live.'

'How far can you see, jinn of fire?' Ereg asked.

'I can see however so far I please, if you but have the concentration to listen. For we elementals do not speak as you dwarves and humans speak, saying only a little bit here and there. When we speak, we speak everything. But you must listen very carefully if you are to hear it.'

'Then you are as wise as Ocreov?' Ereg queried.

'I speak no less, and Ocreov speaks no more. But in the Place of Hearing it is easier for one such as yourself to understand.

'Is there hope for Sparka?' Ereg said, taking a deep breath to swallow his emotion.

'You may save your people,' Fuehar said somberly, 'But not your sons. Or you may save your sons, but not your people.'

'Is there no other way?' Ereg asked, emotion almost overcoming his voice, 'Is there no other way but the way I have chosen?'

'None.'

With that Ereg lost his focus and the jinn vanished, leaving the dwarf suddenly alone in the cold night. He shivered, and looked around the camp mournfully.

The Great Battle

On the morrow three golems crossed the Rugar River and marched noisily through the jungle. Aegr took the lead, his great axe clearing a path for the others whenever their course required it. They had sent scouts of their own into the GarBrusht, and had located Ereg's camp the night before. But when they came to the place where the Sparkans had rested they found nothing but an enormous mound of smashed and peeled Aradra fruit. Atop the pile stood Ereg, with Skatos unsheathed at his side. 'I am Ereg of Sparka,' he cried out. 'I am warn't of Fist in t' Place of Hearing; we come t' avenge my people!'

'Avenge!?' Feis replied. 'We've done nothing t' Sparkans!'

'The Elementals speak't,' Ereg replied. 'Have you no hearers in Fist or Antfister? Or do you lie as you speak t' me?'

To this Feis had no answer. But Aegr stepped forward, his great axe ever at the ready to swing. 'You cannot avenge where is no crime,' he said in irritation. 'Cease, and we l'bind you only. Fight on and none l'recognize t' remains.'

'Ocreov speak't t' me concerning your nation; t' crimes are as good as commit't. When t' crime is destruction of Sparka and its people, t' revenge must precede t' crime - or else it l'go unpunish't.'

'If Sparka is harm't, Ereg of Sparka,' Nai'Jemon said, stepping forward with thunderous strides to address Ereg, 'then it l'be in response to your deeds, not for aggression of ours!'

'You no dwarves, then,' Ereg said. 'You have no hearers; if you did, then you would have hear't from Ocreov t' folly of your words.'

'If you l'not be bound, Ereg,' Nai'Jemon said without emotion, 'then today you have perish't.'

Ereg smiled.

In an instant Nai'Jemon found his metal armor clanging upon the ground as an enormous Gargantan rushed into the camp and knocked two of the golems off their iron feet.

Feis hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether he ought to pursue Ereg or help his comrades. This moment cost him his life, as a Gargantan leaped upon him and pushed him to the ground. The beast tore at his armor, bending the metal and digging bloodily into the chamber where the dwarf lay screaming in fear and pain.

In an instant many dwarf warriors rushed forward from their hiding places to help free the golems. They fought a fierce battle, and twelve dwarves lay dead upon the ground with their heads smashed or their limbs ripped from their bodies ere the golems were back on their iron legs - save for Feis, whose golem now lay in a smoking heap.

Aegr strode forward coolly and, with one great swing of his axe, cut the Gargantan who killed his companion in two, the creatures thick spine resisting the adamant blade no more than the thin air through which it passed.

'Cursed is Ereg!' Nai'Jemon shouted in a rage. 'What l'befall your people is done by your hand! Cursed is Sparka!'

The two remaining golems continued into the jungle, trailed by a great troop of furious dwarf warriors. Two more Gargantan approached them as they marched, but the dwarves in their anger made short work of them. Somewhere deep within his mind the lord of the golems knew that he ought to have turned back. To have lost a golem rider so quickly was a great blow, and Ereg had planned his attack well. But now that they were prepared, he did not think that it was possible for him to harm them again. His rage, however, was at the forefront of his thoughts, and pushed all other considerations aside.

Well into the night they continued, carefully following Ereg's trail into the jungle. 'How could they sneak into Undappa, if they leave such a trail behind them?' Aegr said as they followed a path of broken bushes and trampled brush in pursuit of their enemy. 'I can trace his path from within my armor,' he marveled. But as they pressed on they began to wonder if indeed they were following his trail at all. Morning came and the dwarves stopped to rest in a small clearing near a small hill. Four dwarves were sent out in each direction to scout ahead and report what they discovered concerning the Sparkans. They all returned without having seen any sign of Ereg or his sons. 'We l'turn back,' Nai'Jemon said, his reason overtaking his anger again. 'If we go further we l'risk losing t' mounts. We have enough oil for battle, and for t' return, but we cannot press on into t' jungle.'

Aegr growled in agreement, knowing the other dwarf to be right. Thus they began their return journey, but only to find that the trail they had followed had been joined by innumerable others, so that it was now quite impossible for them to discern which route they had taken to reach the clearing. Frantically the scouts ran ahead, hoping to see where each path led.

None returned, however, and the golems were forced to choose a path on their own, and without knowing to whence it led. In the end they were led south and then east before rounding a great hill of rock. 'This is not the way!' Aegr cursed. 'And now we have not the oil for the return.'

After some debate they decided to combine their oil and make the return with Nai'Jemon walking on foot with the warriors while Aegr rode his golem back to the Rugar River with the remaining oil slowly burning away. They met no Gargantan and saw no further signs of the Sparkans until at last they came within sight of the water. A party of fifteen dwarves were sent into the GarBrusht with a barrel of oil to find and return with Nai'Jemon's golem. But only five of them returned, bloodied and battered, cursing the Gargantan, and reporting that the golem had been destroyed beyond recognition.

'Cover't with t' juice of t' Aradra,' one of the survivors said, recalling the sweet aroma that had filled the place where the golem had been abandoned. 'The Ape'Nai tear't it t' shreds.'

Three days later Nai'Jemon, now clad in ordinary chain armor like his warriors, led half of his force into the jungle. Aegr marched in front of the troop, his great axe clearing a path for the warriors and golems with ease. Their forceful parade into the GarBrusht, of course, drew out the Gargantan, and they lost a great number of dwarves to the fierce guardians of that region. But their armor was strong and the golems were mighty, and they made their way into the heart of the jungle swiftly. They came to the place where Nai'Jemon's golem had been destroyed and set up camp upon the hill. By the next evening they had built a strong fence around the hill and began construction on something of a watchtower.

This act, of making their camp in the place where they had been outwitted, was meant to be a challenge to the Sparkans' honor. There are few things a dwarf would not suffer before it was revealed that he had been outwitted. Dwarves are certainly not scholars after the fashion of my people, the Lapulians. But they are proud of their swift thinking and their intuitions - both of which they possess in greater measure than any human, mortal or immortal. To be outwitted was the greatest insult a dwarf could endure. But greater still was when a dwarf refused to be cowed by the insult, and made their own humiliation known. In this way Nai'Jemon could say to both his warriors and to the Sparkans, and to all who might in ages to come learn of what had transpired, that Ereg was a trickster, and not a warrior.

When this was reported among the Sparkans the sons of Ereg were enraged. But Ereg restrained them in a forceful tone, saying, 'Mm, sons, Mm. We l'wait. They spit upon us; they make mockery of Sparka, but what be Sparka? A people or a legend? What be Sparka with honor, if it be destroy't?'

'What be people without honor?' Fas asked fiercely. 'It better t' be remember't than dishonor't.'

'Mm,' Ereg said, shaking his head. He stormed away from the fire and entered his shelter, closing the flap tightly against the cold wind.
[Chapter VII:  
The Skatos of Ereg](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

For the Glory of Sparka

Well into the night, when all the others were deep in their dreams, Naj crawled out of his shelter and made his way to the glowing coals of their fire. Fas was there, staring into the fire with a furrowed brow. He threw a stick onto the coals angrily and watched as it flickered aflame and then turned slowly to ash.

'What need have we of a watch?' Naj said as he drew his boots onto his feet.

'None, tonight,' Fas answered. 'They do not know how t' avoid the Gargantan,' he said, referring to the Fistmen.

'Then why watch?' Naj said with a wicked grin.

'Don't tempt me, Naj'Ereg,' Fas smiled. 'You know I am not glad of father's ways.'

'Sparka l'live?' Naj asked, knowing that Fas did not think that it would.

'I hear't the elementals; father hear't them better, and his prophecy was worse than was mine.'

'Then we l'perish?'

Fas did not answer; but to Naj his silence was as good as an affirmation.

'Then let us make Sparka a name this night,' Naj said.

Fas shivered for a moment before looking into his brother's eyes. His face looked to him almost like a reflection, for their features were more similar than many of the other brothers, though Naj had the light brown hair of Ereg and Fas had blonde hair. 'Your spirit be my spirit,' he said fondly.

Several hours later, when the night was at its darkest, a slight whistling sound pierced the air near the camp of the Fistmen. The night sounds in GarBrusht were such that, at first, the dwarves took little notice. To them it seemed like it was just another of the strange bird calls that seemed to shatter the night's peace from time to time. In the end they discovered the source of the sound, not from the hearing thereof, but when some of their guards were found dead, iron quarrels piercing their throats. Thirteen dwarves lay dead already, and with every whistle a new dwarf fell, silently, to the ground. By the time the Fistmen had worked out the direction from which the quarrels flew, Naj - for it was Naj who assailed them - had climbed down from his tree and ascended another. Nine more quarrels came, and nine more dwarves fell before the shooting ended. In all the chaos of the attack, however, the dwarves failed to notice a small shadowy figure with a great axe scaling their southern fence.

Twenty dwarf warriors gathered in the center of the camp with large shields held over their heads to guard against the rain of arrows. Before them of a sudden Fas'Ereg appeared, his enormous axe swirling at them with great speed and force. Their shields broke apart like paper before his attack, and in three strokes, five lay dead, their blood pouring out in streams. The others fell upon him quickly, swinging swords and axes at him recklessly. But Fas fought with all the glory and passion of a doomed hero. They expected him to fall back and flee from them, but he stood where he was and cut deep into their ranks, slaying left and right, disregarding the injuries they inflicted upon him. A sword blade cut into his arm, a dart stuck into his side, and a spear pierced his boot, cutting deep into his lower leg. He roared and struck again, this time making an end of the warriors.

By this time the whole encampment was roused, and Fas heard the distant roar of the golems as their fires were lit and their metal bodies whirred to life. 'Come to me!' he shouted boldly. 'Forget not the name of Sparka! Sparka!'

After a moment he was joined by Naj, who had fought his way over the fence while his brother drew the attention of the Fistmen. He had expended his last quarrels and cast his crossbow aside ere he climbed into the encampment. He now bore his sword and shield as he stood beside Fas awaiting death. The others would come to their senses, they thought, when the news of their deaths came to their ears. They would follow suit and make Sparka's name great.

Another group of Fistmen approached, each with swords drawn and heavy shields guarding their bodies. The first to approach stood still in awe when Fas kicked his shield right out of his hand and brought his axe down through his shoulder, cutting him in two right down to his stomach.

Naj rushed forward and blocked several blows with his own shield as Fas readied his enormous axe for another attack. Fas swirled the axe over his head as if to prepare a downward strike, but as the dwarves prepared their defenses, Fas swirled low, bringing the axe across their legs, dropping three of them legless to the ground.

While the others were yet considering the fate of their companions, Naj thrust two more through with his sharp sword, blocked five blows and cut the thumb off of another warrior's right hand.

'Archers!' one of the dwarves shouted as he rushed forward, swinging his sword skillfully at Fas. For a time it was all that Fas could do to defend himself, but the other warrior began to slow, and Fas went on the offensive without hesitation. His axe cut the warrior's sword in two and opened up a great gash in his chain shirt. As soon as the opening appeared, Naj loosed one of his darts into the dwarf's heart, killing him instantly.

They slew five more dwarves before the first arrow pierced the cold midnight air. It cut a gash across Fas' right cheek as it flew past his face. 'Naj!' he shouted, hoping his brother still had his crossbow.

A dart flew from Naj's hand with great speed and force, and the archer fell from his hiding place with a pierced skull.

Fas shook his head in amazement. 'Sharp eyes,' he marveled.

Naj just nodded. He was the youngest, and such a word filled him with pride. He loosed two more darts killing two more archers before they were forced to flee to another part of the camp, where they thought they would be safer from their enemies' projectiles. Naj made certain to retrieve his first dart ere they left, however.

They fought their way through two great companies of warriors, killing or wounding nearly all that came against them. Some of the dwarves even fled from them - which is something dwarves are not often known to do. It was not long before the whole camp was awakened, and the roar of the golems was heard approaching. 'We do't it, brother Fas,' Naj said proudly, a white-toothed smile breaking the darkness of his blood-smeared face.

'WE have,' Fas said, emphasizing that it was as much Naj's work as his own. 'The golems l'come to us together. We must move and draw them away from each other.'

Naj nodded and followed after Fas as they cut their way deeper into the camp, to the place where the warriors tents lay. Naj cast a lantern onto the roof of a tent and set it ablaze, the cries from within drawing the attention of all the other warriors.

'That comes of sleeping through such noise,' Fas laughed.

Many of the dwarves among the tents were ill-prepared for the fight that had come upon them, and the slaughter Naj and Fas inflicted upon them was great. Many of them were not yet fully in their armor, and some fought with only shortswords or hatchets. All the while the roar and stomp of the golems drew louder and nearer, until over the top of the hill Fas could see the great iron axeman of Aegr approaching like a thunderstorm, smoke billowing from pipes atop the golem's head.

'They come!' Naj said, nervously, breathing deeply and slowly to keep his fear under control. His body began to shake slightly as the second golem, the four-legged iron monster of Vorin, rose over the top of the hill, its death-tipped tail slashing about angrily. When Fas saw his brother's fear his own confidence melted. He knew that they were going to die. Naj was closer in age to little Dan'Ereg than he was to Fas and San, who were Ereg's eldest sons. He was not prepared for this, Fas thought mournfully. 'Come, Naj!' he shouted. 'We l'go now!'

But as he began to run, Naj remained perfectly still, staring at the coming golems with tear filled eyes. 'Naj!' Fas repeated.

'No,' Naj said, his fist tightening around his last dart. 'Sparka l'not be forgotten!' He started up the hill nervously, his resolve forcing his terrified body onward. All three of the remaining golems approached them, spreading out to make room for one another's sweeping attacks. There was Aegr and his iron axeman, Vorrin with his four-legged iron beast and another - shaped like a great iron box with six wheels on each side and a dwarf riding atop with a huge crossbow. In the gap between the golems stood a great host of armored dwarves, ready to block any attempt at retreat. Naj strode forward into the open, his sword and shield held in his left hand; in his right hand he clutched his dart. He shook violently, and gained his composure just as he pulled back and threw. The dart flew past all the armor and iron of Aegr's golem and pierced the great dwarf's eye, sending the iron-man in which he rode into fits of rage and agony. His axe swung and his golem wobbled, smashing into a tree and breaking itself to pieces as its rider died. Aegr fell and his golem lay still, smoke billowing uselessly into the night air from the wreck.

For a moment Fas was filled with elation, as his brother had, with a single dart, become Glumbane - a golem-slayer. The other golems approached, and Fas remembered his own courage. But neither of them anticipated the range of Vorin's iron monster. The tail flung out wildly, stretching across the great distance and piercing Naj through the stomach.

Time froze for an instant, it seemed to Fas, and then Naj was lifted high into the air. The tail smashed him to the ground with force such as no dwarf, man or elf could have withstood. He lay still as the golem struggled to pull its tail from the ground into which it had plunged.

Fas looked on in horror as the dwarves and golems began their approach. He was not afraid to die - but the sight of his brother lying there wounded or killed was more than he could bear. He took up his axe and held it over his head, leaned back and threw it with all the force he could muster at Vorin's iron beast. The great axe flew through the air, severing the iron tail and spinning into the host of dwarves, killing ten of them as it tore through their ranks before sinking deep into the trunk of a tree. He rushed to Naj's side.

'Naj'Ereg!' he shouted, tears streaming down his face despite his best dwarven efforts.

Naj tilted his head slightly. His face was pale and cold and he could only say, with blood streaming from his mouth, 'Sparka.'

'No,' Fas said firmly, 'Not Sparka, Naj. Naj'Ereg l'not be forgotten!'

'A tear,' Naj said urgently. 'A tear for Dan'Ereg.' He shut his eyes and loosed a single drop from his left eye. Fas kissed his brother's cheek, soaking the tear up with his beard.

'I l'bring it t' him, brother,' Fas said sorrowfully.

At that instant an arrow pierced his shoulder and Fas fell back to the ground in pain. As he tumbled onto his back a small bottle fell from his pocket and came to rest upon his chest. It was the Potene'dra - the 'Drink of Strength' he bought before they crossed the first of the Scars. It now seemed like an age had passed since then. They had known nothing then of the perils that would befall their people. He broke the seal and poured the thick potion into his mouth.

For a moment all pain vanished from his limbs. He tore the arrow from his shoulder and rose suddenly to his feet, his mind as clear as a mountain lake, his arms as strong as a Gargantan, his legs as strong as a bull's. The first dwarf that approached him he grabbed and tore to pieces with his bare hands, breaking his mail and shield as though they were made of paper. He charged forward, his eyes fixed upon Vorin's now damaged golem. An arrow struck his leg, but he felt nothing. A sword pierced his side, but he did not slow. He came to the golem and pushed it over onto its side, sending it rolling wildly down the hill, breaking Vorrin's body as it tumbled. He turned his gaze then to the final golem, which now approached him with its crossbow turning carefully to find its mark. Nai'Jemon, also, was present, his armor gleaming by torchlight. But as Fas prepared to attack them, his strength dropped from his limbs like water over a waterfall. He fell to his knees and was sick.

'Naj,' he said weakly and sorrowfully. Nothing else passed through his mind for a long while except the words, 'I have fail't.' Somewhere, as if it were a dozen leagues away, Nai'Jemon was speaking proud and wrathful mockeries, but Fas could not understand a word of it. He looked about, and saw all the warriors approaching him slowly as if time itself was caught in a web.

Slowly the thought came over him that he was about to die. But his mind felt like it was filled with mud, and he could not move his arms or legs. Nai'Jemon approached him with his sword held high and with a wrathful look upon his face. 'Let Sparka and its people rot with a curse!' he said.

Fas shut his eyes and breathed deeply, for one last time swallowing his pain.

The Sparkans

As Nai'Jemon approached, his angered expression gave way to one of awe and fear.

Fas turned, and to the north he could see something that looked like a golem approaching quickly, battering through hordes of dwarves. When it drew near, however, Fas could see the front of Haf's great shield plowing through dwarf warriors, and scattering them to the left and right. Behind him stood Jah, with his spear swiftly piercing anyone who was not trampled by his brother's shield. At each side of Haf, slaying all who might come against him from behind, stood San with his two swords whirling and Ereg wielding the sword Skatos with deadly precision. The golems and the warriors that surrounded Fas suddenly turned their attention toward this new attack, forgetting the sickly dwarf for a moment.

Fifteen quarrels flew from the final golem, but they all glanced off Haf's shield, the other dwarves taking cover behind him as they made their way up the hill. 'Ereg,' Nai'Jemon addressed them, 'Ereg's sons, you have made a name for Sparka. But it will be a dark name, for we shall carry the report of your death to the north.'

'Coward!' Ereg thundered.

Silence fell almost immediately - it was against all custom and honor to accuse another dwarf warrior of cowardice. Slay his kin, murder his beloved, steal every piece of gold and silver from his treasures - all this was forgivable. 'We blood-foes, then, and our kin forever,' Nai'Jemon said solemnly, his nostrils flaring as he attempted to swallow his shock and rage. 'How many you have kill't for t' sake of t' Elementals and their dreams. Curse you, fool. Fist and Antfister are innocent of your blood. Our lands have done nothing t' Sparka.'

'Liar and Coward,' Ereg replied. 'The Jee'Nai lie not, and I not mistake them. If I swing my blade, though at first it does not slay, t' beginning of t' blow is as much an attack as when it pierces flesh. Fist and Antfister have lusted after t' north for ages, and have plan't war with Turg. Your sword is raised, and your blow descends even as we speak. But we have kill't you first. 'Liar, Coward, Fool, thrice cursed, Nai'Jemon.'

The silence that fell over the dwarves hung over them still as Ereg emerged from amid his sons, his bloodstained sword gleaming by firelight. The only sound that could be heard was the labored breathing of Fas and the thunderous rumble of the last golem. But no one would interfere with what had become a matter of honor.

Nai'Jemon pointed his sword at Ereg and spat. They would speak no more words to one another while breath yet remained within them. Their movements were swift and their blows deadly as they swirled and spun, each imbuing their attacks with more than a century of experience. Nai'Jemon at first expected the fight to end swiftly. He parried one of Ereg's blows and struck, expecting his clever reprisal to make an end of his enemy. Ereg, however, ducked low, escaping the attack and cutting deeply into the other dwarf's leg. Nai'Jemon hissed, but held his tongue back from cursing. When such feuds arose among dwarves it was customary to remain silent until the object of one's hatred was slain. Some dwarves had been known to remain silent for more than a decade as they awaited the opportunity to slay their blood-foes.

Ereg smiled wickedly as he anticipated a quicker satisfaction.

Nai'Jemon made a clever flurry of attacks, each time bringing his sword swiftly down upon Ereg. But within Ereg's eyes he could see a fire kindled, and he knew that there was nothing else within the other dwarf's mind but the fight. He cut across toward Ereg's head, expecting to see Ereg's head fall from his neck. But Ereg leaned back, rolling back onto his shoulders. With a great exertion and a shout he put his hands upon the ground and hurled his entire body high into the air, over Nai'Jemon's head. As he descended he cut deep into the back of his enemy's neck, Skatos severing the bone with ease.

With life still beaming from his eyes, Nai'Jemon fell powerless to the dirt, his head limply drooping upon his neck as he gurgled and choked. Ereg spat, and thrust his blade rapidly into Nai'Jemon's limbs, inflicting as many wounds as he could upon the man who had slain his son Naj. The wounds, however, did not seem to affect him, and no matter how he cut the dwarf he could elicit no cry of anguish or moan of agony. The wound he inflicted had been too merciful, he realized with regret. Dwarves were expected to give their enemies a swift, if not glorious death. But when it came to those who were thus opposed to one another, the usual rules did not apply.

The silence remained, even as Nai'Jemon's flesh turned pale and his labored breath vanished away. The sound of the golem stopped also, and the dwarves lowered their weapons as they gazed upon the devastation that surrounded them.

'Ereg,' a voice called out from within the last golem. 'Peace?' The archer who stood upon the golem lowered his crossbow and looked upon the Sparkans anxiously. Normally a golem rider would be fearless and full of confidence. Having seen the other golems fall, however, and having seen so many brave dwarves come to ruin, he could not muster anything resembling assurance.

'Peace,' Ereg said, turning his attention at last to his sons.

Fas he passed by in silence, not even glancing at him. He came to Naj and lifted him gently from the ground where he lay. A thousand thoughts rushed into his mind, threatening to overcome him. But he breathed deeply and sighed. A thousand curses came to his tongue - a thousand curses for the elves who brought all this upon him. A curse for Agonas and his ambition, a curse for Gheshtick and his loyalty, a curse for Xan and his cold intellect, and a curse for Zefru and the others for their witless cowardice. But even as these feelings raged within him he remembered the words of the Jee'Nai. The destruction that was coming to Turg could not be altered, and the coming of the elves had nothing at all to do with what had happened here.

He swallowed his feelings and started down the hill, the Fistmen parting to make way for the slayer of their commander. One golem yet remained in the camp, but he had sued for peace. A dwarf's word was as certain as an Elementals, and therefore the golem was, as far as Sparka was concerned, as good as dead. Silently his sons filed in behind him and followed him out of the camp through the main gate, vanishing quietly into the GarBrusht. Fas remained where he lay for a time, fighting with all his might to restrain his sorrow and grief. He breathed swiftly and deeply, trying to swallow his pain and shame, but in the end it felt to him as if his anguish swallowed him whole. A rage passed over him, and his clouded mind became clear again. There was nothing to say. The others knew his reasons. They understood the whole matter from start to finish. There would never be a reason to speak of it. Nonetheless he knew that they were wrathful with him, and that something had been lost that day that would never be regained - something more than the life of his brother. Grief swept over him once more as he thought of how close Dan and Naj had been, and how Dan, still just a child, would respond to the news of his brother's passing.

The thing that stung him the most, however, was the realization that the dwarves of Sparka had, in the end, triumphed, and inflicted their injury upon Fist and Antfister. golems were almost always ridden by their inventors, and when their makers passed into death, the secrets of their construction passed as well. There were now only three golems in Fist, and one of them had surrendered to the Sparkans. He had not forseen the possibility of success, and he treated his life and his brother's life with contempt because of his ignorance. He rose from the ground and stormed past many armed dwarves, to the place where his axe had landed. With a great effort he pulled it from the tree, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the camp. Every eye was fixed upon him and a murmur arose among the Fistmen. They were calling him a Berserker - which is to say, 'a soulless one.'

Burial

Dwarves do very little to prepare their dead for burial, and they do even less to preserve the bodies. They are never lain where they died, for they believed that the dead must be returned to the earth, and that they could not return if they went nowhere. So Ereg and his sons did not go very far into the GarBrusht before they dug a hole, laid Naj's body within it and gave him one final kiss upon the brow. Fas came last, still without speaking so much as a word to the others.

The body was then covered with dirt. The dwarves used no coffins or encasements for their dead, as being surrounded by the earth was, in their minds, like being bound in crimson silk. As dirt piled upon his sleeping face they held back their tears, thinking how beautiful a thing it was to make such a return. In time he would be taken up by the ground and become part of all things once again, though never again in the form in which they knew him. They called this process (the process of decay) Jee'ninta, which signifies, 'the becoming of substance' or 'becoming the elementals'. Indeed, from that point on they knew that they could hear him if they listened to the elements - for he was no longer distinct from them. Such, at least, is the understanding of the dwarves concerning the dead. And I dare say it is a deeper understanding than what is possessed among our own people, and among most other human cultures. Even the Nihlion, though their doctrines are profound and deep, do not always fully grasp this truth.

This is evidenced from the careless treatment the dwarves received at the hands of the author of the Wars of Weldera, who seemed to regard dwarves as little more than exceptionally clever, hairy little goblins. Even as he criticized those who knew not the nature of goblins, so also did he make himself vulnerable to the accusation that he knew not the nature of the dwarves. But there were never any dwarves in his homeland of Solsis, and there were none in Weldera in those days save for a small remnant of recluse delvers in the Mountains of Desset. Now there are none in Weldera at all - and perhaps none in the whole continent of Illmaria. There are certainly none in Malgier, where it is said the last of the High Elves yet resides. But the Lapulians have always had the dwarves of Zoor for their northern neighbors, if such a term is appropriate here, and therefore understand them better than one who learned only what the dead libraries of Dadron had to reveal.

Lapulians also should understand how careful one must be when studying the histories of the elves!

When the dwarves had piled the dirt high atop Naj's body they swallowed the last of their sadness and pressed on into the GarBrusht, solemnly making their way back to their camp. Fas still trailed far behind them, his mind fluctuating rapidly between remorse, anger, hopelessness and fear.

The Fistmen made their own burial arrangements for the fallen, gathered their supplies and made their way quickly to the Rugar River. After crossing they made sure that there remained no bridge by which the Gargantan might again cross into Antfister. In a sense their mission had been successful - for Ereg and the Sparkans would no longer trouble the land. But their army had been humiliated and their captain had been slain in a feud. The last golem-rider sued for peace, preventing them from seeking revenge against the people of Sparka. Wherever the dwarves went, however, the tale of Ereg's swordsmanship was spread, and the quick sword of Ereg became a blade of great fame and renown.

All over Fist and Antfister, Turg and eventually all of Kharku its name was spoken: the Skatos-Ereg.
[Chapter VIII:  
The Kingdom of Seasons](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Sky Prison

Agonas and the other elves of Sunlan understood very little of what happened to them in the next several months following their capture. They remained bound nearly all the while, only being allowed the use of their hands for a short time each day, and only when it was necessary for the sake of cleanliness or for eating. They were never given enough light or freedom to discover where they were held. They were not permitted to see the sun and they could get no answers from their captors.

They were quickly handed off to another group of warriors and brought after several weeks to a large city - or so Agonas guessed from the sounds and smells. They were placed before a large group of people, who seemed to be deliberating about them fiercely. Xan spoke quickly and angrily in the language of their captors, protesting their accusations violently. From what little Agonas could discern, they had been put on trial for some crime (trespassing he assumed) and found guilty. The term 'LofBrusht' was one of the few words that he recognized, and it was spoken over and over throughout the trial. When all was finished, a loud bang echoed through the hall, and a booming voice cried out, 'Ifin, adto LofBrusht!' The elves were immediately grabbed and pushed out of the hall, thrown into a carriage and transported far from the city in a direction Agonas could not hope to guess. For a long period of time they traveled in this manner, stopping sometimes to spend a few days in this or that village, but never being allowed to see their surroundings or have any respite from their rough treatment.

Finally, after a few more weeks they came to a place that smelled heavily of tree sap. They were forced to drink something rather foul, and then a black, dreamless sleep took them for a long while.

When Agonas awoke he thought for a moment that he was back upon his ship. But even as he opened his eyes he began to remember how the ship had been wrecked, and everything else that had come to pass since that time. Having spent so much time bound and blinded of late, however, he could not guess how long ago it had been.

Even as he thought on these things, though, he noticed that the place where he lay was indeed tipping like a ship tossed about on the waves. He rose, clumsily from his bed - it was not at all an uncomfortable bed, much to his surprise. He began to walk toward an open doorway through which he could see a great deal of greenery, but as he approached he felt the whole building tip and he lost his footing. He fell to the ground with a thud and grasped for something to hold onto. Out the window he now saw that the house in which he had awoken was built atop an enormous pine tree. The ground loomed toward him as the tree bent under the weight of the house and under the power of a gentle but steady breeze. He gasped, and braced himself for the crash, though he knew that from this height there was no chance that he might survive the fall. Just as he became certain that he was falling the tree halted, paused, and then swung back in the opposite direction, the great strength of the tree trunk fighting against the wind.

'It was like that for me when I awoke,' Zefru admitted, laying upon his own soft bed staring up at the ceiling as if he were perfectly at his leisure.

'Where are we?' Agonas said, slowly coming to terms with the constant movement of their - 'prison?'

'If this is what prison means to the Sesana,' Zefru said with a laugh, 'then I have been a thief in the wrong land!'

'Perhaps the prisons in Sunlan are like this too - you have never been caught,' Agonas replied in jest.

'That is true enough,' Zefru said. 'But that does not mean that I have not seen the stink pits they have built in Sunlan for those they deem unworthy of freedom.'

'What is going on?' Agonas asked, remembering their purpose. 'Where are the others?'

'They are near,' Zefru said. 'In a tree just a potato's throw north of here. You can hear them talking in the night - and so I threw potato at them to silence them. It was just about as far as I could toss it.'

'How long have I been sleeping?' Agonas said, realizing that Zefru's comfort must have meant that he had been awake for much longer.

'You have slept a full two days longer than I. But do not worry, I,' and Zefru placed great emphasis on that word, 'have not picked your pockets.'

'Curse those blabbering fools,' Agonas said with a hiss, remembering how they had taken his sword from him. 'What are they going to do with us?'

'Hopefully leave us up here forever,' Zefru said. 'I am one for the city. Make no mistake, my lord, but I think I could get used to a life like this one. Fresh meals are sent up in buckets each day - not great food - but fresh and wholesome. The wind at night is a bit frightening, but the Sesana have assured us that these trees have stood here for nearly an age of the world. They call them "Dragon-thorn", or something like that.'

'Then our captors have spoken with you?' Agonas said curiously.

'Not directly,' Zefru said. 'Most of what I have learned came from Xan; but there is only so much information that he was willing to shout at me. There is a grey-haired man, however - a learned man by the look of him - who came for the past few days and poured soup down your throat and kept your bed clean. He and several guards came up and spoke for a little while.'

'What sort of a man is he?' Agonas said suspiciously.

'He might have been a priest of some kind, or perhaps a sage. He spent a good deal of time over in the love-nest yesterday,' Zefru shook his head in the direction of Xan's tree. 'The two of them never seem to tire of learning - it is enough to make one sick. "Tell me of your people's legends, oh Xan of Thure,"' Zefru said with a false whine. '"Oh Gheshtick, wise man of the north,"' he continued to mock, '"tell me of the economics in Centan - and of the twistings and windings of the River Esse on which your sage-peasants dwell."'

Agonas chuckled. 'I should be happy, then, I guess,' he laughed, 'that I have been put here in your company rather than in theirs.'

'You should thank all the gods, my lord - and do not forget the God of gods, or the Jinn of the Sparkans.'

'The Sparkans,' Agonas said, remembering their dwarven companions. 'I don't suppose we will see them again.'

'If I were one of them, I would return to Sparka and forget they ever knew what an elf was - or,' he said with a slight grin, 'I would sneak over here to LofBrusht and chop down these trees. Or maybe I would send up a Gargantan.'

'I don't think you can make those monsters do what you want them to do,' Agonas said, remembering the terror of GarBrusht. The memory of the sound of Udraja's cracking skull made his knees feel weak for a moment. He sat down upon his bed again. It really was a nice bed, he thought. 'Can we climb down from here?' he asked after a little time had passed.

'You can try,' Zefru said. 'But there are not many branches, and we are not the tree's only inhabitants. There are enormous nests of serpents and some frogs that Xan assured me were deadly poisonous. Since I cannot ask the old man myself I figured I would trust what I hear. I don't think Xan would warn me if he meant me any ill will.'

'How do we eat?' Agonas said, suddenly turning his attention to his empty stomach.

'Oh, there is a rope and a pulley, as I said, too weak to bear a man's weight, but strong enough to bring up food and drink.'

'Where?' Agonas said anxiously.

'There, next to the stove,' Zefru pointed.

The prison in which they were kept - if prison is the right word for such a place - was fastened to the trunk of the tree by a great leathern cord that seemed to wrap around the trunk a thousand time, securing the 'box' in which their beds were built to the tree while still allowing a significant amount of movement to take place. As the tree swayed, the box swayed, and were it not for the fact that all the furniture was fastened to the wooden floorboards, everything would spill out over the edge whenever the wind blew hard enough. The box in which their quarters lay was like the inside of a tiny house, but there was no door, and no windows either. There were leather tarps that could be tied down, and these did a great deal to hold the warmth of a small iron stove within the box. Next to the stove lay a pile of wood, a small basket filled with bread and a pitcher of water heavy enough to stay put despite all the motion of the tree.

For a long while Agonas did nothing more than stuff himself with stale bread and cold ham.

Distant Kinship

From shouting back and forth across the space between their two trees, Agonas learned from Xan that they had been captured for trespassing, just as he had suspected. Thure and the Adapnan were known to the Sesana, and they believed Xan's claim that he was the lord of that northern village. In fact it was only because they believed their tale that they did not place them in a less pleasant prison, and they had assured Xan that they had many such places within their kingdom.

The man who had come to see them was named Robern, and after the elves had been in the prison of LofBrusht for two more weeks he returned, this time with a great deal of parchment and ink. He went first to see Agonas, and to make sure that he and Zefru were in good health.

Spring had come, and the forest had become quite beautiful. The Dragon-thorn pine trees were green throughout the year, but in spring they were decked with beautiful purple and pink flowers the size of a man's chest that blossomed from great coiling vines that grew around their trunks. In every direction these great swaying gardens could be seen dancing on the gentle spring breeze. During that time Agonas became convinced that these cells had not been made to be prisons originally.

Robern was old enough to be fully grey, but not so old that he showed any sign of world-weariness or senility. His eyes were bright grey and filled with life and wisdom. He was a lettered man, and could speak many tongues, though he knew very little of the language of Thure (which was quite similar to the language of Bel Albor). Xan knew the tongue of Sesana well enough, however and the two spent a great deal of time in conversation.

'It is not like a man of Kharku,' Robern said to Xan, 'to cast his lot so fully with foreign adventurers. What of your people? What of your family? What of the legacy of Thure and its Adapnan?'

'My people are well cared for,' Xan replied. 'I would not, nor have I left them without a protector.'

'But you are Adapnan,' he replied. 'Surely they could have no better protector.'

'Whether that is the case or not is unclear,' Xan replied. 'If you were so certain that the Adapnan were the best rulers, then you would have made my ancestors your lords ages ago. No, the Sesana have always distrusted the Adapnan, and so your question is insincere. Is it any wonder, then, that you find me to be so distrustful of you? Perhaps the people of Thure are better off without me.'

'Very well,' Robern said, scratching his head thoughtfully, 'But still, why have you cast your lot with these outsiders? What are you here in Sesana to accomplish? You know as well as I that one cannot simply let anyone march through their land armed as if for battle.'

'We are not here to trouble the Kingdom of Seasons,' Xan said firmly.

'I believe you, master of Thure,' Robern said patiently. 'But nonetheless, you are here for something. What is it? It may not be to harm Sesana - I cannot pretend to know. But only by knowing the truth can I truly rule out that which you deny. Shall we remain here until I have guessed and you have denied every purpose, so that only one remains? The Kingdom of Seasons is an ancient kingdom, and we can wait for an answer. You, my dear Adapnan, can wait too.'

Xan breathed out slowly through his nose. He had no intention of telling this man anything. It was not for him to reveal Agonas' mission, and he knew that the Sesana would look upon them with disdain if they knew their purposes. In their chief city there was a sculpture of the Great Beast, which was credited with the long survival of the city of Sesno.

'You must understand,' Xan said sorrowfully, 'I cannot tell you that. I would be willing to tell you anything, and I know why you must know that which you ask of me - for I too am a guardian of souls- but what you ask of me would be a betrayal.'

'If that is the way it must be, then so it must be,' Robern said. 'Know, however, that I would not ask such a thing were it not for the duty that presses against me - my duty to this country and its thousands.'

'I understand as well.'

Robern rose from his seat and gathered up his parchments and his quill, which were disappointingly blank. He stretched and made a motion toward his guards, who approached him and took up the empty baskets which had brought provisions to the prisoners. Gheshtick sat on a chair nearby, watching curiously. Robern had taken a brief look at him to make sure that he was in good health, but since he knew nothing of the language of Sesana, there was little more that could be learned from him.

'But may I ask, for my own understanding,' Robern said suddenly, pausing as he made his way toward the lift that had brought him and the guards up to the prison. 'Why these foreigners? I do not press you for an answer on his purpose, but I do wish to understand why it is that you would forsake all for these strangers. Why would you leave Thure? Why would you risk life and freedom for them?'

'They are as I am,' Xan said, not sure if it was wise to share this information with his captor.

'They are Adapnan?' Robern said, his brow furrowed in amazement. 'I thought the Adapnan were only born in Thure.'

'There is a kingdom of them in the far north,' Xan said, 'A great kingdom, where the king lives in a palace of gold. They have come from B'alboru, whence my ancestors departed in an age long passed. In them I see the answer to many riddles, and from them I stand to learn the history of my people.'

'Is this truly the reason? You are faithful to these Adapnan for the sake of history? For the sake of curiosity?' Robern said, somewhat incredulously.

'There are few coincidences, properly so called, in this world, master Robern,' Xan said. 'What a coincidence it would be, if my people left their ancient homes in search of the goddess Eva'Nai and these Adapnan - or, 'elves' as they call themselves - should depart from a port named Evnai - named for a goddess of the same denomination. And how great a coincidence it would be that they and we of Thure should speak the same tongue, though much has apparently changed in the pronunciation. No, master Robern, I do not believe in such coincidences easily. Rather, I ascribe these strange facts to a common cause, and our peoples to a common people. The people of Thure have long been held in disdain as strangers among the Kharukers. But we are strangers; our history and our people lie elsewhere.'

'Then it is,' Robern said with a pause, 'out of kinship? You follow them because they are, however distantly, relatives to the people of Thure?'

'Do you have children, master Robern?' Xan asked.

After giving it a moment of thought, and looking around the prison suspiciously, Robern decided it would be safe to answer him. 'I have three sons,' he said.

'And what do they owe one another? And what do you owe them?' Xan asked. 'If one were in danger, would you not give your life for him?'

'Without delay, master Adapnan,' Robern said without any sign of hesitation.

'And what do you wish for them? Do you wish for them to abandon one another, or do you want them to care one for the other? You would not, for instance, want the eldest to leave his younger brother to drown, without some small effort to save his brother's life.'

'No, I would not want that,' Robern affirmed.

'And what of your grandchildren?' Xan continued. 'You would want your sons to value and preserve them, even as you have valued and preserved your own sons. They would, in fact, be ungrateful if they treated their own children with less regard than you had for them. But should the children of the elder be utterly neglected by your youngest child? If, the gods forbid it, your eldest were to perish, would it not be the responsibility of the other brothers to look after the care and upbringing of their brother's children?'

'It would be, according to the laws of Sesana, and according to the laws of mankind.'

'This is all that I do here,' Xan said suddenly. 'I am looking after my father's sons.'

After taking a moment to reflect upon this, Robern nodded pensively. 'It is true what they say about the wisdom of Thure,' he said as he began to leave once again. 'I hope that all ends well with you and your companions,' he added. 'But you understand that I can do nothing for you if you are not willing to answer me fully.'

Xan nodded understandingly.

'Until we speak again, master Xan of Thure, let the winds blow warm upon you!' Robern said.

'Let them blow warm upon you as well,' Xan replied, taking the blessing to be some custom of Sesana.

The Changing Land

The hours and days soon turned to weeks and months, and the prisoners of LofBrusht, which Agonas learned meant 'High-Forest', soon began to find that they understood the language of the Sesana.

Robern returned every other week, bringing leather bound books and scrolls for the elves to read and examine. And soon they could read as well as speak the language of the Kingdom of Seasons. Robern could now ask, and not just examine them to determine their health.

Zefru, much to Agonas' amazement, seemed to have an unbreakable contentedness while they were imprisoned in the sky. Perhaps it was because he had spent uncountable years fleeing imprisonment that the sudden release - though it came in the form of the imprisonment he feared - was restful to his soul. He had no worries, no distresses, and no fears. He took to rope-making, which he joked was going to be their means of escape. He soon learned to make ropes from the vines that grew upon the great Dragon-thorn trees. He also learned that the vines with red leaves should NEVER be handled, and that none of the berries that grew in LofBrusht were fit for eating. He wished, however, that he had learned these things from conversations with Robern, and not through his own experience.

The Dragon-thorn were easy enough trees to climb, though no man could hope to climb all the way to the ground without a good, sturdy rope. There were guards patrolling the forest below, and they would discover anyone trying to climb down long before they could reach the ground. This was especially the case since, as the elves learned from Robern, they were currently the only prisoners in LofBrusht. It was, as Agonas suspected; these little houses were not originally built to be a prison. The Sesana had put the elves here, in part, Agonas thought, to win them over by the beauty and tranquility of the forest. If they were enemies of Sesana, then they must reckon with that which they hoped to destroy. In truth it was mostly out of respect for Xan, who was a legitimate ruler in Kharku. They could not let them go, according to their laws and their customs, but they would not harm or maltreat one who was a lord of men.

Zefru took to climbing the Dragon-thorn, and for many hours at a time he would disappear from the box and return with eggs or sometimes even birds for eating. 'There are some big snakes not far from here,' he told Agonas. They could swallow a child,' he exclaimed. 'We should not sleep too soundly I think.' But Zefru slept as soundly as anyone ever had. He, for the only time in his life, had peace in the prison of LofBrusht.

Agonas, on the other hand, spent his ours in torment of mind. The beauty of the prison had much the same effect upon him as it had upon Zefru and the others. But every moment that passed he thought about his brother, and whether or not he had succeeded in his own mission. If too much time passed, he thought, they would think that he was dead, and, the thought gnawed upon him, they would give the hand of Indra, daughter of Ijjan, to another.

Untold months passed, and soon they knew the language of Sesana well enough to be questioned themselves. From Zefru Robern could learn nothing, and all of his questions seemed to be directed toward convincing their captors to keep them in LofBrusht indefinitely. This agitated Agonas, since he knew that it was ridiculous to think that they would maintain the expense of keeping and feeding them forever - and it would be forever, since they were elves, or Adapnan, as the Kharukers called them.

In his conversations with Gheshtick, Robern always walked away with the feeling that he had been the one who had been interrogated. For the most part this was the case. He had gone up to see if he could learn anything about their mission from Gheshtick, but he had spent three hours explaining the doctrines and practices of the Sesana priests. How this had happened he could not recall. But it was impossible to ask the elf anything without answering ten questions yourself.

Agonas was polite to him, but he would say nothing to him concerning their mission. As time went on, however, Agonas despaired of the possibility that he would find some way to escape. Pelas would be only too happy to return from his quest alone, and would make no effort to learn what had happened to his brother. That bitter thought was particularly strong in his mind one day when Robern ascended to the prison. So powerful was its influence upon his mood that he found himself angrily responding, 'We have come to slay the Drake-Ya - the Beast of the Earth.'

When first he heard this Robern laughed. When he saw the sincerity in Agonas' face, however, he halted, realizing that it was no jest. When he further saw the immortal passion behind the elf's gaze he was almost convinced that the elf might succeed.

'The Drake'Ya is called the Changer in Sesana,' Robern said, taking a seat by the stove. He looked curiously for a moment at a basket filled with blue and crimson eggs that Zefru had gathered from the high branches of the Dragon-thorn. He sighed and then continued, 'The world is change. Life is change. Death is change. All is change,' he said as though reciting something. 'He who fights it sets themselves against the order of all things. And he who strives against the world will be crushed thereby.' He then looked Agonas straight in the eyes and said, 'We cannot allow you to harm the Beast.'

Agonas sat down and shrugged his shoulders. 'How could I harm it?' he asked grumpily. 'I cannot escape from a tree-house; what chance have I against such a beast?'

'An ill wind can carry a disease upon its gentle flows,' Robern said. 'And a little wind in a sickly village can spread death to thousands. You may feel yourself to be small and insignificant; any decent man is aware of as much. But the good man understands that even a little person can do great harm.'

'Harm?' Agonas said, puzzled. 'Would I not be hailed as a hero for slaying the Beast?'

'By some,' Robern answered. 'By most,' he admitted. 'But not in Sesana,' added firmly.

'Do the Sesana worship the Beast, then?' Agonas asked.

'Hardly,' the old man replied in frustration. 'You do not understand the our kingdom, master elf.'

'Then explain it to me,' Agonas said, crossing his arms. 'I am not going anywhere and I have plenty of time to sit and listen.'

Robern was not quite sure whether the other man was sincere in his interest or not. When Agonas made no further comments, he began to speak about Sesana.

'Ours is a Kingdom of Seasons,' he began, 'for that is what the term Sesana means in the common tongue of Kharku. But a season is not a season for remaining idle. Here in the south it is not like the Peppered Desert, where there is but heat and sand throughout the year. Here change comes to the land and the air. The winter buries us beneath mounds of snow. The summer scorches our flesh, the spring eases our labors with cool breezes and waters our crops with heavy rains. The autumn nourishes the land with the passing of the leaves, and fills our storehouses for the coming winter. All of this is change, and we have embraced it as a people and as a land. Many kingdoms strive to maintain themselves the same way at all times. But ages of the world are like seasons too. And he who thrives in a summer age might perish in the winter - I speak here of ages and kingdoms, not of men. The Kingdom of Seasons has understood this; and we know that the time will come when we must abandon our cities perhaps, or when we must take to the seas, or when we must make a living among the rocks of the mountains, or even in the desert. Change rolls through all lands, and we alone welcome it and embrace it. The Beast is a destroyer. All change destroys that which was with that which now is. So also with the Beast. He will awaken, and perhaps he will consume Sesno itself - he has done as much many times before. But we have embraced it. For a destruction is also a creation.'

Agonas looked at him with wonder for minute, but then a grin came over his face. 'You have embraced change, indeed, old man of Sesana. You love it so much that you wish for it always to remain the same. Perhaps the Beast need not always ravage Kharku - THAT would be a change.'

Robern sighed, 'What about yourself?' he asked. 'What have you against the Drake'Ya, that you would traverse the mighty seas to slay him?'

'I do it not for any hatred of the Monster,' Agonas explained. 'I do it because it is only by accomplishing this feat that I can hope to win the hand-'

Before Agonas could finish his explanation Robern interrupted, 'A woman? You will slay the Lord of the Earth for a woman's hand? Will she even love you for it? If she was worthy of you she would love you whether you were a beast-slayer or not.'

'You know not the beauty of the elves,' Agonas said. 'And you do not know the beauty of Indra, princess of Sunlan. Speak to me about things you understand, or speak to me not at all.'

Robern backed away and said, 'I meant no offense. I understand how fiercely passion can motivate a man. But think of all those who stand to suffer for what you will do.'

'There are as many, I think, who will suffer regardless. I may as well test my fate against the beast.'

'You don't have to live this life,' Robern said, suddenly. 'Whatever else you think or believe, I wish only for you to understand that this path that has been set before you is not the only path. If you and your companions will lay aside your ambitions, you may all live in Sesana as free men. But if you will not repent from your plans, you will dwell in LofBrusht until the day you die. The Drake'Ya, I should add, does not come to this forest. The trees are called Dragon-thorn for a reason - it is the only region of Kharku that he cannot tread, and if the Beast awakens the people of LofBrusht will fly to the forest, and live upon the treetops until the Monster once again ceases from his feasting and raging. And for all that while you will dwell with us. Dwell with us as friends, then, and leave the old path behind. Take a wife from among our daughters - they are not goddesses, perhaps, but I do not think you will be able to say that they are ALL uncomely.'

Agonas sat down upon the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his long black hair.

They spoke no more that day.

Arrowheads And Sundials

By the time the elves had been imprisoned for a month, Xan would later jest, Gheshtick had learned everything the other elf had ever learned. They certainly spent a great deal of time in conversation, only speaking to the other elves when they had some news to report concerning the words of their captors. And once the other elves learned to speak in the tongue of Sesana, they had little need for such conversations. Xan was not altogether unhappy with his partner in imprisonment, but he was not nearly so interested in the Far North as was Gheshtick in the ways of Thure and Kharku. He had always considered himself a learner and a scholar, but when he went two nights with barely a wink of sleep, answering complex queries about the ideas and customs of the Manlands, he decided that he no longer deserved to be called a scholar. Gheshtick was the lord of all scholars - or so he would be when at last he gave up the role of the student.

They continued to discuss the ideas of the Essenes, who Gheshtick considered the most sagacious of mortals.

Xan was respectful of what they had to say, but he was sharp with his criticism. During their long imprisonment Gheshtick brought forward many other ideas to see what Xan would say. Xan had little patience for their prophecies. 'Too vague! I have never heard a prophecy that did not utterly confuse me. And I did not ever see a prophecy fulfilled after the manner in which it was given.'

But Gheshtick was mostly interested in hearing what Xan would say about the arguments and so-called proofs of the Essenes. 'The Essenes,' he began one night, when he perceived that Xan was not in his usual irritable mood. 'believe that there is nothing more certain than that this world was formed and molded by a deeply wise creator. The ground of this belief, they say, is in the order and beauty of the world, and how fitted all things are for one another. They say that, if a man found a parchment upon the ground with letters and symbols written upon it, they would know at once that it was the work of a learned man. But lo, the world is more beautiful and more neatly ordered than a parchment. Everything is so ordered that men ought to understand, just as they understand concerning the maker of the parchment, that the world has a good and wise maker. They say that the world bears the fingerprints of its maker, and everything with such marks demonstrates the being of the great and wise God. For, they say, how can something be planned without a planner?'

Xan stepped back for a moment and thought about the doctrine. But it was not long before he smiled and said, 'There was once a man who saw a woman's name written in the stars. His name was Idu, and there are many fables about him in Kharku. But the story of Idu the Stargazer is perhaps the most humorous. Idu was torn between two women. The one he loved and the other was beloved by his mother, who did not want him to marry a woman with golden hair. Well, one night she filled his cup with wine and showed to him the starry hosts of heaven. The Astral Lords, she said to her son, have declared and decreed what is best for all men in every age. Behold, there in the heavens is the name of your spouse. If you seek an answer, look no further than the heavens. He looked, and, following the motions of her fingers, he saw the name of his mother's favorite written in the heavens. The story ends by saying, he married the girl and was miserable until the end of his days.'

Gheshtick laughed, but was giving the story deep consideration. 'What inspired this story, master Xan?' he asked. 'I think I have understood, but I would like a further explanation, if you do not mind.'

'Very well,' Xan said, 'You see, the stars will spell very nearly anything you wish to spell, especially if you are drunk enough to bend the lines a little. He might just as easily have beheld his beloved's name in the sky, and not his mother's chosen wife. But when he looked, he saw what she wanted him to see. Because it was in his mind that the heavens might choose his bride for him, he thought it to be too great a coincidence to ignore. But in truth, the stars were perfectly indifferent to his circumstances.'

'So you are saying,' Gheshtick suggested, 'that men will see what they want to see in the world.'

'Not just that,' Xan said, leaning forward in his chair. 'You would agree with me if I said that sundials are the work of men, would you not?'

'Of course,' Gheshtick answered.

'And arrowheads also? They do not, after all, grow upon trees.'

'Yes, they are made by men as well.'

'But a stick may fall in such a way as to form a sundial, and it is not, for being in the form of a sundial, the work of intelligence.'

'No,' Gheshtick admitted.

'It is recognized not because of its form alone, but because of its utility. If a thousand stones fell upon one another, we would call it an accident. But if we found them piled upon one another so as to form a house, we would believe it to have a maker. But we would believe it, not for anything in its shape or form, but because WE know what sort of creatures live in such dwellings. Having seen such things, and then seeing another, it is quite natural that we should extend our expectation to the new discovery. But if we knew nothing of man and his needs, what would we think of the house except that it was a curiosity - an odd arrangement of stones, but not any more or less fantastic than any other arrangement. It is because we know the maker, and we know his will that we can look at the devises of man and, recognizing them, assert that they have a wise maker.

'Furthermore,' Xan continued, 'A parchment is contrasted with the works of nature, in the argument of the Essenes. They have suggested that we would recognize it as the work of an intelligent creature because it is ordered and made for a purpose. But why would they not think such a thing of the soil upon which the parchment was discovered? It is because the soil shows no signs of such purpose, is it not? Otherwise, what is so significant about the parchment. The arrowhead, the sundial, and any other mechanism of man is the work of wisdom for being opposed to that which is found in nature. If nature is the work of a wise God, then the examples are quite out of place. We could find the God just as well in a teaspoon of water as in a siege-tower.

'Consider it in this way,' Xan said, his words flowing faster and faster from his lips as he grew more excited. 'If the world were a place utterly unfriendly to mankind, so much so that no man could even survive - if the whole world and every other world was filled to the brim with fireballs and mud-pits, who then would say that it was the work of a wise lord?'

'I think I understand what you are saying,' Gheshtick said thoughtfully. 'It is because we value ourselves that we are wont to assume that we, like the arrowheads and sundials, were created by a wise maker. If we are not so filled with our own greatness, however, then we may be happy accidents, but we do not prove anything.'

'That is exactly right,' Xan said. 'And that is how I would answer your dear Essenes.

Gheshtick took a few moments to think over what had been said. But before he blew out his candle and took to his bed he said, 'One final thing. The Essenes insist that without the being of their God, man can neither do good or evil. He could rape and plunder without fear of punishment, and without committing sin or iniquity. Moreover, he could have every virtue without being righteous, since there would be no rewarder of works to ensure that the good and just receive their due.

Xan barked with laughter when he heard this. 'What devils!' he exclaimed. His mouth was wide open with amazement. 'They truly are the very greatest of cowards!' he said with a guffaw. 'If the only thing that makes the difference between he who murders and he who refrains is whether or not there is an angry God about, then he who does not murder is different from he who kills only for being an absolute coward! And he who strives for virtue only if he is ensured his just reward is more like a cunning merchant than a saint. Every time he gives a poor man his bread it is as though he were purchasing goods to sell in the next town for twice their worth. If that is virtue, then let the Essenes have it and their God. What a disgusting thought!'

Gheshtick laughed at the thought. 'True,' he said, 'your judgment is true. But what have you to say, then, concerning the good and the evil?'

'I say what all men know already. You do not need a terrible God in the skies to do what is right. You do not need his hells and his tortures to be kind toward your kin, or to act rightly and with propriety. Those who say otherwise reveal only their lack of wisdom, and their lack of kindness. Rewards? Punishments? This life has enough of them both to satisfy any seeker of goodness. If they need to fear hell and darkness to refrain from murder, then they are, in heart at least, enemies of mankind.'

It did not occur to Gheshtick, even as it has never occurred to the Mages of Lapulia, whose doctrines have ever mirrored the teachings of Xanthur, that to deny this last proof of the Essenes they denied man the very value upon which they found his rights and upon which they found their rules for conduct. For, if man has value in his eyes alone, then the argument of the Essenes is of no utility. But if you have, by denying man his worth, rendered the argument invalid, how do you go about restoring man's dignity?

This should not seem utterly strange to my readers, however, since men of all ages and of all peoples are wont to hold different rules when it suits them. They might say that there is nothing special about a man in order to argue that there is nothing remarkable in his coming to be; but then, when they must explain why it is a crime to slaughter a man, but it is a profession to slaughter a pig, they say it is because there is something special about the man.

The son of Falruvis said it well when he, as it was recorded in the Wars of Weldera, said that, '...a man's son is not more valuable than a pig to a pig, but only to himself.'

Fate Is In Your Hands

Agonas did not say anything to Robern about his rivalry with his brother Pelas. He was content to let the man think that his entire purpose was to win the hand of a princess. He did not think that Robern would think any more highly of him if he understood the full reason, and so he decided that one bad reason was enough. He did not need to make himself out to be doubly foolish.

The things that Robern had said to him echoed through his mind as he lay in his bed.

He could choose a different life.

He could forget about Parganas, the history of Vitiai, the elves of Thedua and the secret kingdom they had founded in Ilvas. He could forget about Sunlan and its golden palace, he could forget about his brother. He could forget about - and this forced him to swallow as pain entered his throat - Indra.

Whenever he thought about Indra he remembered what he had done to the kinswoman of Amro. He had kidnapped Ele, the kindest soul he had ever met. But she was beyond his grasp now. Indra was his by right. He had sacrificed many other things for his brother's sake. He had given so much of himself to his twin. It was not easy to abandon the old path, with so many things left unfinished, so many investments uncollected, and so many wrongs left unavenged. He did not want to think about how much of his life would prove to be an absolute waste if he turned aside now. Passion arose within him, and it threatened to consume him. He felt as if he could, merely by willing it, topple his prison to the ground and take the Drake'Ya by the tail.

But in the end he released all of this anger and frustration. He released Pelas and his ambitions. He decided to leave it all behind him, and to take Robern's offer. 'Farewell, Indra,' he said, resolving to abandon even her memory if he could manage it.

'I will never again involve myself in my brother's life. I have severed the ties of Fate. It no longer binds me to the North.'

He could not have been more mistaken.
[Chapter IX:  
The Beast](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Escape from LofBrusht

Agonas had very little sense of time during his imprisonment in LofBrusht. For an immortal, the passage of time feels differently, as the accumulation of memory renders each new moment less significant. When a thousand years have passed, a year feels no longer than a month or even a week. So Agonas had no idea how long he had remained in captivity. But his captivity was about to end. Of this he was certain. He had decided to abandon his rivalry, his Doom Path, the daughter of Ijjan and everything else from his former life. Zefru would be happy to remain in Sesana, and Gheshtick could go wherever he wished, learning whatever he pleased without risking life and health for Agonas' ambitions. Xan, also, could return to Thure and resume his stewardship over its people.

These hopes were not to be, however. He woke in a fright one morning, his nostrils filled with the smell of burning.

He rose from his bed and grabbed at his side, looking for his sword. He marveled that it should still be his habit to do so.

Zefru was still sleeping; the thief could sleep through just about anything if he wished. Agonas shook him to wakefulness and the two of them peered over the edge of the prison. 'Are there men fighting below?' Agonas asked, knowing the thief's eyes were sharper than his own. Zefru took one look and then nodded.

'I see five men standing against twelve. Nay,' Zefru corrected himself, 'against ten... six. They are dropping quickly!'

Suddenly a voice called to them from the other prison. Xan and Gheshtick had noticed the conflict as well. 'The woods are aflame!' Xan shouted. 'We had better hope Zefru's ropes will hold us after all.'

Toward the east they could see the source of the smoke and ashes, as several of the great Dragon-thorn pines were slowly burning up, their great bulk sending waves of dark smoke into the air.

There was very little that they could do or learn from where they stood, and they were filled with fear and anxiety until at last they beheld a figure ascending. Agonas and Zefru stepped aside and broke the legs from their table to use as clubs. But their weapons were unnecessary, for the head that appeared over the edge of the box belonged to the dwarf Ereg, whom they had not seen now for over two years.

Agonas' heart sunk into his stomach, as he realized that his decision to abandon his fate had been overruled by Fate herself. For he could not now dwell in peace in the Kingdom of Seasons. He could still abandon the North, to be sure, but only to live as a villain and criminal in the Manlands of Kharku or among the dwarves in the west. He greeted Ereg with fondness and gratitude, but he could only feign joy. His Doom Path had followed his feet and overtaken him.

After a few short words the dwarf led them to the lift and the three of them descended. The beautiful tree that had been their home and prison for the last two years passed them by as they dropped lower and lower toward the ground, vanishing from sight even as all hope and peace vanished from his heart. As the son of Parganas considered this new and unexpected turn of events, he began to recall all the people and places he had just cast from his mind. The name of Indra rose up within him like a flame sparked to life by a lightning strike. All the Fateful passion of his race seemed to enter into him, and he felt as if he could smell the blood of the great Monster already. 'You have come, dear dwarf,' Agonas said, pausing to breath in the black smoke deeply, as if he were calling dark spirits into his soul. 'You have come to make an end of the Drake'Ya, and to fulfill your pledge.'

'Not me alone,' Ereg said, pointing toward the ground where his sons waited for him. And there stood Fas and San, Haf and Jah, each with deadly passion in their eyes. The elves did not even seem to notice that Naj was no longer among them.

'We can never repay you for this, Ereg of Sparka,' Agonas said, his voice filled with gratitude. 'Faithful are the dwarves.'

'That l'be see't,' Ereg said gruffly.

The Beast and the Bargain

Not long after Agonas stepped out onto the solid ground, Ereg sent San up to the other prison to rescue Xan and Gheshtick. The dwarves were uneasy as they waited, fearful that a greater force might soon appear. The fire they had started would keep other warriors away from the forest, they hoped. A blazing Dragon-thorn is not a thing to trifle with. Agonas felt a moment of sadness when he saw the bloodied body of Robern lying upon the ground beside the tree. 'So it must be,' he said. 'So I have chosen, and so you have chosen in me, and so it has been chosen for us.' He was not altogether unlike his brother, he thought bitterly.

The dwarves led the elves swiftly through the forest, leading them through wild brush and over streams with great haste. At first the elves seemed unable to walk or run, since they had grown so accustomed to the swaying treetops. But after nearly an hour of running and jogging, their steadiness seemed to return to them.

They came suddenly upon a small cave that led underneath the roots of a great Dragon-thorn. The dwarves drove them on into the darkness, helping them keep their feet when they stumbled and pushing them forward when they pleaded for rest. At last they emerged from the cave and realized that they had crossed a large river - the name they did not know - and had come to the northwestern border of LofBrusht.

'From here 'tis a two week journey to Mount Sodeppa, where Drake'Ya yet slumbers,' Ereg informed them.

'Then bring us to the Monster,' Agonas said with an even tone.

Much to his surprise, Ereg replied by saying, 'We l'see. Tomorrow night we l'take council.'

'Why not tonight?' Agonas asked with the frustration apparent in his voice.

'We l'not rest until we know t' Sesana l'not follow. By tomorrow we l'be beyond their grasp.'

When the appointed evening came, the elves and the dwarves, such as remained, gathered around a great fire to speak of their mission. Ereg meant to begin his speech with a harsh complaint about the death of his son, and how it was to avoid such a thing that he had agreed to be their guide. But before he said anything, Gheshtick took him aside by the arm and asked, 'Where is the youngest one? Where is Naj, the archer?' It was clear that the sadness in his face was also in his heart. He alone had noticed that Naj was missing, but he had assumed they would meet up with him ere they continued on toward the mountain. Ereg said nothing, but simply inhaled slowly with his eyes shut, swallowing his pain as was the custom in Sparka.

'Many hardships we suffer't,' Ereg began, taking on a much calmer tone than he otherwise would have used. 'All for your sake. We have no hatred or love for t' Drake'Ya, and would not risk anything t' slay him. This is your quest. You set your wages - t' life of my youngest son. You set t' wages; we pay't t' price. Naj, golem-bane and slayer of many Gargantan, kill't by t' warriors of Fist and Antfister.'

'The warriors of who?' Zefru blurted out with confusion. 'What have we to do with them?'

Gheshtick hissed at him to be silent, and said, 'We honor his death, master Ereg, and we will carry the report of his accomplishments wherever we set foot.'

Ereg nodded and then continued, 'We earn't our reward. We owe nothing.' He spoke this last word swiftly and sharply.

'That is fair,' Agonas said flatly, though his face revealed his anxiety at the way the dwarf was speaking.

'We l'bring you t' Drake'Ya,' Ereg continued, now speaking as slowly and clearly as possible, 'we l'set all our might against him. But we demand greater reward than t' return of your captive.'

'What do you desire?' Agonas asked, growing more and more nervous as the dwarf continued.

'You l'bring us - every last man, woman and child of Sparka, t' Far North. We l'not be servants or thralls to man; we l'be given a place.'

'I swear it,' Agonas said without hesitation, though inwardly he felt anxious about whether or not he could truly give them such a prize.

'I will see to it that this is done,' Gheshtick said firmly, both to comfort Ereg and to hold Agonas to his word.

'May I ask, why?' Xan said, opening his mouth for the first time since the council began. 'Why would you want to go to the North? What of Sparka?'

'Sparka is people,' San said. 'Our land lies beneath our feet.'

'How will this be arranged?' Agonas said, thinking practically.

'That is not our responsibility,' Ereg said.

'Very well,' Agonas said, accepting that it would be his task to arrange for their transport in some way.

'What of the other people of Sparka?' Xan said, still not satisfied by San's vague answer. 'Are they willing to leave their homeland? Why would you depart from Kharku so suddenly?'

Ereg sighed, obviously unwilling to explain himself any further. Nevertheless, he said, 'The Jee'Nai have spoken.'

Xan's expression seemed to freeze upon his face. He shook his head and leaned back, his face vanishing from the warm glow of the firelight. He no longer seemed interested in the answer.

'For two years,' Ereg explained, 'we listen't t' words of t' Jee'Nai - t' Elementals. We learn't from Fuehar of t' fire, from Ocreov of t' water, and from Eleshi of t' wind - all speak what t' Earth speaks: War l'come t' west, and Sparka l'not survive it. If we do not depart from Kharku we l'be drawn into t' destruction of Turg, and our people l'be scatter't. T' people of Sparka believe us, and their hopes rest upon us.'

'You have returned to Sparka?' Xan asked, his face suddenly appearing out of the darkness. 'Did you have any news of Thure?'

'Mm,' Ereg grunted truthfully. All of the Elementals had confirmed that some great evil had befallen the Coastmen; but that was no longer, properly speaking, news. Xan would learn soon enough what had befallen his home and his kin. Or, if he were fortunate, he would be slain by the Monster and never need to feel any of the sorrow. 'We return't t' take council with Kuhaf'Da and t' elders. We stay't only two nights, and then returned t' south.'

Zefru thought for a moment before saying, 'But where have you been for all these months? How long have we been in that prison?'

'Two years,' Ereg answered.

'And you returned to Sparka for so short a time?' Zefru marveled. 'If I were in your place I would have abandoned us and went home in peace.'

'We are not free t' do so,' Ereg said. 'We l'not ignore t' words of Elementals.'

'We will bring you to Bel Albor,' Agonas said. 'But now, what of the Beast? Have you any further knowledge concerning his whereabouts? Do you have any idea how he might be slain?'

'We watch't him for a year and a month,' Ereg said. 'And we have carried many weapons from Sparka for t' battle.'

'Is there no way to take him in slumber?' Zefru said, thinking like the thief he was at heart.

'When you see him,' Ereg said, you l'understand.'

Upon Sodeppa

For the next two weeks the elves and dwarves traveled westward, making their way slowly over the foothills of the great mountain range at the center of Kharku. The dwarves were somber and serious, as the region was close to the place all dwarves considered their birthplace - the Deplunds, or the Deeps of Kharka.

This name refers to an enormous system of caverns and caves, underground cities and hidden valleys where the ancient dwarves hid from the rampages of Thaeton the Dragon. Now these lands were overrun by beasts and goblins, and the caves were too massive for any dwarf to hope for a return. Nature had reclaimed them, and the dwarves had no choice but to accept it.

This resignation was considered a sort of coming of age among the dwarves. When a child reached the age of seventeen he was told the history, such as the dwarves recall it, of the Dragon Wars, and how so many thousands of golem-riders perished in the war that drove the Dragon from Kharku forever (some of these stories even credited the dwarves with the raising of the Dragon-thorn pine forest). The natural reaction to this sad tale, of course, would be anger at the thought that the Deplund was lost to the dwarves. But the dwarves are a hardy race of people, and if they could accept this ill turn of Fate, they could accept just about anything else, and endure just about any insult or injury without whimpering.

Just about a week before Lord Pelas and his fleet disembarked from Grenost to chase the Thunder Snake for the second and final time, Agonas and his party came at last to the foothills of Sodeppa, and there they beheld the great Beast of the Earth - the Drake'Ya.

They saw the beast, but they did not comprehend it. To their eyes the mountain looked like any other mountain. A thick covering of snow lay upon its peak, and it was covered with rocks and trees, bushes and streams. At first Agonas thought the dwarves had misled him, bringing him to the place of some deity or Elemental spirit, and not to a real monster.

The dwarves led them along a steep trail up the eastern slope of the mountain. The terrain grew harder as they went, until at last the land seemed to flatten out and begin a more gentle rise toward the top of the mountain. The elves were surprised to find twelve more dwarf warriors, busy at work, hammering iron, felling trees and breaking rocks.

'Where is the beast?' Zefru said confusedly, voicing the question the other elves dared not ask.

'Has he awoken already?' Agonas asked, hoping that the whole endeavor had not been in vain.

'You stand upon his back,' Ereg said firmly. Suddenly, almost as if to confirm what he had said, the whole land trembled and the elves felt the ground rise gently, shaking the trees and rocks as it ascended. This continued for nearly a full minute before the land finally began to quietly settle back to its former state.

'He breathes,' one of the dwarves said, putting down his hammer and approaching the others.

'Ereg,' he said in greeting.

'Yahaf,' Ereg responded.

Yahaf was a white-bearded dwarf dressed in thick leather armor. He looked much older than Ereg, but he did not show any signs of weariness or senility. 'Adapnan?' he asked, looking at the elves one by one.

Ereg nodded.

'All prepare't,' Yahaf said, lifting one shoulder in the direction of the mountaintop. Ereg then surveyed the hillside, looking carefully at all that the dwarves had done. When the elves followed him over to where the other dwarves were working they were shocked to see a series of tunnels dug into the snow covered rock, and great chains rising from below as if the dwarves meant to chain the mountain itself.

'Drake'Ya l'be held in place,' Ereg explained, adding for their sake, 'for only a short while.' If he were speaking to dwarves he would not have needed to say that last part - the dwarves would never be so foolish as to think that chains would hold the Beast for longer than a few moments. But men and elves, he had noticed, were not very good at such calculations.

'When he wakes,' Ereg continued, 'We l'snare his jaw, and bind him to the mountain.'

'Then what?' Agonas said after the dwarf paused.

Ereg sighed and looked down the mountain toward the eastern foothills. 'Then we l'see what the Jee'Nai have plan't for us.'

'Can we kill it?' Agonas said.

'I do not know,' Ereg said. 'and the Jee'Nai would not say whether it was possible.'

'Why should they withhold this from you? Do they wish to see us trampled for naught in a hopeless battle?' Agonas could not hide his frustration. It had always seemed to him that prophets and oracles, for all their foresight, never seemed to have sense enough to speak plainly, or to speak the entire truth.

'Jee'Nai always speak, and speak all,' Ereg answered. 'But there are some things which no man has the skill to hear. The battle l'be difficult, and your path narrow; therefore the words of the Jee'Nai are difficult and narrow. I cannot understand them. I try't for many months.'

This seemed to satisfy Agonas. 'Then for all their wisdom we must cast lots all the same.'

'How shall we slay it?' Xan asked, looking down at the chains. 'And... where is it?'

'Follow,' Ereg commanded, leading the party westward up the mountain. As they drew near a pair of young dwarves, each with blonde hair and braided beards, they saw another great chain fastened around the rocks of the earth it seemed. But nearby they saw a small crevice in the rock, no larger than the girth of a man's head.

'Is this,' Xan asked in astonishment, 'From whence he breathes?'

'Tis,' Ereg affirmed.

'Why don't we just stop it up, and suffocate the devil?' Zefru asked.

'I'm not sure that would be a good course of action,' Gheshtick said thoughtfully. 'The panic that comes over a choking man is terrible enough. But the Drake'Ya - he will rend these chains and this mountain asunder.'

Ereg nodded. Perhaps not all elves were as foolish as he thought. Gheshtick, at least, seemed to have some sense of the workings of the world. 'His throat, just behind his jawbone, is tender, and can be pierced with dwarf-steel. When he wakes, we must strike and strike hard.'

'What if it is not enough?' Agonas asked.

'We l'perish.'

'How shall we wake him?' Agonas asked.

'He l'wake in three days,' Ereg answered. 'T' Jee'Nai say't so.'

The Beast Awakens

Just before dawn on the third day the elves and dwarves were awakened by a tremendous crash. The whole mountain seemed to have sprung to life, and everything in their small camp was shaking wildly. They quickly rushed from their tents and donned their weapons and armor. Ereg came over to Agonas and handed him a small bundle. 'What is this?' he asked curiously.

'Tis dwarf-made,' Ereg answered, turning to shout commands to the other dwarves. Agonas unwrapped the bundle and drew out a long sword, equal in every way to the one he had lost to the Sesana. The other elves were likewise armed; each being given a sword and what armor they thought would be necessary. They did not wear any plate-mail or anything overly constricting. Any blow from the Beast would be fatal enough, regardless of armor. They might as well retain their mobility.

Zefru refused to take any armor, and traded his sword for a long dagger, saying, 'I am not a warrior - I am as likely to drive it through my own leg as I am to put a hole in the Monster.'

Their camp was just west of where Ereg insisted the beast's head was buried. They wanted to be close to his head so that they could reach him quickly when he roused.

When they were all armed and prepared, Ereg led the whole band, seventeen dwarves and four elves, toward the rising sun.

Just when the light sprung over the horizon in all of its blinding brilliance, sending piercing spears of light into their sleep-heavy eyes, they heard a thunderous sound. The whole mountain shook once more, this time as violently as an earthquake. All but Zefru fell to their knees or stumbled onto their faces as the whole eastern face of the mountain broke apart. The rocks and trees that stood upon the mountain seemed to rise up of their own accord and the snow dropped from the rising mound in great heaps. Trees whose roots had grown as thick as a man slid off the great mass as though they were twigs in a stream and even older trees, some thrice the girth of a Gargantan, cracked and splintered as if they were made of paper as the Beast shook off the bulk that had accrued atop his back in the many long years of his rest. When the dwarves and elves regained their footing they saw him at last, a great hulking Monster, five times longer than the distance the greatest elf hero could toss a stone.

The creature's long legs were like towers, casting dark shadows over the warriors. The Beast's toes ended in claws that were twice the length of a horseman's spearhead. These now dug deep into the rocks and stones below as the Monster tested its newly awoken might. Amidst two massive shoulders hung a head like a lizard's on a long, thick neck. The creature had an enormous snout with a thick lower jaw and a great bony crest atop its head. It's eyes were sharp and filled with cunning. The entire creature was covered with thick scaly armor.

Dumbfounded, the elves and dwarves alike stood motionless as the Beast surveyed the ruined mountainside upon which it had slumbered for so many years. After a short time the Beast's eye fixed its gaze upon Agonas and his companions. For a moment it viewed them curiously, but almost as though it saw in Agonas' own eyes the intentions of this band of fighters, the Beast snarled, splitting the air with its thunderous voice. Fear seized the party, and none of them moved - the Beast was prepared to devour and trample them all. But as it started forward its back legs caught upon the chains and then its hands, and the entire bulk of the creature toppled, breaking the chains, but losing its balance. It split the mountainside into shattered pieces as it fell, breaking rocks and trees beneath it as though they were dry grass and dirt.

As the dust cleared they saw that the Monster lay upon the ground in a daze, its enormous body struggling against its remaining chains.

'Jah'Ereg! Now!' Ereg called out in a fury.

His son lost no time, charging forward with huge javelin to the back of which was fastened an enormous chain. Haf and Fas ran behind him, each helping bear the weight of the chain as their brother made his throw. The spear flew into the air and the chain sang as it followed, each link clinking against the next as it straightened out. The throw was a good one, and the javelin pierced the Monster's nostril. When the monster recoiled, Jah pulled the chain tight, his brothers and the other dwarves grabbing the chain and lending their strength to his own. The javelin pulled tight against the Monster, fixing itself to its head. The other chains that had been placed about the Beast's neck were now pulled taut, bringing the Beast's head low enough for the elves to strike at its throat.

Agonas charged forward, his sword prepared for the deathblow. But as soon as he came within ten paces of the Beast's face it turned suddenly, dragging the dwarves to the ground as it yanked against the chain to look at its attacker. The intelligent and hateful gaze seemed to turn Agonas' blood to ice. He stopped where he stood and could not move. In an instant the Drake'Ya lunged toward him, its jaws opened wide to receive him. But Xan pushed him aside, the two of them rolling away from the creature's mouth.

'Kill!' Ereg shouted, as if the elves needed any such command. Gheshtick rushed forward and took a swing at the Monster, but the great beast was surprisingly agile, quickly pulling its great head backwards, both dodging the blow and preparing a strike of its own. Were it not for Zefru's dagger, which he cast deep into the Beast's throat, and the renewed efforts of the dwarves to restrain him, the Beast would have made an end of Gheshtick that very moment. But his jaws clenched tight nearly a foot from Gheshtick's face. This, of course, was closer than anyone would wish to be to this monstrosity. All he could do was fall back in a faint upon the ground, helpless against the monster's next blow. Fortunately for him, however, the Beast was stunned by Zefru's attack, and did not make a second attempt upon his life. In its confusion, the Beast once again pulled at its bonds, until it broke free from all of its chains.

'Kill!' Ereg shouted again, as the Beast prepared to lift its head out of their reach.

Agonas rushed forward and leaped atop the creature's snout, thrusting his sword deep into the side of its head.

The Monster thrust its neck back, hurling Agonas from its head to roll senselessly down its back. His body rolled to a stop when it struck a great boulder that yet lay upon the creature. The Monster then lifted its head, no longer constrained by its chains, lifting all seventeen of the dwarves from the ground as they clung desperately to the chain. Yahaf was at the bottom of this strange hanging spectacle, and quickly released his grip, landing gently on the ground. Some of the others followed suit, but those that remained were scattered into the air when the Beast shook the chain violently, sending them flying in every direction. Three of the Sparkans fell from the mountain and were broken to death upon the rocks. San's ankle was broken when he fell, and he did no more during the battle. Jah and Haf fell to the ground in front of the Beast, landing upon the smaller branches of a fallen tree. Ereg and Fas were thrown up over the Monster's head, landing upon his enormous shoulder. The other dwarves fell to the ground like scattered drops of rain, some injuring themselves, but most of the others coming to land upon the ground without great harm.

Yahaf quickly helped pull the others from the ground and gathered the dwarves together. The Beast stepped forward, each stride the length of a tree's height. He lifted his head and struck down toward the dwarves with deadly speed, his mouth gaping to swallow and devour them. But Haf rushed in front of him and stood with his great shield barring the way.

The Monster plowed into the shield, and Haf's feet were pushed sliding back. The Monster pushed forward, his great bulk forcing Haf to rush backwards.

The Beast lifted his head again, preparing to strike at the shield with all of his might. Haf filled his lungs with air, and swallowed his terror. But as the Beast lunged forward, Jah cast his long spear over his brother's shoulder into the Beast's mouth, where it sunk deep into its flesh. The Monster roared and lifted up onto its hind legs.

For nearly a minute it seemed as though the Beast did nothing more than rise up into the air, its front legs flailing in anger and pain. When it came down again the force of its fall shattered the mountain to pieces, sending dwarves, elves, rocks and trees flying in every direction. It stopped for a moment to survey the devastation and to see if any of its foes remained. But as it paused to look, an arrow flew straight and true from Xan's bow into the creature's left eye. The creature recoiled in terror and pain, turning from them to flee.

'Kill it!' Xan cried desperately, not knowing whether any of the others yet breathed. But he realized in that instant that the monster would trample all of Kharku in its rage before it once again calmed enough to lay down and sleep. 'What have we done?' he asked himself, his face pale in horror. 'This is too great for us! We have destroyed Kharku itself!'

The Beast turned toward the east and lumbered off slowly down the mountainside. I say 'slowly' only because the monster's steps were not rapid in the proper sense of the word. But his strides were so long that he covered more distance and covered it faster than any other creature could hope to manage. Before long he was well beyond any of the dwarves and elves on Mount Sodeppa. 'He is beyond us now,' Xan said as he began to look among the wreckage for survivors. 'And nothing can save Kharku from his wrath.'

Ereg awoke to see a bright sun above him surrounded by a clear blue sky. He shook himself and rose, not sure of his surroundings. He saw that he was standing atop the mountain, but he could recognize nothing. He sat down quickly, thinking that he must be dizzy from his fall. But as he looked around him he realized that it was not his head that spun, rather, it was the movement of the mountain itself that was making everything around it fly past his sight.

He was atop the Drake'Ya and the monster was on a rampage. He quickly climbed higher, trying to get some sense of where he stood. He was standing just below the Monster's shoulders, slightly to the right. On his left he could see the immense ridges of the creature's spine rising high above him. He followed these toward the Beast's head, coming at last to look over the Monster's shoulders at what lay before him. In the distance he could see a great city - Sesno, no doubt. The Monster had been driven from that city before, when thousands of men withstood him. But still more times he had leveled it, forcing the survivors of the Sesana to rebuild the whole habitation anew. This time the Beast was in a fury, and there would be no turning away his wrath.

'It l'flatten Sesno,' a voice said from his left. There, seated calmly atop the monster's neck was his son Fas. Ereg came and stood beside him, quietly watching the gentle rising and falling of the monster's body as it lumbered on in anger.

'Peaceful here,' Ereg said, noticing how quiet everything seemed from their vantage point. Beneath the monster the ground quaked and rumbled, but very little of that carnage seemed to affect the Beast himself.

'I am sorry about Naj'Ereg, father,' Fas said, and Ereg noticed that he had tears in his eyes. It was not like dwarves to apologize. If a dwarf acted wrongly, his repentance was assumed. So long as he did not persist in his errors, there was no need for him to say anything more about it. This strange behavior could only mean that Fas now meant to die.

Ereg watched as Fas handled his great axe, contemplating how he might make an end of the Monster. 'Mm,' Ereg grunted. 'You must bring the dwarves North, and make the name of Sparka great in a new land.'

'No!' Fas said, his anger rising. 'I l'do this for Naj'Ereg. I l'trade my life for his glory.'

Ereg struck him, and for a moment a rage and a madness came over his son's face. But he swallowed his anger, and nodded, wiping the tears from his face.

'Bring dwarves glory in t' North, and tell of Naj's last battle in every city. He return't to Jee, and wherever you go, he l'go also. Honor him this way. I l'slay t' Drake'Ya.'

They did not need to speak of it, for both of them understood that to slay the beast they would need to climb beneath his neck and cut his throat. But whoever did so would undoubtedly be slain in the panic that would precede the Monster's death.

'The Elementals say't t' me,' Ereg said, 'that I l'save either Sparka or my own sons, but that I could not save both. But now I see; it is only so long as I survive Drake'Ya's wrath. I know now how t' save both.'

'Mm!' Fas said, shaking his head.

'Bring Sparka to glory, Fas'Ereg! You are my son!' Ereg loosened his sword in its sheath and took hold of the Monster's scaly flesh, slowly climbing down the front of its shoulders.

'Father!' Fas shouted in horror as he watched him vanish beneath the creature's neck.

Ereg's grip was sure and his steps were careful as he made his way under the Monster's neck. He drew the Skatos and with one careful swipe he cut open a gaping wound in the Monster's flesh, pouring down black blood in a shower upon the earth below. The monster stumbled in horror and shock, turning in every direction as if to find some way to stop what the dwarf had done to him. Ereg struck again, widening the wound and pouring out blood in a great waterfall from the Monster's throat.

The Beast of the Earth soon stumbled and fell, landing in a ruinous heap upon the ground, just a league from the gates of Sesno.

'Ereg!' Fas shouted in a mad panic when the monster fell. When the perishing mass had finally come to a halt he took his great axe and slashed ferociously at the Beast's neck until he had broken through the Monster's thick scaly armor and severed its head from its body. By the time the dust had cleared he was already digging through the gore of the monster's ruin to find his father's body.

Soon he was joined by Agonas, who had awakened just in time to see Ereg vanish beneath the monster's throat. Without a word he began digging as well, not sure what the other dwarf expected to find.

In the end they found only the sword - the Skatos of Ereg. They did not find Ereg himself.

Their search was halted by the sound of a trumpet that rose up from somewhere in the city. The guards of Sesno had seen the Beast, and had undoubtedly alerted the people of its coming. Now they could see a great host of horsemen riding across the plain toward the Monster's body.

'Curse them!' Agonas spat. He took his sword and cut a great tooth from the Beast's jaw. 'No other creature could have a tooth of this size. This will have to serve as proof,' he said as he wrapped it in cloth torn from his own cloak. 'We must go, master dwarf.'

Fas looked at him with bloodshot eyes and nodded.

To Agonas he looked like a madman.

In Fas' hand he held the Skatos, the blade of which was now stained dark with the black blood of the Drake'Ya – a darkness that would never wash away. He put the sword in his belt, and leaned his axe over his shoulder. 'It is time,' he affirmed. 'The Drake'Ya is dead. Sparka do't its work in Kharku. All is changed.'

Turning one last time to face the ruin of the Monster he said, 'Farewell, Father, Ereg Drak-bane!' He swallowed his pain and turned to face the north, where the shattered mountain of Sodeppa lay and where the survivors of his brethren would be waiting.
[Chapter X:  
The Dark Order](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Thure

Xan could do nothing but weep when at last he came within sight of the ruined village of Thure. Every building was burned and every house destroyed. There was nothing remaining. Whoever had attacked did not plunder Thure, however. All their gold and silver, such as they had, remained. But the people themselves lay upon the ground in blackened heaps. When Xan asked the Sparkans about what had happened he was told only that it was the Shadowfolk.

He found no trace whatsoever of his son. Everyone else in the village, with the exception of a few of the smaller children, were accounted for, though some he could not recognize beyond knowing simply that they were too tall or too short to be his son.

'Come with us to the North,' Agonas said. 'The Sesana are now your enemies, and your kin are no more.'

Xan said nothing, however, but returned to Thure and lay down among the charred ruins of his old home and wept for several nights.

In the end he agreed to travel north. There was nothing more he could do or learn in Thure, and with a heavy heart he abandoned his home to start his life anew in the Far North. He bid his village farewell, and turned his attention to the coming journey.

Though Agonas had met with success at an earlier time than his brother, he had no ship at his disposal, and he moreover had the challenge of finding transport for the dwarves into the north as well. There were not many ports in Kharku in those days, and in the end they were forced to sell almost everything that could be gathered from the ruins of Thure and the greater portion of the Sparkans' belongings in order to build and outfit enough ships to carry them all to Bel Albor.

It was not until the first day of Indest in the third year since he had departed from Sunlan that his newly built fleet found its way back to Evnai Port. He did not, however, receive anything like the welcome he expected.

The Dockmaster

The sky was covered with clouds on the night that Agonas returned to Sunlan. All was quiet in Evnai Port as his fleet of ships approached. Every last man, woman and child from Sparka was brought along with them, and promised places of honor in Sunlan. The dwarves, however, would be content with seclusion. So long as they were given a place of their own, and not compelled to live alongside the elves or men of Sunlan they would be pleased.

A ship was sent out to meet them, but when the sailors saw who it was who drew near their faces turned white and their voices were filled with terror. 'Were I an enemy I should have expected no less joy at my coming,' Agonas said coldly. Something was not right in Sunlan.

The sailors allowed them to pass with no trouble, though, and soon Agonas found himself stepping across a wooden plank onto the docks of Evnai. It was a cold and bitter night, with a harsh wind that roared over the city from the sea. The Dockmaster looked at Agonas as though it was he who had brought the chill.

'My lord,' he said fearfully. 'I am, amazed to see that you have returned.'

'Has my brother returned?' Agonas asked flatly, ignoring the other man's trepidation.

'He has,' the man replied with a tremor in his voice. 'Some time ago he has.'

'Is he well?' Agonas asked. 'Has he had good fortune?'

The Dockmaster could not prevent his eyes from darting about; it almost seemed as though he were seeking a way of escape. 'He is well enough,' the man said. 'He brought to Sunlan the jaw of the Thunder Snake nigh on four months ago. It was quite an event, my lord.' The man did not know how he was expected to speak or act. He spoke of Agonas' brother, but it seemed as though a hatred grew in the elf's eyes as he spoke of Pelas' accomplishments.

'Where is he now?' Agonas asked. 'I must speak with him as soon as possible. Is he still master of Evnai's fleets?'

'He is not here,' the man said, stepping backward.

Agonas drew himself closer and looked into the man's eyes carefully. 'What is it that so troubles you? I have returned with great success as well. The Beast of the Earth is dead. I have brought one of his teeth as a token of my success. Now where is my brother?' His tone was demanding, and the Dockmaster could say nothing but the truth. 'He feasts in Sunlan this night,' he answered weakly. 'For in three days he is to wed Indra, the daughter of Ijjan.'

Agonas looked at the man in astonishment. Then a rage boiled over him and he drew his blade. 'Do you think that I know not the parentage of fair Indra of Sunlan? Do you think you need tell me who is her father?' That was not truly the cause of his anger, of course.

'Please, my lord, I meant no offense,' the man begged, staring fearfully at the naked dwarf-wrought sword of Agonas. Approaching behind Agonas the Dockmaster now saw several stunted forms come walking across the wooden plank. If one had thought that the terrified Dockmaster could not have been more afraid, they would have been proven wrong when he saw the stream of Sparkan warriors disembarking from the ship.

'Fas'Ereg,' Agonas said to the first of them, 'are your warriors strong?'

'They are,' Fas answered, balancing his great axe over his shoulder.

'Dockmaster,' Agonas said, turning his attention to the cowering man before him. 'I have a message to give to all of Sunlan. I bring news; if you value your life you will spread it to every corner and every valley of Sunlan at once. Send your fastest riders. Let them ride their beasts to death if they must, but by all means send word to the people of Sunlan that the throne of Parganas is empty in Alwan.'

'What do you mean? I do not understand,' the Dockmaster said confusedly.

'It is not for you to understand,' Agonas answered sharply, 'Send the message at once.'

At these words the Dockmaster turned and fled.

The Dark Order

Riders were sent out to every corner of Sunlan, and to every high elf, but only those who had been chosen by Agonas knew the meaning of this strange message. When Pelas heard the news, he was greatly confused. He thought it was more likely a baseless rumor than truth, however. But to Dalta and Thuruvis in Centan, they knew it at once to be the Dark Order, which, when given, signified that the time to overthrow Sunlan was upon them.

Among the High Elves only Falruvis, Bralohi, Cheru, Oblis and Ginat were left without understanding. All of the others knew at once that the time had come to fulfill the purpose for which they had long ago forsaken the Kingdom of Ilvas. Even Sol and Kolohi were prepared to do as Agonas had commanded. Though they were faithful to Pelas, they considered their actions to be for his sake, since it was long ago established that Pelas would come to the throne.

The Dark Order was, in truth, a desperate plan, and one that Agonas reserved only for the most hopeless of moments. In his mind it would serve at the very most as a final blow against his enemies, a blow of spite and not a blow for victory. It would leave him a legacy of infamy, but he did not truly think that it would bring him the throne.

But the coming of the Sparkans changed all of that, and under the cover of darkness the dwarf warriors, each armed with weapons of great might and armor unbreakable, marched through Evnai and made their way swiftly over the many leagues between the coast and the city of Centan. By the time they arrived in Centan they were met by an army of men and elves coming from the Nook, the birthplace of the Midthalon River. Centan fell within hours, as it had was besieged from without by many elves and dwarves and also from within by those commanded by Amro and Ghastin.

Dalta, Thuruvis and most of the other high elves were in Sunlan Palace when they received the order, and they prepared their allies at once.

Sol marched down from the northern coast of Sunlan with a great host of mercenaries and elves of Thedua. As soon as Evnai realized what the dwarves and their master Agonas were determined to do they shut their gates and prepared their armies to march west toward Centan. But Sol constrained them, and after a brief siege, the city fell into his hands.

In Sunlan the news came while most of the palace was deep in wine-wrought slumber. The preparations for the marriage of princess Indra involved a great deal of celebration, and celebration always seems to involve a great deal of carelessness. So the guards of Sunlan were not prepared for what came that night. If the attack had come from the west, then their western defenses would have held, as they were ever sober and ready for battle with Alwan. But that the danger would come, not only from the east, but from within the palace walls was something they never expected. The long years that the elves of Ilvas served them had brought many of them into important positions both in the military and even in the palace guard.

On the last night of Fuehas, Lord Pelas went to bed full and drunk, slumbering peacefully as he dreamed of the day that would come. But some hours before the dawn he awoke, frightened to hear, not the sound of bells and trumpets, but of horns and clashing steel.

The Throne of Sunlan

Pelas dressed quickly and took his sword in his hand. The fear that had come over him drove all remnant of drunkenness from his body. He gently pushed open the door to his bedroom and looked about the palace halls. He had dwelt in Sunlan Palace for several months now, as the preparations for his wedding were being made. Ijjan seemed eager to marry him to Indra, thinking it would make his loyalty run all the deeper.

There was neither sound nor soul to be found in the halls as he made his way toward the Main Hall of the Palace. Here and there he saw dead palace guards lying in pools of blood, seemingly slain before they were given warning. None of them had so much as drawn their swords ere Death took them.

Every torch in the palace was lit, but there did not seem to be anyone in the halls. He turned aside and pushed open the door to one of the guest rooms. There, lying in a pool of blood, was one of the Sunlan nobility - a man whose name Pelas could not recall. 'Is this the work of Parganas?' Pelas asked in horror. 'Has he come for the throne himself?' He quietly shut the door, leaving the man in his sad condition. He walked upon his toes, silently making his way to the throne room of Sunlan. 'Where are all of the guards? How could this happen?'

For a moment he thought that Parganas had really come to Sunlan. When he pushed open the doors to the throne room he saw, much to his horror, a dark and powerful man seated upon the throne where the fair and noble Ijjan normally reclined. To his yet sleep encumbered eyes it truly did, for an instant, look like his father Parganas. But as he approached the man's features became clear.

'Agonas?' he said weakly, squinting in the torchlight, his whole body trembling in disbelief. For a moment he was filled with rage to see his brother seated upon the throne. But his amazement and terror were greater than his ambition at that moment.

'I thought you were dead, brother,' Pelas said, the fear threatening to choke his voice.

'And I thought you were dead also, brother,' Agonas said without any change in his expressionless face. 'For when I heard that Pelas was, on the morrow, to wed Indra, the daughter of Ijjan, I knew that it could not be he who had sworn that Indra should be mine.'

'And you swore too,' Pelas said, regaining some of his confidence, 'You swore that the throne and kingdom would belong to me.'

'I swore indeed,' Agonas said. 'But I swore it to my brother Pelas. This oath breaker I know not, nor have I sworn anything to him.'

'But you just called me brother, Agonas!' Pelas protested.

'For the last time, Lord Pelas,' Agonas retorted.

'There is yet time, brother,' Pelas pleaded, not knowing that for him also it was the last time that word would be used in reference to Agonas. 'I am not wed to Indra; she is yours - you can have her.'

'I wish not to HAVE her,' Agonas thundered. 'I loved her - I love her. But now love is quite beyond my grasp. Do you think that she would love the one who slew her father?' As he said it he lifted from from his side the head of Ijjan, King of Sunlan.

'The gods!' Pelas said, his eyes wide with horror. 'What have you done, Agonas!?'

'I have done the will of Lord Parganas, and Sunlan is taken. I have seated myself upon the throne, and by rights the Kingdom of Alwan is mine as well.'

Pelas said nothing, he just stared in amazement at the dead face of his former master. He did not regret that the elf was dead. In his heart he was filled with envy that it was not his hand that clutched the dead king by the hair.

'Be gone from this land, Pelas, son of Aedanla,' Agonas said regally. 'Alwan is yours as promised. Return to your father's house and claim your prize. But Sunlan belongs to me; I have taken it, and I will not share it with an oath breaker.

Pelas then departed from Sunlan, his face covered with tears and his heart burning with rage. The reassurances of his mother returned to his mind in that hour. The rage that swelled up within him pained him beyond all sense or reason, and he then truly began to see himself as a god. A god that would someday visit wrath upon his enemy - upon Agonas. For he was an immortal, after all, and Time itself was a servant to him and not his master.

'If there is not a hell, Agonas,' he swore in that hour, 'then I myself shall create one for you.'

End of Book III
[Book IV:  
The Hidden Wisdom](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)
[Chapter I:  
Candor Proud](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Escape

With a soft thud the young man eased the guard's dead body to the ground. The guard's chain armor made more noise than he would have liked, but at least he was dead; and now nothing stood between the young man and his freedom. Killing the guard was easy; he had been foolish enough to leave behind a small wooden spoon when he last brought food to the dark stone prison cell. A day and a half of working the spoon against the rough cut stone walls had transformed it into a deadly weapon.

Three weeks had gone by in that dark place, but now he was free. Without the iron bars in his way, the young man would have little difficulty escaping.

But before he left the prison there was one thing that he needed to find. The voice of his old teacher echoed in his head as loudly as it would have if the older man were hollering within the stone halls of the dungeon. 'Never, ever, EVER, lose your Book!' he ordered, commanded, impelled and otherwise demanded. 'Not only does it represent your own labors, but it represents secrets that must not fall into the hands of any other people.'

He was not afraid of this latter possibility. The elves of Sunlan would never discover the secrets of the Book. They, despite their longevity, were too impatient for real learning. 'Curses!' the youth hissed to himself as he brushed the dust from his sleeves. He gently rolled the guard onto his back and searched his body for anything useful. He bore a sword, but the young man knew that he would not need it. He found three keys, a mashed chunk of bread - which he took - and ten small bronze coins. 'Better than no coins,' he thought as he rushed out of the cell.

He had been blindfolded when he entered the dungeon, but he thought he could find his way out without too much difficulty. He had counted the number of steps in each hall. 'Thirty steps from the entryway to the cell,' he said, calculating the distance. 'To the left there are scarcely eighteen paces.' He turned sharply to the right and made his way past several empty prison cells, none of which had either window or bed. These were the cells reserved for those who the elves either wished to kill, or for those they wished to interrogate.

It was to this latter end that the young man had been imprisoned.

He had arrived in Sunlan at Evnai port, dressed as a merchant and bearing the seal of Ason, the master of Inklas. But by some trick of fate it was discovered that he had not come to the north in order to buy or to sell. A boy, a human child no more than seven years of age, had tripped in the street as some elf lord was charging through the stone-paved road that leads from the port of Evnai to the western gate of the city, and from then on to Centan. This was the road he himself meant to travel; and so it happened that he stood but six bounds from the boy when the chariot appeared, turning a corner as though the flames of Thaeton the dragon pursued it. Without thinking (and if he had thought about it he never would have done it - for what is such a child to him?) the young man darted after the boy. He leaped through the air and caught the youth by the edge of his shirt, pulling him to safety just as the horses reared back, kicking their startled legs through the air.

The elf was unharmed, except for his pride.

'Fear not, master elf,' the young man had said quickly, 'the child is safe, and your horses are uninjured. It is a good turn for all.'

At the mere suggestion that the life of a human was worth troubling his beasts the elf turned crimson with rage, and leaped from his chariot with his whip in hand. He swung it hard at the false merchant, but the young man dodged his blow easily. In his fury the elf lumbered forward, fully expecting the mortal to repent and drop to his knees in fear. The merchant neither repented nor backed away, however, but stood ready to return the elf's abuse blow for blow - or, as was more likely in this case, to evade every strike and to strike once lethally. The elf seemed to sense this somehow, and fear filled his eyes as he drew closer to the dark young man who had withstood him.

Rather than testing his own strength, however, he summoned guards and ordered the man bound and gagged.

Had it not been for the child - again, why should he care about the child? - he would have cut his own throat that very moment and avoided all of this trouble. But as he saw the awe and gratitude in the child's eyes he could not bring himself to end his own life in that manner - not in front of the boy.

Instead he allowed them to bind him and carry him away blindfolded to the prison of Evnai Port. He might have killed any number of the guards, elvish warriors though they were, before being taken or slain, but then he would be treated like a murderer, and not merely a troublemaker or rabble-rouser. He would have to escape; and it would be all the easier if he did not have elvish blood on his hands.

Thus he found himself the prisoner of the elves in Evnai, and all of his weapons and supplies had been taken from him.

Still making his escape, he came at last to the entryway of the dungeon, where three armed men stood guarding a thick oak door. Each man had a blade sheathed as his side and a short spear propped against the stone floor. He watched them for a moment before acting, but once a plan was formed in his mind he did not hesitate. He rushed to the door and pulled hard at the lock, acting as though he thought it would give under his feeble strength. The two nearest guards made as if to restrain him, thinking he had gone mad. But as soon as they drew near, the prisoner relieved one of the guards of his sword and the other of his head.

'The goddess!' the third guard shouted, fumbling at his side for an ivory horn. The prisoner hurled the sword through the air, severing the strings by which the horn was hung and piercing the man's neck, killing him instantly. The remaining guard fell into a rage and prepared his spear to strike. The prisoner grabbed the spear as it approached and pushed it and the guard past him, tripping his captor as he stumbled past. In an instant his arms were fastened around the guard's neck and he said in a soft but imperious tone, 'Key.'

The guard felt at his waist for a moment, indicating that the keys were in his pocket. The prisoner removed them and released the man, leaving him with his spear in hand. 'Fool!' the guard shouted, attempting to strike the prisoner once again. But the man dodged and struck fiercely at the shaft of the spear, breaking it in two. The pointed end he took for himself, and then went about unlocking the door as though the other man were no longer there.

'What kind of devil are you?' the guard muttered, looking at the broken end of his spear with amazement.

'I do not know,' the prisoner answered. 'I was not aware that I was a devil at all. You seem to know more than I do about devils, so your opinion would undoubtedly be more certain than my own.'

'Why don't you kill me?' the guard said, his face red with rage and fear at once.

'I will,' the prisoner answered coldly. When the guard made to protest the prisoner shook his head, 'There is no use. There are things in this world that are bigger than you and bigger than me as well. Know at least that you will die for the good of the world. I do not expect that to be much of a comfort to you, of course. But it is true, and I may as well give you the opportunity to understand.' In truth he meant only to calm the man enough to ask him where his belongings were hidden.

'Where can I find my belongings?' the prisoner asked.

'I hope you die of the rot!' the guard cursed.

'I could kill you slowly,' the prisoner said coolly. 'Or I could kill you in an instant, ere you even know what happened. I care not which you choose, but I do want an answer from you.'

'Everything should be in the chest behind the water barrels,' the guard stammered, obviously hoping that his helpfulness would change this strange escapee's mind about killing him.

The prisoner walked over swiftly, trying to avoid showing any signs of anxiety. In truth his mind was racing. In that book was to be found every secret he had been taught and many more that he alone had discovered during his studies. He was fairly confident that he had written it cryptically enough that no one but himself would be able to understand it. But fairly confident was not good enough when it came to the secrets of his people.

It did not help that it had been foretold that his family would somehow bring disaster upon their homeland. Could this be the foreseen blunder?

'Who are you?' the guard asked fearfully.

But the prisoner did not answer him. He found his throwing knives and thankfully took them up and placed them into a sack that was hanging from the wall. He found his dark clothing, his Smoker and his Firesling and his Thunderstones. He found a purse filled with gold coins. This did not belong to him, but he took it without hesitation or remorse. He found a few other oddments, but he could not find his book.

'Where is the book?' he asked, trying his best to conceal his anxiety. The last thing he wanted was for the man to think that he could use its location as a means to barter for life.

'I do not know,' the guard said. 'Perhaps the Jailor took it.'

'What is his name?' the prisoner asked flatly. 'And where can he be found?'

'If you release me, I will bring you to him.'

'Tell me only his name,' the prisoner said kindly, 'And I will leave you here in peace.'

'He is an elf. His name is Olihon,' the man blurted out.

'Thank you,' the prisoner said politely. 'I truly mean it, that is very helpful to me and I appreciate it.' Nonetheless he threw one of his knifes into the guards throat, sending him tumbling to the ground as he died in a fit. He walked calmly over to the guard and retrieved his knife, wiping the blade clean upon the man's cloak. He threw the sack with all of his belongings over his shoulder and unlocked the oak door, passing from captivity to freedom. As he left the room with the three dead guards he turned and looked at the last man, whose blood yet poured from his body. He could not tell whether the man was yet clinging to life or not - he would certainly die soon enough. But he said in a calm voice, 'I am Candor Proud, of the Black Adder.'

He was, indeed, descended from the famed Captain Proud, whose actions in ancient times had drawn the attention of the Tower to the elves of Sunlan. The Magi had foretold that Captain Proud's descendants would 'break the Tower asunder', and they were, therefore, quite hated among some of the more powerful families in Lapulia. But whatever anyone thought concerning this prediction, it had also been foretold that from the line of Captain Proud would arise the savior of Lapulia. How both of these things could be true was beyond any interpretation. For what is Lapulia without its Tower? How could one save Lapulia while destroying that which not only gives it its might and security, but its very identity as well? It was largely due to such questions that the Proud family had never seen one of its members raised to the Black Adder. But Candor had exceeded all expectations during his training, and was quickly brought to the Mages to be tested and trained. In the end, the High Mage decided to give him a chance. 'The source of the prophecy has lately come into question,' he explained to the others, 'and I do not think that we should turn down such a candidate without acknowledging that, from time to time at least, even the Seers are simply wrong.'

It was, indeed, to investigate one of these Seers that Candor had come into the north. The Star Seers of Lapulia were but briefly mentioned in the Wars of Weldera. And this was appropriate, since the author of that work knew only what little he could glean about Lapulia from the heir of the Chieftan of the Galvasons, who had studied as a foreigner in Lapulia and from the scout Revere, who was of Lapulian blood, but who had, at the time of their meeting, never been to the Magic City.

It is true enough, however, that the Lapulians kept ones they knew as Star Seers in remote places throughout the world. Understanding that all things are in some manner connected, the Mages of old devised a way to preserve the lives of its sages indefinitely, and set those whom they called Deathless Eyes upon hilltops to study the heavens. The practices and procedures these poor creatures had to endure in order to attain immortality was long ago condemned by the Mages. This is highly significant, of course, since to the Mages very little is forbidden if it would seem somehow to serve the purposes of the Magic City - especially if it serves for its protection and preservation. Certainly nothing has ever served Lapulia more efficiently than the knowledge these Seers have provided for its strategists. Regardless of their utility, the creation of these beings was considered so cruel and wicked that it was forbidden in the ancient years of the world, long before even the elves had been born.

The High Mage who had created them - and who had rendered himself immortal as well - was taken and slain, his body being cast from the very top of the Magic Tower (the most shameful way for a Lapulian to be executed - cast from the heavens to the deeps of the sea). The prudent Mages that succeeded him did not make an end of his cruel, but very, very useful creations: The Star Seers.

Their bodies were so altered that they could stare unblinking at the sun and watch the stars wheel overhead without rest or relief. They had all, in their mortal years, been trained in the highest of all Lapulian sciences, and so they were able to calculate the motions they watched, and to learn precisely what would come to pass in the heavens. In due course, this knowledge extended to the happenings upon the earth, which, though distant from the stars, are not disconnected therefrom. In varying degrees these sorry creatures became adept at predicting what would come to pass even among human civilizations. They could foretell wars, predict storms, discover calamities that had befallen the earth in ages long past and warn of dangers that would come upon Lapulia in ages not yet imagined.

Everything they said was recorded by a scribe (as much as was possible at least) and sent to the Tower for interpretation and study. Alongside the scribe were at least two of the Black Adder, who would guard the Seer from any external dangers. More often than not, however, the scribe himself was one of the Black Adder, along with his guardians, and the three Black Adders would record his sayings in turns. This was, generally speaking, more efficient than having but one scribe (scribes must sleep now and again). Also, speaking generally, the scribes did not quite record everything. From now and again the Star Seers would make jests or simply complain about something that vexed them, or ask for a drink of water. These sorts of things were not generally recorded. If a Star Seer jested too much they ran the risk of angering the Mages.

The Star Seer that dwelt in the northern regions of Bel Albor had angered the Mages in Lapulia. He recently spoke of the fall of Lapulia, and of devils and demons on black leather wings, and of fire raining from the heavens. He spoke also of poisoned air and a great chasm where the Tower stood. After these reports the Mages received nothing further, and so decided to send one of the Black Adder to investigate. If it had been a thousand years earlier they would never have sent a member of the Proud family. But the ancient prophesies about the line of Captain Proud had become so common that the Mages themselves began to look upon them with suspicion - especially since the original foretelling had come from the very Seer in question. It is not uncommon for men to grow careless when it comes to things a former generation feared. It is also not uncommon for men to grow fearful of that which a former generation had grown careless.

Candor Proud stepped out into the busy streets of Evnai. The door he had just opened was apparently not the main entrance, and there were only two guards standing nearby. He opened the door wide and hid himself behind it, pinned between the oak and the stone of the prison. He called out in a booming voice, 'He's escaping - hurry!'

The two guards whirled around in amazement, looking at the open door with wide eyes. They took up their spears and rushed into the prison. As soon as they had entered Candor shut the door behind them. They were only in the room for a moment before they realized what had happened, but by the time they opened the door and looked out into the street Candor had vanished from sight entirely.

The Jailor's House

It was mid-day by the time Candor found his way to Olihon's modest home. The Jailor of Evnai was, in a sense, the most hated figure in all of Sunlan. The port and its commerce drew a great number of mortals seeking work, and so with the mortals came all their evils. The Jailor Olihon was the man charged with overseeing them and making sure that they did not pose any danger to the elves of the city. But it was an unpleasant occupation, and after a century and a half of the work he had fallen in the esteem of the elves. He was lord over all criminals, and servant to all nobles, and he was as unhappy as might be expected. This unhappiness made its way into the prison, which had under his authority become a grim and dismal place. He chose to live somewhat outside of the main city of Evnai so that he would not be troubled by the nobles and not known as the Jailor by the men.

As secretive as he was, however, Candor had little difficulty discovering where he dwelt. There was not a soul in Evnai who did not know his name, and after a short time Candor managed to find a few noble-looking elves who could answer his questions about where the Jailor kept his living quarters.

The small but neatly managed house was empty, however, and Candor found nothing in the man's chests and cupboards. He left the house as quietly as he had entered it, leaving it in such a state that no man could have known that it had been entered. From an old widow who lived a few houses from Olihon he learned that the elf often frequented the Hooked Fish Inn, which was about a half-hour's walk to the northeast along the road. She did not seem to know anything else about the man - she did not seem to think that he was an elf, and she certainly did not know that he was the Jailor.

Candor thanked her for her help and followed the road toward the inn. He managed his outward mood quite well, as he had been trained to do, but deep within him he knew that he would be unsettled until he once again held his book in his hand.

He passed a group of small workshops, places where mortal men labored to earn a living, some by fixing wagons, others by selling fruit or meat. He passed a blacksmith's shop and a tailor before finally coming to a great fountain with a broken statue in the center. Long ago the fountain had run dry, as the river that fed the city its water had altered its course several hundred years earlier. This area of the city was once quite prosperous, and had been a dwelling place of the elves. But when the river left, so also did the elves.

Except Olihon, of course.

Candor scanned over the houses until he saw one building with a weather-beaten sign of a fish with puckered lips preparing to kiss a rather feminine looking hook. He shook his head and entered through the open doorway. There were not many people at the inn. The sun still soared high in the late Spring sky. One drunk man slouched over a table in the corner, another two men played dice at a table near the door, and one sad, solitary man sat in the center of the dining room. He had a bowl of soup in front of him and a half-eaten loaf of bread leaning against an empty mug.

A serving girl smiled brightly at Candor, seeming more happy to see a customer than he thought possible. He took a gold coin from his pack and asked her to bring him two ales.

She happily obliged, disappearing into another room to fetch his request. It was, he thought, undoubtedly the gold in his purse that drove her to serve with such enthusiasm.

He made his way around the dusty wooden tables to the place where the lone man sat, lazily eating his bread and soup. The dice-players were both grey haired, and so could not be of the Deathless. This man, then, was Olihon - unless the Jailor of Evnai was the passed out drunk. In any case, he could not question the drunkard until he awoke.

Since the gold was not his, it was easy to part with. 'Care for a bit of company?' Candor said to the man, beckoning to serving girl with a wave of his hand. The girl cheerily brought the two mugs of ale to the table and set them down, one before Candor and one before the other man.

Olihon, for it was indeed the Jailor, hesitated for a moment before picking up the ale. When he had taken a sip of the ale, however, he seemed to perk up. 'Thank you, stranger, the elf said. 'What brings about this good turn?'

'I've had some fortune,' Candor said with a smile. 'So I thought I might spread a little cheer in Evnai.' He waved his hand across the table as if to indicate his good favor toward all that surrounded him. But as he waved his hand he let fall a pinch of white powder, which slipped into the other man's ale without being noticed.

'That is rare enough these days,' Olihon said grumpily. 'Those who are not dying in the wars are dying of want or boredom in the festering cities of Sunlan. If you think Evnai is in need of cheer, you should hear what they are saying about Centan and about Alwan.'

'Any news of the war?' Candor asked politely. The Lapulians, of course, were aware that a war of some kind or another was being waged in Bel Albor, but it never hurt to get more news. First hand experience was at times a better source than even the wizened Seers.

'There is nothing new about this war,' Olihon said. 'It will go on for as long as the world endures no doubt. But I have heard that nearly the whole region from the Esse to the Swamplands of Thedul is now loyal to Agonas - to Lord Agonas, that is, or to Lord Dalta.'

'That is good news for Sunlan, of course,' Candor said, as though the news was encouraging to him.

'War news is good for no one,' Olihon said.

'That is true enough I suppose, master elf,' Candor said with a laugh, noticing a redness growing in the eyes of the elf. His powder was beginning to take effect. 'Lord Olihon,' he began, 'Tell me about your own line of work. Anything interesting in Evnai's dungeons. You know, I have heard it said that the dungeon has an empty cell reserved for one of the High Elves. Is that true?'

For an instant Olihon seemed taken aback by the mention of his own name. He looked into his ale with a puzzled expression as he tried to recall whether or not he had told this strange young man his name. And now that he thought on it, he could not quite remember whether this kind young man was a stranger at all.

'I'll have some of this soup,' Candor said to the serving girl as she passed by their table. He suddenly remembered that he was hungry. 'And some bread too - better make it two loaves.'

He was not naturally this friendly. But a Black Adder trained almost as much in the arts of deception as in the arts of war - a deadly combination, of course. He could act friendly, even if he could not be friendly.

'There is a room that we call Zefru's hall,' Olihon said after deciding that this young man must be one of the younger guards at the prison - or someone from one of the nearby inns - he could not remember.

'Zefru?' Candor laughed, feigning interest. 'You mean the Dagger of Agonas? Why would there be such a room in Evnai's dungeons?'

'Zefru,' Olihon said, speaking with equal parts admiration and equal parts contempt for the high elf, 'Zefru is as dirty and rotten a thief as ever there was born in Sunlan. Yet he eluded the rulers and guards of Evnai for ages. Everyone knew that he was a thief and a murderer. But no one ever caught him or was able to prove that he did what everyone knew he did. There is a cell set apart for him, but he has never occupied it. Over the years men have donated things - furniture, golden lamp stands, red carpets and the like - and we have furnished the room quite splendidly. Ilun, the man who oversaw the jail before I was given the task, once sent him an invitation, and even promised to bring him an elf-maid as a bride if he would confess and agree to live in the prison. It was a jest, of course; no one expected anything of it. But it was told in every inn throughout Sunlan for a time.'

'That is very interesting indeed,' Candor laughed. 'There must be all kinds of strange things that enter into those guarded cells. Especially seeing as Evnai is a port city.'

'You are a clever fellow,' Olihon said proudly, suddenly seeming ready to tell just about any secret, and tell it happily. 'There was a strange fellow that was brought in by one of the elf lords - some kind of troublemaker.' Olihon paused for a moment and stared at Candor with a puzzled expression. In the end he shook his head, convinced that this kind soul who had bought ale for him could not possibly be their prisoner. 'We would have beat him and released him,' he continued, 'but he was carrying the strangest things!'

'What sort of things?' Candor asked enthusiastically, trying to give Olihon the impression that there would be nothing out of the ordinary in simply shouting out every detail.

'Well, he had some strange - well, I didn't know what it was. He also had these round, iron... things.' Olihon paused and thought, trying to remember what else they had discovered. 'Oh, there were about thirty knives all of different sizes and shapes - battle knives mind you, not the sort of thing you cut a potato with. And... a book.'

'A book?' Candor laughed, spilling his ale as though it had taken him by surprise. 'A book of all things? A book, and thirty knives?'

'Yes, and it was a strange book at that. Full of pictures and words that didn't make a bit of sense. It reminded me of the fables they tell in the north, where the Essenes live.'

'Not them,' Candor said, acting as though he was tired of hearing such things.

'Yep, it was full of gods and goddesses, heroes and beasts. It was like something a child might play, but it was all finely done with beautiful color ink work on the images. I almost wish that I could have kept it myself.'

'Where is it, then?' Candor asked coldly. The powder was in full effect, and he knew that now there was nothing to prevent Olihon from speaking the truth and speaking plainly.

'I sent it to Morarta,' the elf answered. 'I sent it to Eberu and the god-hunters. They are always looking for that sort of thing. I imagine they will want to come and take the prisoner themselves.'

'I have never heard of this Eberu before,' Candor said. 'Does that mean that I am complete fool?'

'No,' Olihon said. 'You only know of Eberu if you are causing trouble for Lord Xanthur. If you have never heard of him, then that is all the better for you. It is better to know nothing about the god-hunters. I have to know them, of course, since I am the Jailor.'

'The god-hunters?' Candor said, feigning fright.

'If you haven't heard of them, then maybe you are a fool,' Olihon said honestly, the powder taking the place of discretion. Candor smiled at the insult, however, since he knew that it was born of his own actions and not from anything within the other man. 'They are Xanthur's men,' Olihon explained. 'And right now Eberu is their chief.'

'And they hunt gods?' Candor asked.

'You can say that, I suppose,' Olihon laughed. 'But it would be better to say that they hunt people. Anyone who teaches something that is a danger to Sunlan or to Ilvas or, I guess, to Alwan, though I don't think the god-hunters have much to do with the western country, owing to the war.'

'They hunt them for their ideas, and not their crimes?' Candor said, curiously. He suddenly realized that his interest had gone off track. He shook his head slightly and asked, 'But what of the book? What interest would Xanthur and his god-hunters have in such a thing? It seems to me that such nonsense would be better set aside for the bath house.'

'That is what I would say too,' the Jailor said, chuckling at the jest, 'but rules are rules. You see, half the rebellions in Alwan, and perhaps all of the rebellions in Sunlan have had some god or goddess or spirit to blame. So Xanthur some time ago decided to keep an eye on all these gods and goddesses. And how does one keep an eye on gods and goddesses? By keeping an eye on their servants. So the god-hunters were born. Xanthur gave them some kind of official term in the courts of Sunlan, but the people know them for what they are.'

'Sounds like a good idea,' Candor said truthfully. 'When gods and goddesses are involved, you can never be too careful.'

'That is true enough,' Olihon said.

The serving girl returned with a steaming bowl of soup and two loaves of bread, which Candor promptly ate, asking questions and making jokes about the state of Sunlan or of Evnai Port. But as he finished he could see that the effects of the powder were beginning to wear off. He pushed back his chair and left several gold coins on the table - enough to pay for both of their meals. He winked at the serving girl and vanished from the inn and from Evnai Port forever.

Lord Folly

As soon as Candor stepped out of the inn the drunk sat up with a start and lumbered from the inn after him, leaving a heaping pile of gold in the place where he had slumbered. The serving girl stared at the gold dumbstruck. As soon as the man was on the street, however, he vanished from mortal sight, his tattered clothing giving way to a bright white robe. Outside he met two others like him; black robed Death and grey clad Sleep. 'Brothers,' Folly said. 'You have seen him!'

'It is truly him?' Sleep asked, raising a bushy grey eyebrow. 'That is truly the man who will serve the light by serving the dark?'

'Have I ever been mistaken before?' Folly asked.

The others paused as they considered.

'Then it is at last being set in motion?' Death asked coldly. 'The unmaking of the Dragon?'

'It has ever been in motion,' Folly replied. 'But it is only now coming into view. He will go to the north, and he will find what he does not seek in the wastes.'

'Then the days of Bel Albor are coming to a close?' Sleep asked with great weariness in his voice.

'They are,' Death said. 'I can feel it in my very hands, which soon will stretch out across this whole land.'

'You almost sound... happy, brother,' Folly observed.

'I am never happy,' he replied coldly, 'but I am never discontented.'

'That is all one can ask for, I suppose,' Folly said with a shrug.

'Was that really necessary?' Sleep asked, looking back toward the inn.

'You mean the gold?' Folly laughed. 'Nothing I ever do is necessary, brother.'
[Chapter II:  
The Vanishing of Futures](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Wedding

'The preparations are finished,' old Nonix said gladly. 'Stratix will be wed in three days, and our two families will be brought closer still.'

'That is good news indeed,' Abbat replied. 'I cannot tell you in words how happy this has made the people of Esluna. To know that your strong blood shall mingle with the mighty blood that is preserved in Giran's daughter is a great comfort to us all. The gods be praised.'

'The gods be praised,' Nonix answered according to their custom. He felt uneasy even as he said it, however. There were too many stories circulating about the god-hunters, and he did not think they should speak such things carelessly. He could not, however, say anything to Abbat, the village elder. He was probably the only person in Esluna that was older than he, and to criticize him in any way would be a dishonor.

'We have hired Janling and his sons to play the lute and flutes,' Nonix said. 'Ubrana is making a stew and her husband is roasting his largest hog.'

'Not Ebor!' Abbat protested, remembering the enormous pig with fondness.

'Well,' Nonix laughed, 'he has not raised him to marry his daughter!'

Abbat laughed, but there was definitely some sadness in his eyes. Abbat had been a butcher by trade before he was selected to be the village elder some twenty years ago. But as time went on he enjoyed killing and eating animals less and less.

'Yes,' Nonix said. 'This is an occasion worthy of Ebor! The garments we have borrowed from Ednat - or, rented I should rather say.' Ednat was probably the wealthiest man in Esluna. He was not unkind or stingy, but he would never lend out his garments without some recompense, even if it was only what little gold old Nonix could spare. 'The woodsmen have given us a great heap of dead wood for the bonfire dance, and there will even be something sweet to serve when all is finished.'

'Sweet?' Abbat said excitedly. There were only a few things that his old tongue still enjoyed. 'What do you have planned, you old fox?' Abbat asked excitedly.

'You shall see when you shall see, my old friend,' Nonix answered, shaking his finger playfully at his friend. 'Just be sure that your bony old fingers cling to life until the wedding, or I shall have to eat your portion.'

'I cannot allow you that pleasure,' Abbat laughed. 'If there will be honey-cakes or berry pies, then I will come whether there is life in my bones or not.' Both men laughed at the jest, and finally Abbat added, 'Truly, though, Nonix, we are all very happy to see this union. Ever since your dear son and his wife died we have mourned for your family, and it will be good to see your line established - and the joining of your kin to that of Giran!? Who could have thought that such a day would come?'

'Thank you, my friend,' Nonix said. 'Truly things have never looked better, either for my own family, or for Esluna.'

'The gods be praised,' old Abbat said joyfully.

'The gods be praised,' Nonix replied, this time sincerely.

Exercises

Stratix was now the headmaster of the Esluna Fighters, a small but well-trained group of armed warriors that served as guards and soldiers for the sake of their small village. In the days of Nonix they had defended the village from an army of Lupith that had crossed the Esse River to pillage and burn northern Sunlan. Esluna was located about ten leagues from the Talon mountains, in a place that the elves seldom visited. In all the wars that followed in the wake of the Great Sundering, they had thus far managed somehow to preserve their way of life and avoid the great motions of war that had swept away so many other peoples. They were, as far as their parentage was concerned, somewhat related to the Lupith, though outside of their ancestry they did not have any other connection to the people west of the Esse River.

Stratix now stood shirtless in the center of a small circle the bounds of which was marked by a length of rope tied to a number of sticks. He was facing a much younger man who wore a tattered white tunic. The young man's body was battered with welts and bruises. Both of them bore long wooden swords. The young man raised his sword an focused hard upon Stratix, unleashing a fury of blows at the older man. Stratix stepped back and with one strike knocked the sword from the youth's hand.

'Aagh!' the young man shouted, clutching his hand to his breast.

'You were looking at my sword again. Concentrate on my eyes, and from that fixed point you will be able to discern all the motions of my hand.'

The young man took up the sword again and fixed his gaze on Stratix' face. This time Stratix attacked first, but the young man dodged and blocked all of his attacks. After the fifth blow Stratix paused and stepped back. 'You see?' he said. The two men bowed at one another, the young man careful to keep his eyes on his opponent. The previous student received a harsh blow to the head when he stared at the ground instead of at his instructor. 'There is honor in Esluna,' Stratix explained, 'but not all of your enemies will follow such rules of conduct.'

When the fight was ended the two men stepped from the ring and another young man handed Stratix a white linen towel. He wiped his face and shoulders and then tossed it over the ring to dry. 'Your darling is here,' the man said.

Stratix seemed to brighten when he heard this news. 'Leai is here?' Stratix.

'Unless you have other darlings,' the man said coldly. 'Are we all done for the day?'

'Yes,' Stratix said. 'I don't think I can put the young men through any more training today. You can go ahead an clean up. And take down the ring as well; we will not need it again until next week.' He, of course, was making his own preparations for the wedding. One of his duties would be to make sure none of the unsightly devises of warfare were visible on the town's common field. A tent would be set up there, and the bonfire dance would take place after midnight. Leai hated warfare and hated even the sight of weapons. She knew that they had their place, and she was as proud as anyone that Stratix was as strong as he was, but she was a gentle soul by nature, and did not like the thought of men fighting one another. Her great affection for Stratix had come upon her suddenly one day when she witnessed this mighty man of the sword breaking up a fight between two enraged men. They would have killed one another, and Stratix risked his own life to bring a resolution to their conflict. He did not even draw his sword. When she saw what he had done she knew at once that he was the man she was going to marry.

He was a bit older than she, and he was all but promised to another woman at the time. But her father was influential enough to arrange a meeting, and she conducted herself with enough grace to draw his affections to herself.

Ten years ago a band of thieves had invaded Esluna and slain a number of their warriors, including Stratix' parents. Nonix and some of the older warriors drove them away, but the wound they inflicted upon the village had not yet healed. There were many young couples marrying now, and many babies being born. The marriage of the village's strongest warrior to one of the most important young maidens was like the cream atop the milk for the villagers, who saw it as a symbol of their return to prosperity.

'My darling,' Leai said as Stratix walked away from the training circle.

'You will make the men lose their respect for me,' he chided, taking one of her long brown curls into his fingers and brushing it behind her ear.

'Nonsense,' she said with a grin, 'when they learn who my father is, and how important a family you are connected to, they will be filled with awe and amazement.'

'You are a somewhat intimidating young woman,' he joked, putting his arm around her shoulders.

She brushed him off with a laugh. 'Not with those sweaty arms!' she protested. He settled for holding her hand instead as they walked away from the common field.

A few days later the wedding came and the people celebrated late into the night. Locked in the embrace of her beloved, Leai felt as though nothing in all the world was out of place. She pushed his strong arms aside for a moment and turned his love-filled eyes toward the north. 'Look!' she said excitedly. 'It is the fires for the bonfire dance!'

'Must we?' Stratix said, desire filling his eyes to overflowing.

'It is all a downhill journey from here, brave Stratix,' she laughed, 'there will come a day when you will long for a good bonfire dance.'

'Alright,' he gave in, 'if we must.'

'We must,' she said without any sign of doubt.

He kissed her once again and then turned to watch the villagers approaching with torches for the great bonfire. But the men carrying the torches were not villagers, and they had not come to light the fire.

They certainly had not come to dance.

The God-Hunters

At first Stratix thought that the screams were exclamations of delight and that the calls were cries of excitement. But there was something shrill in the voices that came down the wind toward their ears. And he saw several people lying upon the ground. It was not unthinkable that some might have become drunk and collapsed, but the disregard the torch-bearers had for the fallen was more than he could believe from his fellow villagers. He thought he saw one of the men step on the hands of a young woman.

The joy that filled him turned to fear in an instant, and as he felt the soft hand of his wife in his palm, trembling, the fear turned to resolve. 'Run!' he said in a soft voice, 'Run!' he shouted immediately after.

'What is happening?' she said, her voice trembling as the truth of the matter dawned upon her own mind as well.

'I do not know, but run!' Stratix commanded her. 'Get out of here! Flee to the river; wait for me near the rock bridge!'

'I won't leave-' she began to protest, but he cut her off.

'Now!'

In his voice there was such iron that she backed away in fear and then turned to run, her dark brown eyes filled with tears as she fled from the common field. Stratix watched for a moment as she vanished into the shadows, making her way to the river. He filled his lungs with air and rushed toward the approaching figures. By the time he reached them there were dozens of bodies on the ground, their white wedding garments stained red with blood. He saw old Abbat and his wife, staring blindly at the stars above, each with deep wounds staining their robes crimson. The young man he had trained that day also lay upon the grass, a short sword in his hand. Beside him lay the bodies of two strangers - he had managed at least to slay two of his attackers. Anger and fury rose up in Stratix' heart and he rushed forward grabbing a thick branch from the woodpile. In a flash he had struck one of the invaders across the face, scattering his broken teeth like rain. The man fell dead with a dull thud upon the grass. He bent down and took up the man's sword.

'Come at me, devils!' he shouted wrathfully. 'Come at me if you are mighty!'

Three men approached, each carrying a long bloodied sword. They seemed to be as angry as he was by the look in their eyes.

'What have they to be angry about?' Stratix asked himself, growing all the more furious. He leaped forward and cut one man's throat before any of them could act. He parried two of their attacks and them disarmed one of the men, cutting several fingers from his right hand. As the man clutched his wound Stratix finished off the other intruder.

The wounded man rose and fled, but Stratix threw the sword after him, its sharp point finding its mark in his back. He took up the other man's blade and cried out for more.

Stratix then fought his way across the field, slaying whomever withstood him until finally he came to the center of the field and saw a man mounted upon a horse with a spear in his hand. 'Why have you done this!?' Stratix shouted, looking around at all of the dead. 'Why!?

The man turned and looked at him, disgust coming over his face. 'What have we ever done to you? How have we wronged you?' Stratix demanded.

The man spat on the ground and heeled his horse to charge, saying nothing in answer to Stratix. He raised his spear and rode hard at Stratix.

Stratix moved aside and slashed, trying to cut the horse's front legs as it passed, but the rider turned aside and thrust the spear downward, piercing Stratix through the stomach.

'No!' he said as he fell to the ground. 'Leai!' he wept, clutching hopelessly at the spear as blackness took him.

As his vision faded he saw and nothing save for the dancing light of the fire as it burned, not the woodpile for the dance, but the village itself, seemingly for no reason whatsoever. 'Why?' he said weakly, passing into the dominion of Death.

The Remnant

Nonix awoke with a start, suddenly realizing that he could not move. Lying atop him were several cold dead bodies, some the bodies of god-hunters, others the bodies of his friends and neighbors. When he opened his eyes he saw the pale face of Abbat's grandson, a boy of only five, looking emptily at the bloodstained grass.

A face suddenly appeared over him and he saw a man throw a torch atop the pile of bodies before vanishing. In a moment the man returned with another torch, but this time as he went to toss it upon the dead, a hand with an iron grip took hold of him. He struggled and whimpered as Nonix pulled him close so that the fire burned his own brown beard.

Nonix summoned up all of his strength and pushed himself from the pile, allowing those who lay atop him to roll lifelessly to the grass. Still he held fast to the man's wrist. 'Help!' the man cried once. But before he could shout again the torch was thrust through his throat.

Another man stood nearby and took up his sword.

Nonix crossed his arms and waited for the other man to reach him. Before the man could strike, Nonix lifted his leg and kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to fold himself over in pain. The next blow came just as suddenly, and the man's neck was broken by a fierce blow from the old man's elbow.

Nonix took up the sword and looked around the field. It was early in the morning still; the sun had not yet appeared over the eastern mountains, though the effects of its bright light were already to be seen throughout the village - throughout what remained of the village at least. Every house was burned to ashes, and only a few structures remained standing. He saw nothing but crows, vultures and the bodies of the dead. There was a horse tied nearby, eyeing the carnage nervously. 'Hello friend,' Nonix said, wincing as his bruised body remembered the hard fight that had taken place last night. He had slain a number of the intruders; he remembered that much. But then everything went black in an instant. He must have been struck on the head, he thought. Instinctively he reached for his scalp, yelping when his finger touched the place where he had been hit.

He unburdened the horse of all the pouches and packs that it bore, quickly searching them for anything useful. Whoever these men were, they had not come with many provisions. They intended to be gone ere they required a meal. 'Morarta,' he said coldly. 'The god-hunters have come.'

He stripped the horse bare and leaped astride, riding the beast bareback toward the south, where he had seen many other villagers flee the night before. But as he rode he became more and more certain that not a soul of them had survived. 'This is what Lord Xanthur considers the best course.' He shook his head. He had seen the elf lord once, when his god-hunters had done much the same to another nearby village. But that village had been sacrificing their own children, and spoke of sacrificing an elf child for the winter feasts. They were dangerous enough to be dealt with in this manner. But what had the people of Esluna done? They had their customs and their traditions, to be sure, but they did not even have sacrifices or rites.

As Nonix made his way south he came to a muddy area, where the land became more difficult for the horse. He turned east and followed the river up toward the mountain where he knew there would be an easier place to cross. The only sound he heard was the caw of the birds on the field and the soft thud of the horse's hooves.

In a short time he passed into the East Forest and followed the river's winding course toward the hills. He continued in this way for about an hour before he finally came to the crossing. A great boulder had fallen onto the river in some ancient age of the world, and eventually the river cut a hole straight through the center of the rock. But the surface of the rock was yet intact, and served as a bridge for careful feet. As he passed the babbling stream, however, he heard another noise added to the thump of hooves and the rushing water. He pulled hard on the horse's reins, slowing the creature to a stop. He dismounted and took his sword in hand. 'Who is there?' he asked.

He heard the sound again. It was the sound of a girl weeping. Beneath the stone, hidden among the the reeds and bushes, was Leai. Her white wedding dress was torn and soaked, and her cheeks were scratched and bloodied. Though he called out to her, she did not move or show any other sign that she had heard him. He stepped into the cold water and called out again, this time reaching his hand out toward her.

She looked up at last, and for a moment she did not recognize him, thinking he was one of the god-hunters.

'It is me, Nonix,' he told her. Come here, come,' he said in a gentle voice. With a shaking arm she reached out and let him guide her out of the stream. He wrapped his cloak around her and helped her mount the horse. As soon as she was atop the beast she slumped forward, her face frozen in agony as she continued to weep.

Nonix did not know how to ask her if she had seen his grandson. Her sorrow said she knew more than he, but still he could not believe that Stratix would have been among the slain. 'You are safe now,' he said to her.

She did not seem to hear him, and if she did she certainly didn't believe him.

'Let's get you warmed up at the very least,' he said quietly, glad that he had found someone else living. For a time thoughts of a desperate assault on Morarta had entered into his mind and he had been of a mind to pursue this course. Having another to care for gave him some small sense of meaning. 'Why should I, one of the oldest in Esluna, have lived in the place of the young men?' he thought bitterly. But he refused to show anything but courage and hopefulness when he spoke to Leai.

He did not want to return to the fields, but he knew that they could not just leave the village in that fallen state. The god-hunters had the right idea, of course, the bodies must be burned or disease could follow. If he did not know that it would mostly be peasants and the poverty stricken who would suffer from a plague, he would have let the bodies rot and let the wind carry their death-scent to every corner of that cursed land - to Morarta, where Xan's god-hunters kept their abode.

When he came to the center of the field he saw his grandson Stratix, no longer a mighty man, lying upon the ground with a spear through his belly. 'Come,' he said to the girl. He knew it would pain her greatly, but she could not avoid it, and he would need her help with the villagers. 'Come!' he said again, this time without any hint of gentleness. 'Say goodbye to your beloved.'

She stumbled off the horse and fell to her knees, crawling and weeping toward the body. Nonix took her by the arm and helped her walk to his side. He gently pulled the spear away and thrust it out of sight, allowing the body to lay flat. All over the grass he saw streaks of blood where the bodies of his enemies had been taken away from the common field to be brought back to Morarta. 'He made them pay for their crimes,' Nonix said, with a pride he knew to be futile.

Leai buried her face in her beloved's breast and wept long into the afternoon.
[Chapter III:  
The Prisoner](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Threats

Taral cracked his knuckles nervously as he was led along the dark passages of Morarta Keep toward Lord Eberu's hall. They had been successful in Esluna, but the cost had been greater than Taral had anticipated. The groom, a man named Stratix, had slain nearly a dozen of the god-hunters, and with one of their own blades.

The servant who led him directed him to a wooden door that stood slightly ajar. Taral pushed it open gently, but the hinges creaked so loudly that he decided it would be better to get it over with and just push the door open quickly.

When he entered the room there were three sets of eyes staring at him. One of them was a dark haired man with a gentle face. The other two he knew by sight. There was an old, gruff looking man with a nasty scar across his face, crossing his nose from cheek to cheek. His name was Lord Eberu, and he commanded the god-hunters. The other man was Deriks, the scribe of Morarta, who recorded the actions of the god-hunters for the masters of Sunlan Palace.

'I am sorry,' Taral said nervously.

'Think nothing of it,' the dark haired man said, rising from his seat. He wore a single black robe tied around his waist with a thick black belt. At his side was a long silver knife, but he bore no other weapons. 'It is not your duty to manage the hinges in Morarta, is it?'

'Uh, no my lord,' he said, assuming that the person he spoke to was his superior. He had no idea who it was, in truth, but the man carried such authority in his gait and such confidence in his voice that Taral could not help but think that in his presence he was nothing.

'Then do not worry. In fact, I think Lord Eberu is ultimately responsible for such things; isn't that right?' he turned and smiled at the Lord of the god-hunters. Eberu nodded, sniffing as he received the rather gentle rebuke. The strange man turned again and looked at Taral with sympathetic eyes. 'I am truly sorry to hear of how many men you lost last night,' he said.

Taral's instinct was to defend himself, thinking that the man was looking for an explanation. But when the man turned to leave, he realized that he truly was unhappy about the loss of men, and not about the loss of soldiers. Just before he left he turned and called to Deriks, 'Come scribe, we have widows to pay, have we not?'

'Yes, my lord,' the scribe said, wiping his mustached face with a cloth and rising from his seat. 'And Lord Eberu,' the man added, 'I will return in a week to speak with our... guest. You may gather what information you can from him in the meanwhile. I imagine that he will be eager to speak by the time I return.'

'Very good, my lord,' Eberu said, returning his attention once again to the roast pork on his plate.

In a moment the strange man and the scribe had left the room, letting the door creak shut once again.

'There is some more under the lid, Taral,' Eberu said with a welcoming voice. The Lord of the god-hunters grumbled under his breath as he passed a plate and fork roughly toward his servant. He was mad about the loss of soldiers, but he had been effectively disarmed by the other man, who took pains to make sure that Taral was not made to feel guilty about what had happened. It was certainly not his place to then turn around and chide him over the dead men.

Taral hungrily served himself a portion of the pork, using his fork to roll a few potatoes off the platter and onto his own plate. 'Here,' Eberu said through a mouthful of food. He passed a pitcher of ale and a mug toward Taral.

'Thank you, my lord,' the man answered, not daring to look straight at Lord Eberu.

After they ate in silence for a time, Eberu sighed and asked, 'Curses, Taral. What happened there? What in Bel Albor happened?'

'There were some trained warriors-' he began nervously.

'To the pit with you, Taral,' Eberu grumbled. 'You are trained warriors, and trained by the elves no less. What happened?'

'They had gods with them, then,' Taral said, letting his anger escape for a moment. 'I don't know except to say that these men knew how to carry a sword better than the elves. Numbers triumphed over skill, in the end. They had warriors, but they were not warriors for the most part. If it was a battle, then we did quite well all things considered.'

'But it wasn't supposed to be a battle, Taral,' Eberu said. 'It was supposed to be a slaughter.'

'I would have preferred a battle, my lord, even if our losses were doubled.' Taral quickly realized he had spoken disrespectfully and added, 'I mean, I don't want to lose any more men, but where is the honor in a slaughter?'

'If you are after honor, Taral,' Eberu said, dropping a bone onto his plate, 'then go to Alwan, where the 'god' Pelas gives out honor like a farmer sowing seed. Here in Sunlan we strive for the Peace.'

'Peace?' Taral asked confusedly. 'How is a slaughter peaceful?'

'Well, think on it Taral,' the old warrior said, almost sounding fatherly for a moment. 'What stops a storm?'

'A storm, my lord?'

'Yes, what brings it to an end?'

'Nothing, my lord. No one can stop a storm,' Taral answered, confused by the strange question.

'No, Taral. Nothing is nothing, how then can it stop a storm?'

Taral said nothing; he took a bite from his potato and looked at Eberu expectantly.

'A storm is stopped by air - by wind, by the very thing in which it consists. But if the wind that stops it were not opposed to it, then the storm would continue forever. The peace comes because there is that which opposes the violence. And in a manner of speaking, the air and wind that makes an end of the storm is, itself, violence. So if we must fight here and now to make a more peaceful age for our children and grandchildren, what is so evil in that? If we must slaughter one village so that the entire kingdom can live, then so be it. You remember what happened in Talclin, don't you? The children all bound in rags until their heads burst, and with knives in their bellies? The gods - nay, the madmen who serve the gods - must be hunted down until there are none left. They must all be put away, so that the Peace may come and endure. From the ancient days until now it has always been gods and their servants fighting for land and wealth. From the immortals and the legends of old Mount Vitiai, to the goddess Evnai who once was worshipped in Sunlan, it is always the same. We are here to put an end to that. Of course some innocents and some gentle folk will suffer in the process, but more will suffer if we withhold our blade. Cut out the poison, I say, and let the body live.'

'I understand, my lord,' Taral said, feeling somewhat encouraged. Nothing could make him feel any better about the men who had perished that day. And even if it was for the best, nothing could take away the screams of the dying that haunted his dreams.

'I do not pretend it is easy, Taral,' Eberu said gently. 'Your own pain is a better sacrifice than any of these fools offer to their gods. For what they give, they give for nothing. But you endure all this sorrow for the sake of your kin and your people, and for the greater glory and honor of Sunlan.'

The Book

Xanthur, as Xan of Thure had come to be known since his coming to Sunlan, followed Deriks down the corridor to a small chamber filled with scrolls and books of various sizes, lengths and colors. He had protested his new name at first, since it effectively stripped him of his heritage and history, but Thure meant nothing to those in Bel Albor, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the masses of men and elves from creating a single name from the two strange words. Thus was Xanthur born, so to speak \- he who would one day lead the Magic Tower itself and the hosts of Lapulia against the high elves in Tel Arie. He who would meet his end outside the walls of Dadron, when the Naming Stone was used by Daruvis to summon an innumerable horde of goblins from the Coronan Mountains. Such is recorded in the Wars of Weldera, however, and I need say no more here.

There was a small fireplace in one corner of the room, and beside it a bucket and shovel. The bucket was filled with ashes, mostly the remains of burned books or parchments. Xanthur insisted upon reading everything that was brought to Morarta, 'Just to be certain that there was nothing profound or rational mixed in with all of the other nonsense.' So far he had learned of a few useful potions that were recorded in the religious writings of certain sects of the Lupith. The Essenes had a better calendar, he discovered, than the elves of Sunlan, and so the alterations were slowly introduced throughout both Sunlan and eventually in Alwan. The summer previously had the habit of gradually beginning earlier and earlier each year, until the calendar was corrected according to what he had discovered in the work of the Essenes.

It was not their God of gods, however, that taught them to watch the stars; what they learned, any of the elves might have learned if only they had been more careful in their observations. When he was finished with a book, he lit the coals and burned it in the fireplace, making an end of the stupidity once and, hopefully, for all. On more than one occasion he was angered to find a book he had burned rewritten, and improved upon. There was once a work on the beginning of the gods that twice came into his possession. He burned it, but several years later the same book appeared again, but this time with all of the bad grammar corrected. The gods, apparently, progress in their studies just as human writers are wont to improve. 'Hopefully it will be better next time I see it,' he had laughed as he threw it into the hot fire.

There was a new book in the room today. He had a long list of books that he was supposed to sort out. Several hundred papers had just been brought in a few weeks earlier. He normally read through a few whenever he was in Morarta, but the great task of studying them for information was reserved for the wintertime, when he would settle in the Keep during the snowfalls and read until his eyes burned.

But he had been told that this new book was something unique.

Olihon, the wretched Jailor of Sunlan, had sent it to the god-hunters because it was filled with pictures of spirits and devils, gods and monsters.

It certainly looked like a religious text. The binding of the book, however, was not like anything he had encountered. It was like leather, but it seemed much stronger, and it was completely smooth on the inside flaps. A strong cord bound the pages in place, carefully woven through each leaf in an exact pattern. The pages of the book, also, were not quite made of paper. They bent and turned like paper, but even a very hard tug did not seem to rip them. Some of the pages stretched a little, but only after his full strength was set to pulling at them. 'You are right,' Xanthur said to the scribe Deriks as he leafed through the book. 'This is beautiful, and unique.'

'I thought you would be interested in seeing it, my lord,' Deriks said. 'Olihon thought so as well.'

'Did he say how he acquired it?' Xanthur asked curiously, holding the book close to his eyes for a better look. The little room was lit by an oil lamp hung from the ceiling. It provided enough light to read by, but it was not like reading by the light of the sun by any means.

'He said they found it on a merchant,' Deriks answered.

'A merchant?' Xanthur asked.

'Some kind of troublemaker, actually,' Deriks said. 'One of the lordling elves got into a fight with him at Evnai Port; he cast him in the dungeon, of course. They found this book among his possessions.' Deriks had come to know Xanthur well enough to understand how the elf viewed the pampered nobles of Sunlan. There were two kinds of nobility among the elves in those days: Those who had helped Agonas come to power, and those who had wept and pleaded for their lives in the wake of his ascent to the throne. Most of the Evnai nobility belonged to this latter class.

'In the port, you say? Was he a prophet or something? Did they find out what his purpose was in Sunlan?'

'No, my lord, they could learn nothing from him. The Jailor said he withstood his tortures like a devil,' Deriks definitely sounded as though he was impressed with this stranger.

Xanthur took a moment to look over the book more carefully.

The text seemed in every way to match the images, it spoke of gods and demons, sprites and spirits, jinn and wisps. The words, however, read almost as though they were, not rhymes in an epic poem, but ingredients or instructions.

'These are gods of Kharku,' Xanthur said with surprise. 'They are worshipped in the Manlands, and somewhat in Sesana. I wonder how this found its way into Sunlan.'

He continued to read for a while, his expression grave at first, then puzzled and then finally with a look bespoke his impending laughter.

'Place the jinn of luck on your tongue,' he read aloud, barely able to contain himself. 'He will rise to the Astral lords. Let him escape the bottle and good luck will come to lie in your oceans.'

The two men laughed heartily. 'The whole book is like this!' Xanthur laughed. There was something about the book, however, that bothered him. It was strong enough to endure a great deal of abuse, it had been made of materials he did not recognize, it was illustrated by a very skilled painter, and the writing was so perfect and neat that its writer must have been extremely well-lettered. Yet it spoke of utter nonsense. 'The cow will lick up the boulders,' Xanthur said, turning ahead a few pages. 'I should very much like to speak with this man if ever I have the opportunity. Send a message to our cheerful Olihon; tell him that this prisoner is to be held until I come to speak with him. In the meanwhile, I think I will take this book to Ilvas when I leave tonight. Sol is there, I believe. And if I am very lucky I will find Kolohi there as well. They are quite learned in the ways and superstitions of the mortals. If they cannot make any sense of it, then... well, I still don't think I have the heart to burn it. This is truly unlike anything I have ever seen before.'

'I will send the message at once, my lord,' Deriks said when the elf stopped laughing.

Xanthur took the book in his arms and carried it through the halls toward the stables, reading as he walked and laughing to himself as he departed from Morarta.

The Prisoner Speaks

Late in the evening Lord Eberu made his way down the corridors of Morarta Keep to the Dark Hall, which led to the dungeons. There were not many cells in Morarta. They were generally reserved for those whom the god-hunters suspected might be innocent, or those who might be able to provide information about other fanatics or so-called prophets. At the moment there was only one man being held there. This was a strange thing indeed; for the man had been sent to him by the Essenes themselves, who were usually the ones being punished by the god-hunters. But they apparently wanted to have nothing to do with this man. They called him a subverter of the peace, and an enemy of both the Essenes and of Sunlan.

He could not, of course, have been an enemy to all of the Essenes. If he was an enemy to all of them then there would be very little danger that he could pose to them. They hated him because there was at that time a great many among them who had begun to follow him. And those who did no longer called themselves Essenes.

His name was Theodysus.

'Now,' Eberu said, taking at a table across from the other man and setting out pen and ink beside a large parchment, 'let us get through all of these things.'

The other man just sat staring at him, scratching the back of his neck with his left hand.

'What is this?' Eberu thundered. 'What has become of your chains?'

'I took them off,' the prisoner answered gently.

'How dare you?' Eberu said.

'Do you wish for me to put them on again? No one commanded me to keep them on,' the prisoner explained.

'Forget it,' Eberu said with confusion, his eyes scanning the room for some kind of utensil or tool by which the other man might have unlocked them. 'I am told that you have been teaching a new god among the Essenes, who have enough gods if you ask me.'

'The Essenes have only one god,' Theodysus answered calmly. 'And even he is not the Truth - not when they speak of him. I do not preach a new god, however.'

Theodysus looked to be somewhere in his late twenties, his features were not unusual, but yet he did not quite look like any particular race of men. He had black hair and a somewhat long beard, which Eberu perceived must have been neatly trimmed before his arrest.

'Then you deny the charges put to us by the Essenes, that you teach a new god?' Eberu asked.

'I do not teach a new god,' he answered.

'That is good, then,' Eberu said, thinking perhaps they might even be able to release this man. 'I have a few more questions, but I think we are getting somewhere. You will also have to answer to my master Xanthur, but if you answer him as you have answered me, I think you will do well.'

'He will not have the opportunity to question me,' the man said flatly.

Eberu looked at him uneasily. He did not want to do anything to harm the man, but if he went on speaking as if he could discern the future, then there would be no help for him. Most of the people who were brought in to Morarta were put to death after their interviews.

'The Essenes also say that you perform wonders and healings. Is this so?' Eberu asked after he had made a few notes on his parchment.

'There are many wonders in this world, and there are many healers, even in the Palace of Sunlan,' Theodysus said.

'That is not exactly an answer, then, is it?' Eberu protested. 'They say that you perform that which is impossible. Do you deny this?'

'I absolutely deny it,' Theodysus said calmly. 'If I could do something, then it would not be impossible.'

'But wonders; do you perform wonders?'

'That depends upon your expectations,' the prisoner replied.

'But do you not heal the sick? They say that your servants find gemstones in the bellies of beasts.'

'Men have found all manner of things in the bellies of animals,' Theodysus replied. 'And as for the sick; is it now a crime to heal a man?'

'But do you heal by wonders and miracles?' Eberu asked, frustrated by the man's evasions.

'What is a wonder? What is a miracle?' Theodysus asked, 'Tell me, then I can answer you honestly.'

Eberu leaned back on his chair and brushed his grey beard with the back of his feather pen. This was not going at all how he expected. Nor was it going as he had hoped after hearing the man's first answer.

'A wonder is something amazing, awe striking and marvelous,' Eberu answered.

'Do not your own histories say that Agonas, lord of Sunlan, is all of these things? Are you then an enemy of Agonas, if you condemn such things?' Theodysus answered.

Eberu nodded, then added, 'A miracle is something that does violence to the order of the world and the laws which govern nature.'

'Do these laws make things occur?' Theodysus asked, 'or are they themselves made from what does occur?'

'What do you mean?' Eberu asked.

'Do you know the laws without watching the way things behave, or do you watch things behave so as to devise the laws? For instance, the laws of the motions of the heavens, are they not derived from the motion of the stars, and not the stars from the laws?'

'I suppose it is the former case,' Eberu admitted.

'Then whatever I do, I cannot go against the laws or the ordained things of nature, for these laws come from our deeds and do not determine them.'

Eberu sniffed loudly, growing more and more angry with this strange man. 'It is said, specifically, that you restored a lame man's legs, so that a man who had been in bed since his childhood rose up and walked. Is this true?'

'If it is true, then why do you not believe that I AM a prophet?' Theodysus asked. 'If not, then why do you keep me in a cell as a deceiver?'

'Then you say that you are a prophet?' Eberu asked thunderously. His skin had grown chill when the other man questioned him.

'I said no such thing,' Theodysus said.

'What you did say,' Eberu grumbled, 'was not what I asked you to say. I asked the question; answer me. Is this true? Did you perform this miracle?'

'I could not have,' Theodysus answered. 'For miracles are impossible.'

'But did you restore a man's legs to him, so that he could rise and work whereas formerly he lay in bed a cripple?'

'I met such a man,' Theodysus answered. 'But it was, by your own admission, no miracle. And I certainly could not have done anything for him, if you speak the truth.'

Eberu shook his head angrily, 'This is why we are so short with our patience for you seers and prophets! You answer every question crookedly, and you are all frauds and liars.'

'Now you are the seer!' Theodysus declared.

'What in the Golden Palace are you talking about?' Eberu said in a rage. 'How dare you accuse the lord of the god-hunters of such a thing?'

'Have you seen me before today?' Theodysus asked, 'and have you seen this man - this cripple who was not made whole?'

'No, I have seen neither you nor the cripple,' Eberu answered.

'How then can you speak on what you haven't seen?' Theodysus answered. 'You have already said that the order of nature is learned from nature and not given as a rule which nature must obey. But then you speak of what you have not seen as though you have given commands to the world which must be obeyed. If I am a prophet, then why shouldn't I heal a crippled man? If you have not seen either me or the cripple, then from what stems your unbelief?'

'I don't believe because people cannot do what you are said to have done!' Eberu shouted.

'But you have already said that you were not there,' Theodysus said, 'and you have said that it is what happens that determines what a man can or cannot do. But this is precisely the thing of which you are ignorant. Your unbelief comes not from the Truth, but from your heart.'

Eberu pushed the table away from him, and took up his parchment and ink. 'I hope for your sake that you have better things to say to my master when he comes to speak with you.'

'He will come to speak with me, but he will not be able to,' Theodysus said, rising from his seat.

'No one can escape from Morarta,' Eberu said harshly.

'On the morrow, you shall say otherwise,' Theodysus said quietly as Eberu slammed the door shut behind him.

When the cell was opened the next morning, their prisoner was gone. Eberu himself had locked the door.
[Chapter IV:  
The War of Peace](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

From the Fall of Sunlan

I have perhaps gotten ahead of myself in my excitement to introduce the great hope of the Nihlion into my tale. But when at last his story is told in full, including those facts which we Lapulians have long concealed, I think the reader will forgive my haste. But I do not think that I should say any more until I have given at least some sense of what had become of Bel Albor in the days following the Great Sundering, when Agonas drove his brother from Sunlan in both shame and glory. Shame because he had broken from his brother, and was sent with nothing back into the west. Glory because the throne of Alwan now belonged to him by right.

Lord Parganas vanished.

That is all that history records concerning his fate. He did not, as so many other elves, meet with death at the hands of his sons. He forsook his throne and disappeared from all history and notice. Some said that he sailed south into Tel Arie or into Kharku and set up a new kingdom. Others said that he went to Vestron in east Olgrost, and vied for power among the other gods in that region.

But there is a tale told among the Knarse sailors of Titalo that, perhaps, gives the best possibility. Among mortal and immortal sailors there are none so bold as the Knarse, and a number of their ship captains claimed to have sailed north through the Frozen Sea to spy out the sunken lands of the north, where Bel Albor used to be. It is said among them that upon a certain sunken mountain peak there is a lone man, an immortal hermit, who is kind to travelers, but who never leaves his abode. His name they do not utter, but the isle upon which he dwells is known among the Knarse as 'Mond fithi', which, when the changes in speech are brought to mind, is very close to saying Mount Vitiai. There perhaps he yet lives, and there perhaps he shall live, until either the ocean claims him or the world is brought to its close.

When Pelas returned he was welcomed by some as their new lord and given all the honors that his father's office required. He was pained to learn that his mother had vanished during his absence – some, though, said she had perished in despair. He never believed this to be true, however. 'She shall dwell within me now,' he said, comforting himself.

Those who refused to acknowledge him gathered together in the north and in the east and marched against Alwan in great force. But the elves of the Swampland supported him, since among his servants was Lohi and his sons, who were well known and well thought of among the elves in the region of Thedua. The enemies of Pelas were broken and scattered, and soon he had control of the whole land from the western wastes where once the kingdom atop Mountain of Vitiai thrived to the Esse River, which then marked the border between Alwan and Sunlan.

The Captain of the Guard Maru was retained, and he was always faithful to Pelas, though he did not always act without questioning his master. 'I did not serve your father without reason or without any remonstrance, and I will not serve you without these either. For I wish to serve,' he said to Pelas when he swore his oaths, 'and sometimes the servant must broaden the perspective of his master through counsel.' Pelas seemed to accept this without protest, and gave Maru a place of honor in the new kingdom.

For nearly two hundred years a fragile peace ruled over Bel Albor, and a great many wonderful things were accomplished. Gold seemed to flow like water in both kingdoms, and the elves grew in strength and power, each contained to their own side of the Esse River. But the mortals of that region had a great deal of commerce along the river, and they did not give much heed to the laws of their distant masters.

This was especially true of the Lupith in eastern Alwan, who for all that time saw not so much as a banner belonging either to Parganas or to Pelas. Some small conflicts between these men and the men of Sunlan drew Agonas' army from its fortresses and war erupted between Sunlan and the mortals of the western Esse.

When Pelas learned that Agonas' soldiers were within his borders he sent Maru and many of the other high elves to withstand them. It is very likely he meant only for them to intimidate the army of Sunlan, but a battle ensued, where the losses on the part of Sunlan were great. The response was a full invasion of the West Esse region, and the claiming of everything between the Esse River and the Thedul River for the kingdom of Sunlan. Nearly all of this fighting, however, was being done by mortals, who were at the heart of the conflict and who formed the greater part of each kingdom's army.

For nearly a hundred years Sunlan held dominion over this region, but in due course the forces of Alwan returned, supposedly in answer to some infraction of those who dwelt in that region. They drove back the armies of Sunlan and reclaimed the land for a generation.

The High Elves of Ilvas

As Sunlan prepared its counterattack, however, Lord Dalta and his servants returned to the northern stronghold of Ilvas and gathered an army of disgruntled men from the contested land. When this army was trained and prepared it poured into the south, pushing away both the army of Alwan and the army of Sunlan. Both Agonas and his brother were enraged at this turn, but the other high elves had agreed amongst themselves that this was the best course, and many of the old servants of Pelas and of Agonas retreated to Ilvas and maintained the peace in the region despite their masters' wishes.

Lord Dalta sent emissaries to both kingdoms, pledging undying and unquestioned allegiance to both. But he called his kingdom the Keeper of Peace, and said that he could not send forth his armies in support of either throne, and that he would only act when one of the kingdoms invaded the land. In this way he effectively established a third kingdom in Bel Albor, and made himself king of Ilvas.

This act by no means ended all the strife. What it did manage, however, was the end of any open warfare between the high elves themselves. 'Too much immortal blood has been spilled,' Dalta argued to the other elves. 'The sons of Parganas will not be contented until only one of them lives in Bel Albor. If we do not acquire some might of our own we will be thrown into the bucket with all the rest of the water, to vanish in this unending conflict. Let us preserve ourselves and the peace of Bel Albor, then, so that there is something left for the elves who have for so long striven for peace and security in these lands.'

Amro and Ghastin were very much of the same mind, and they eventually went to dwell in Ilvas, forsaking the courts of Sunlan altogether. Thuruvis remained with Dalia, the daughter of Dalta and Ele, serving as a captain in Ilvas' armies.

Zefru and Gheshtick were agreed with Dalta's plan, but chose to remain in Sunlan with Agonas. Zefru remained because Agonas was more likely to require as well as reward the sort of deeds he was infamous for committing. One of these deeds was widely believed to be the murder of Lohi in his bed in Alwan Palace. There was, of course, no proof that it was Zefru who had done it, but the act was so bold and so skillfully accomplished that the name of Zefru naturally came to Pelas' mind. Gheshtick remained as Agonas' chief counselor and ruled over all of the economic matters of Sunlan.

In Alwan Bralohi remained ever at Pelas' side, along with Cheru, Oblis and Ginat, only the latter of whom supported Dalta's schemes. Kolohi and Sol remained in the service of Pelas, but spent the greater portion of their time in the more tranquil fortress of Ilvas – serving as emissaries, they said.

Sons and daughters were born to the high elves in those days, though not nearly as often as they are born among mortals, who feel the approach of Death at every moment. There were many sons and daughters, cousins and kin who history has forgotten. Those who we remember are mainly those who sailed with the elves in their final flight from Bel Albor.

Fair Indra, the daughter of Sunlan's old king Ijjam, was spared in the night of the Dark Order. Agonas had not the heart to kill her, but he knew that, having slain her father, she could never love him. Pelas gathered his faithful servants when he departed, and he took Indra with him, giving her in marriage to Falruvis, who had served him well on his own voyage. In time her sorrows were healed and she was given the name Gladia and bore to her husband three sons and two daughters.

The eldest of her sons was, of course, Daruvis, who would later be known in Weldera as the Lord of Havoc. It was largely due to his deeds at the end of the wars of Czylost that Dadron fell and his kin were slain.

Sol, also, met his end at this time, along with his sons outside the gates of Dadron. Primsol, of course, had perished at the hand of Captain Proud of Lapulia during Lord Pelas' quest to slay the Thunder Snake. The second born of Falruvis and Gladia was named Telruvis, a noble soul, who never seemed to question anything he was told. Their daughters Kalrua and Samua followed several hundred years later, born within twelve years of one another - which was somewhat unusual for elves. Many joked that it was due to Indra's great beauty that the pair produced children as quickly as they did. Finally a somewhat sickly child - a boy - named Marruvis was born to them.

Sol and his wife Silan had a son named Deusol, who had already made a name for himself during Pelas' quest. Their daughter Milan was born a few years after the Sundering, and nearly a thousand years later they brought Lorsol into the world. It was Lorsol who was the father of Solran, the grandson of Sol who would lead the elves of Solsis to their doom when at the behest of Lord Bralohi he tempted the King of Amlaman in the days following the Siege of Dadron.

After the high elves fled from Bel Albor, Sol reluctantly adopted the name Solruvis, which made him seem in the eyes of the mortals of Tel Arie to be the brother of Falruvis. The elves wished to create the illusion that they were not merely survivors of an ancient and fallen kingdom, but kindred progenitors, coming to the south to bring peace and wisdom.

Kolohi and his perpetually miserable wife Wellin begat Kollorn and Kuxni, who were, like the daughers of Falruvis, were very nearly twins in the eyes of the elves for having been born within a decade of one another. Kolohi and his wife, however, never had any other children - nor did they have anything to do with one another if they could help it. Kolohi was lost to the world during the fall of the Verder Kingdom in central Olgrost when Xanthur's devil generals ravaged the world. Some say that he slumbers beneath the ruins, waiting for the end of all things to come upon Tel Arie, but who can say?

Bralohi and his wife Biran had five sons and many unnamed daughters - unnamed to historians I mean. The eldest son was Aebral, who had been at his father's side since the time Pelas first encountered them in the Swamps of Thedul. Beside him was Edbral, Cadbral, Ilbral and Urbral - all of whom perished when Xanthur destroyed the Crystal Palace of Falruvis in Ilmaria, forcing the Argent or Silver Elves to flee to Dadron in Weldera.

Dalta and Ele, the kinswoman of Amro and Ghastin, had their daughter Dalele, whom history knows as Dalia. In later ages they had a son also, whose name in Bel Albor was Daltanse, though in Tel Arie he was known as Dalta II. This Daltanse was slain in the Race Wars of Czylost; his father, Dalta, was slain by Ollitov, the husband of the queen of Marin - which, of course, was founded by the descendants of his own daughter Dalia.

Xanthur became known as the Lord of Morarta during the long reign of Agonas in Sunlan. Eventually this title became Lord Morarta, and when the elves fled from Bel Albor this name was changed to Lord Morta so that the mortals might think that he and Dalta, both of whom were dark haired, were brothers. He hated this pretense from the very beginning, but condescended out of loyalty to the other elves. When he turned upon them in later ages, he turned on the name also, and took once again the name Xanthur, by which he is better known to the world and more hated.

He angered the elves greatly by marrying a mortal woman. He had been offered many noble elf daughters, but he found that he liked none of them, remembering his own roots and how the Adapnan of Thure had dwelt in union with the mortals. His wife's name was Mayana, and she bore him several children, only the youngest of whom was Adapnan - or one of the immortals. She was named Nashai-ne-Malia, and from the moment she was first presented at court in Ilvas at the age of twenty, she captured the heart of Daruvis, who pursued her against the will of both Falruvis and Xanthur. Her fate can be learned, of course, by a careful reading of the Wars of Weldera, so I will not repeat it here. Needless to say their romance was a difficult and a complicated one.

Malia's father was an official in the godless land of Sunlan, he was the head of the god-hunters, and the enemy of all things divine. Falruvis, on the other hand, was chief of the Doctrai, whose purpose was to see that no gods were worshipped in Alwan but Pelas himself.

The War of Divinity

In addition to the enmity between Agonas and Pelas was added the strife between Xanthur and the superstitious peoples of Bel Albor. Lord Parganas had long been content to let the mortals believe whatsoever they pleased, so long as they remained loyal to the throne in Alwan. But the coming of Xanthur had brought great changes in the east, and the ancient traditions and customs of the Essenes, Lupith and the Knariss began to lose favor, not only in the eyes of the elves, but also in the eyes of mortal men. King Ijjan had long manipulated the mortals of Sunlan by supporting the worship of the goddess Evnai. Agonas shrewdly argued that his coming had freed the people from the lies of the elves, who did not believe a word of what they taught the humans. He argued these things shrewdly, I said, but Xanthur and Gheshtick argued these things sincerely, and the people believed them. Rather, I should say, most of the people. No matter what they did or taught they could not quite drive religion from the people entirely.

The people of Sunlan, now believing themselves to be free of their ancient oppression, resisted the dogmas and teachings of their western neighbors most fervently. Wars and strifes erupted between the Sunlan men and the Essenes, and between the Lupith and the Knariss, and between just about every group of mortal men.

These conflicts were encouraged by Pelas when he lost possession of the territory between Thedul and Esse, and he made every effort to encourage religion in the people of that land. But even his own strategies came to nothing as he discovered that the men he supported would often end up fighting one another as much as they fought against the intruders from Sunlan. The only way to counter Pelas' schemes, of course, was with the doctrines and ideas of Xanthur, who slowly built up a group of men of like mind with himself to deal with such matters. This was the birth of the god-hunters, or the Ixthedin as he named them.

To counter this Pelas decided that it was time for the people of Alwan to have one faith and one doctrine. Thus he commanded Falruvis to manage the Doctrai, a group of teachers and scholars that were tasked with proving that Lord Pelas was, in fact, the only true god.

This was resisted fiercely at first, but the elves live for many generations and what is absurd to one generation may be merely laughable to the next, an old joke to the third, and very nearly sensible to the fourth. By the time of our present tale it was all but settled in Alwan that a god reigned in the west, and a devil in the east. In Sunlan it was believed that Pelas was a madman.

The creation of the god-hunters was by no means Xanthur's first solution to the problems of superstition and fanaticism. He first attempted to sway the people through reasoning, inviting their holy men to Sunlan Palace for counsel. None of them could answer his objections, but they held fast to their dogmas regardless. He tried to find some common manner of speaking that would permit some of their fanciful ideas to find more rational interpretations, but they resisted this as a subversive and evil attack upon their faith.

In the end the only thing he could do was let them be. But when wars threatened to overflow into Sunlan, and when he saw fields of slain men, butchered in the name of this or that spirit, he grew more and more enraged until finally he went to Agonas and, with his permission, created the Ixthedin, the 'negators of spirits' or the god-hunters, as they came to be known. Xanthur's will was set against the gods of Sunlan, until many religions and sects were driven to utter extinction, their legacies surviving only within the minds of Xanthur and Gheshtick, who studied their texts before burning them into nothingness.

The Essenes remained strong in Ilvas, where Dalta's rule protected them in exchange for their loyalty, and several other groups maintained their customs in secret, but for the most part Sunlan had become bereft of faith altogether.

The conflict between Lord Pelas and Lord Agonas never quite came out into the open. Whether it was the Essenes against the Lupith, the Doctrai against the god-hunters or any other parties, the conflicts were kept well away from the domain of the elves, and Alwan and Sunlan grew in beauty and strength for thousands of years while the mortal lands warred against and killed one another in great numbers. Many of those who fought did not know that it was Pelas or his brother Agonas who had instigated the fight. This great unending conflict was called, even at the time, the War of Peace.

Vanished

'I locked the door myself,' Eberu said to Taral as they examined the empty chamber in which was housed the man known as Theodysus. 'I swear I locked it; I swear it by every god and every devil.'

'That oath won't do anything to calm the Lord of Morarta,' Taral said worriedly.

'I don't understand. There is no other way out of this hall. I have questioned the guards already, and they can give me no answers. There were three on duty last night, and they all hate one another enough that I have no need to think that they would conceal the other's guilt.'

'They said something about a fire,' Taral said. 'They say that they saw the halls filled with smoke. Surely that is when the prisoner escaped.'

'But smoke does not simply conjure itself into existence,' Eberu grumbled, in his mind remembering the arguments the prisoner had made. 'When smoke rises, fire leaps, they say - but where was the flame?'

'I cannot say, my lord,' Taral said, standing uneasily near the door of the cell.

Eberu fumbled with the chains that had bound his prisoner, trying to figure out if there was something amiss. But he could not puzzle out what had happened.

'What do you want me to do?' Taral asked. He was a soldier, not a scholar. This sort of investigation was something for which he had very little patience.

'Take the god-hunters and find that man!' Eberu shouted angrily. 'Take as many as you need and find him. He cannot have gone far from Morarta. Find him and kill him.'

Unlocking Morarta

It was not at all difficult for Candor Proud to find a way into the Keep of Morarta. On the very night that Eberu interrogated Theodysus Candor climbed the wall of the Keep quietly, finding a little used door that opened up to the roof. If ever the Keep were besieged this door would allow archers to take up positions atop the walls. But Morarta was well protected by other fortresses and barracks in the region, and had little need for such defenses. Candor picked the iron lock easily enough, greased the hinges and slipped soundlessly into the dark upper passages of the Keep.

He lurked about in the shadows for a time until he had gained some sense of what doors led to what corridors.

The stairs presented something of a challenge to him, as the only set of steps was also near the main hall and the dining room where the god-hunters were fed when they were in the Keep. There were a great many people who passed through this area, and there was seldom a time when there were no eyes on the stairs. Candor waited until dinner was served to make his descent. When the great mass of warriors passed into the dining room he crept down the steps quickly and silently, his soft shoes making no noise on the stones. A door opened and he laid himself flat upon the steps, the darkness of his cloak blending into the shadows - enough at least so that he was not discovered by the laughing soldiers who passed. When their footsteps vanished and the door to the dining hall swung shut, Candor crept down the remaining stairs on his belly like a serpent, rounding the corner of the stairs and vanishing into a small dark hallway.

He lurked silently in the halls for nearly an half hour until he finally found a single man resting contentedly in a dark corner of the Keep. He dropped low to the ground and crept over to the man quietly. In a flash he put a cloth over the man's mouth and waited as the man breathed in the potion in which the cloth had been soaked. The man's panicked breath grew easy again, and he stopped struggling. Looking into the man's hazy eyes Candor asked, 'There is a book that was brought here lately. Where is it? Do you know where such things are kept? It was sent for Lord Eberu.'

'The man thought for a long while, seemingly having a hard time remembering even who Lord Eberu was. Candor feared that he had, perhaps, soaked the cloth for too long. It was hard to tell without his book. 'I will have to check the measurements,' he thought to himself.

But the man eventually seemed to remember something about books. 'Books go, to Xanthur,' he said, 'there is a library - a burning room. They burn the books there.'

Where is it?' Candor hissed frantically, unable to fully subdue his panicked emotions. Seven years of his life had been spent making that book. Seven years!

The Spell-books of the Lapulian Mages were made strong enough to withstand a great deal of abuse. But they could not long withstand fire. The Black Adder were the only ones permitted to carry such a book beyond the city's limits. This, of course, was precisely the reason for this restriction. If but one fool got his hands on such a book, and if that fool by some chance managed to figure out its secrets, the power of Lapulia would be broken at once. For their power lay in their secrecy. They could perform wonders and marvels, but only wonders and marvels to those who did not know the means by which they performed them.

The true meaning of each book was different for each Black Adder. What Candor wrote was different from what every other Black Adder had written. You could not, by comparing them, discern what was said in each book. Moreover, each book held secrets only known to the Black Adder who created it. The secret of the Lapulian Firesling and Thunderstones were written within each book, so that a Black Adder could create the device wherever he happened to find himself, so long as he had the materials.

Each book had three distinct readings. This is what made the books so difficult both to produce and to understand. The plain meaning was almost always either utter nonsense or something completely unimportant. Candor's instructor, a somewhat eccentric Mage by the name of Courage, had written his entire book as a rather peculiar romantic poem. But this was only the surface reading. There was another way that the words could be interpreted that would render the passages meaningful, but yet incomplete. This was reserved for cases where the book had perhaps fallen into the hands of a torturer or an enemy scholar, who demanded to have the meaning explained. The second reading could, in such cases, be given to him. But whereas the true meaning might be the ingredients for a healing potion, the second reading would produce a toxin or a poison. There were generally some very useful potions that could be made entirely based upon the second reading of the text, but these were put into the book solely to inspire confidence in the captor's mind. There was a very famous account of one Mage who showed his captors how to make a potion to increase their muscle growth. After finding some success the captor began to make more potions from the book. In the end he made a 'Potion of Eternal Life' and gave it to the king of his country. The King, according to the account, died during the night.

The third reading was the true reading, and it represented everything that the Mages of Lapulia had discovered in their long history of study and practice. It also, as I indicated, represented the Black Adder's own discoveries. For this reason Candor's instructor had begun every lesson by saying, 'Never, ever, EVER, lose your Book!'

'Where is this library?' Candor asked again, shaking the man where he lay.

'It is past the prison, near Lord Morarta's chambers,' the man said.

Candor pressed the man further to learn the way to the prison. When he was confident that he knew the way he left the man to his sleep. The man would not remember anything from their conversation.

Candor passed down several more passageways before coming to a place that was guarded by three men, each facing in a different direction. He reached into his pocket and drew out a tiny ball, no thicker than his thumb. He slid open a small lid on the surface of the ball and rolled it into the center of the room. It was small enough that the men did not notice it until it burst, filling the room with smoke. Candor plunged into the smoke and darted quietly past the guards, slipping into the prison without being noticed. He only had a few more Smokers; he would need the book to make more.

He came at last to a large hall with a number of identical doors. He tested them and found that most of them were just empty cells. But the fifth door was locked. He quickly drew out his lock-pick and opened the door. The little light that entered the room from a torch in the hallway was enough to let him know that this was no library. There was a table in the center of the room and some heavy chains hanging upon the wall.

He quickly shut the door and moved on to the next room. This room had a heavier lock, which took a few moments for him to open. But when he entered he found a room filled with scrolls, parchments and books. There was a man in the room studying a document under the light of a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. 'The prisoner has escaped!' Candor shouted from outside the room. The man rose and darted out into the hall, but Candor tripped him as he passed through the door and struck him in the back of the head as he tumbled over. He fell to the ground in a heap.

Candor slipped inside and quickly searched the room for his book. Panic began to overtake him, and the prospect of not only entering, but escaping from the Keep of Morarta began to weigh heavily upon his mind. His whole mission had been taken over by this quest after his book. He had failed. He lost the book, he was leagues from his true destination, and he was going to be caught - or, rather, he was going to kill himself to avoid such a fate. As fear began to overtake him he glanced at the paper on the table. It was a register of some kind, and on it was written the titles of a great many books. At the very bottom of the list was written, 'Kharku mythology', and beside it was written, 'To Ilvas'. The signature beside the title simply read 'Xan'.

Candor quickly left the room and stepped carefully over the body of Deriks, who was the man he had knocked unconscious. As he approached the entrance to the prison he rolled out another Smoker and slipped out, carefully counting his steps until he came once more to the stairs. In the chaos he passed many well-meaning god-hunters who were running into the smoke with buckets filled with water to put out a fire that did not exist. He found his way to the roof once again and slipped over the wall, not realizing that he was not the only one to walk out of Morarta that evening.
[Chapter V:  
A Darkness](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

To Ilvas

The road to Ilvas wound through a hilly and untamed country. In the days following the Sundering the people of northern Sunlan had banded together in fortified towns and cities, abandoning the open hill country across which they had been scattered. The dangers posed by the constant mortal warfare of the War of Peace was too great for any village to survive without some protection.

Candor Proud passed many empty farms and many forsaken villages as he made his way along the old highway toward Esessa, the city which now stood upon the eastern banks of the Esse River near the North Bridge. This was, though it had changed much over the centuries, the very same road that brought Pelas and Agonas into Sunlan in the first place.

Some of the villages he passed were not merely abandoned. Some had been burned with fire and broken in pieces, now left to be reclaimed by the elements.

There was a cold wind passing over the hills that evening, as if Winter meant to skip the Spring altogether, and make its return immediately. This was to be expected in the north, however, and Candor's cloak was more than sufficient to keep him warm. The road appeared to have been well traveled, but there was no one else upon the road that day. There were fresh tracks in the dirt, and piles of horse manure still teeming with flies. But he saw no sign of other travelers beside these.

Finally he came to Esessa and was allowed into the city just before they closed the gates for the evening. He had spent a few days sleeping in abandoned barns he had found along the way. A bed would be a nice change, he thought.

In the dining hall he took a meal of spiced mutton and a rather bland stew of carrots and potatoes. He was given a small loaf of bread and a glob of butter for it. The serving girl at this inn was far less friendly than the girl he had seen in Evnai. There were more men in this inn than in the Hooked Fish, but none of them looked at all like they were just passing the time. Three men sat at one table whispering, the meanest looking of them trimming his fingernails with a throwing knife.

In one corner of the inn he saw a rather frightened looking young girl with long, curly brown hair - she could not be more than twenty years of age. She seemed to be hiding behind a rather robust looking old man.

Candor shook his head. If the old man wanted to protect her, he should have put her in a room by now. There were others in the inn taking notice of the girl's beauty, and not all of them were cold-hearted murderers like him, he thought to himself.

A grin passed over his face and he shook his head again. 'What is it about women?' he asked himself quietly. 'They are like one of Loyal's old poisons.'

Loyal was one of the reasons he had volunteered to come to Sunlan. They had received no word from the Star Seer for many months, and if three Black Adder were his guardians, Candor felt pretty sure that something had gone amiss. Most likely all four of them were dead, slain by some fool elf lord or by some superstitious mountain men. But the Magic Tower did not take chances with their secrets, though they took many chances with their people.

Loyal had taught Candor to make potions several years ago, especially the sort of potion that makes a person ready to speak the truth, overly-trusting and easy to manipulate.

A rough looking man went near the table where the two strange travelers were seated. He made some kind of gesture toward the woman, but the old man's face turned to iron and the man backed away.

Candor left two gold coins on the table and left the dining hall to find his room. He had already gotten into trouble for helping some fool Sunlander. He could not risk losing the trail of his spell book because he had meddled with these fools and their problems. The risks to the Tower took precedence over all other matters.

He closed the door to his room, threw down the latch. In a short time he was fast asleep.

The morning came quickly and he rose to wash, hoping to leave the city and cross the North Bridge before most of the commerce had begun. Esessa was a somewhat large city for north Sunlan. It was, properly speaking, loyal to Agonas and to Sunlan, but it received most of its wealth as well as most of its security from the army of Ilvas, which was but a day's ride to the north along the west bank of the Esse River. But as he went to cross the river he saw the old man from the inn again, suspiciously eying the other travelers as he attempted to barter with one of the merchants. The young woman sat nearby, seated upon a strong brown horse.

'I am telling you this is a god-hunter's sword,' the merchant hissed. 'You cannot sell these in Esessa, not unless you wish to be hauled by your toes to Morarta. I don't care how you said you found it, it is bad luck to so much as touch one of their blades.'

'Then melt it, sell the iron, I don't care what comes of it,' the man said, 'I need some provisions, and a sword I have already - and a better one at that.'

'Sell me that sword, then,' the merchant said mercilessly. 'I can buy a sword if it does not belong to Lord Morarta.'

'I will find another merchant,' the old man said desperately, hoping it would change the other man's mind.

But the merchant shook his head and said, 'you will not; that much I can assure you. If there is any place in Sunlan where you cannot sell such a blade it is here, where the Lord of the god-hunters himself passes every time he wishes to take council with the learned elves of Alwan and Ilvas.'

The old man brushed his hand nervously through his hair. He made as if to say something more, but turned and stormed away.

Candor followed after, both of them making their way along the west road, heading for the bridge. He soon overtook the man and called out to him, 'My good fellow traveler,' he said, 'I saw that you were trying to sell a blade.'

The old man turned cautiously to face the Black Adder, eyeing him suspiciously. 'Please,' Candor said with urgency, 'I need a sword desperately. I will give you gold, of course, as much as I have.'

'What do you need the sword to do, young man?' the old man asked.

Candor's eyes widened and he could not stop his eyes from darting up to look at the sky. 'The man is so desperate for money, but he won't sell me a sword if he thinks I mean to murder someone with it,' he thought angrily. The training he had received in Lapulia had all but cured him of such concerns. The Black Adder were brought to the Tower at an early age, and one of their first duties was the execution of prisoners. As soon as they were strong enough to wield a sword fatally they were given the task of killing those who had set themselves against the laws of the Magic City. By the time they were adults they were so used to killing human beings that they could do it with as much reflection as a butcher has for his chickens.

'I must leave on a journey at once, into Alwan, and I do not wish to go unarmed,' Candor replied. Of course, with thirteen knives, a Firesling, and six Lapulian Thunderstones, he was not exactly helpless. He still had all the gold he had taken from the prison in Evnai - gold that he really didn't need. If this man delayed him any further he would just have to give up and leave the man to his fate.

The man looked at Candor kindly and then said, 'If that is so, my friend, then you take the sword, but use it wisely, and do no harm to anyone.' He took the sword and passed it into Candor's hands.

The young woman looked at the older man with respect, subtly nodding her approval. This was not at all what he was trying to accomplish. It was much easier to kill people in their sleep than to give them a simple kindness, Candor thought. He took the sword and looked at it carefully.

'I insist upon the payment,' he said after a short pause. 'I have the gold for it. I receive it as though it were a gift, however, for I see that you have a kind heart. The kindness you have shown is within your heart, and not in the sword, so please do not think that you have lost anything for receiving the gold. My parents are Proud, and they would be furious to think that I, who had received so much from their hands, did not return their graciousness to others.' He offered the man a small pouch of gold coins and turned swiftly to the road. 'May our roads cross again,' he said when he turned to face the girl, forgetting for a moment that this was a greeting unique to the Magic City.

She nodded solemnly, but said nothing.

'Poison,' he said quietly to himself, walking quickly up the road toward the bridge. As he vanished into the crowd of merchants and laborers that now made their way from Sunlan to Ilvas over the wide stone-wrought bridge Nonix watched him curiously.

'What is it?' Leai asked.

'He has turned along the north road. He said that he was going to Alwan,' the old warrior said with confusion. 'If the man was a liar, though, why would he insist upon making payment?'

'Perhaps our roads shall indeed cross again,' Leai said, her voice gentle, but still filled with sorrow.

'There is some kind of darkness hanging over him,' Nonix said with concern. 'Our own road lies to the north. Let us see where it leads us.'

In Ilvas

Nonix saw no further sign of the strange young man who had purchased the god-hunters' sword from him. Had he known that the lad meant to go north, and not to Alwan as he had claimed, he would have warned him about the blade's origin. For this reason he partly hoped that he would overtake the youth. The only settlement north of Esessa was Ilvas itself, and if the boy was heading there his sword's origin would be known at once. He could not imagine what the young man's purpose could be in the north.

For his part he hoped that the neutral government of Ilvas could offer him and Leai some protection, or perhaps some answer for what had happened to his village. He had heard that Ilvas at times offered refugees a place to dwell in return for their loyalty. He had no more loyalty to Sunlan; he could not, even if he wished, remain in that land.

But to settle in any of the three kingdoms without the leave of an elf lord was folly. Many had attempted to do just that, and when it had been discovered, they were treated like spies or traitors, and given welcome nowhere.

'Why must the elves rule over everything? Are they truly as strong as the legends say?' Leai asked him.

'They are strong, but not stronger than a man in his prime. Men wax and wane with age, however; the elves dwell in a perpetual prime, and show no signs of weariness as the years pass them by. But it is not chiefly in their strength of arms that they derive their authority. They rule because, like their skill in battle, their skill in political maneuvering is evergreen. Men can only plan for the length of their own lives. Elves can plan and plot until the world ends.'

They had spent most of the day on the northern road, entering the forest as the evening approached. The ancient stones of the highway, now deeply grooved from centuries of trade and traffic, forced their horse to walk slowly and carefully.

When evening came they camped behind a great rise in the eastern forest where the light of their cook fire would be hidden from the road. Around midnight, however, they were awakened from slumber by the sound of hooves on the stone. When Leai rose and peaked over the hill she found that Nonix was already awake, watching fearfully as a large party of horsemen passed them by.

'They are god-hunters,' he said, eyeing their dark armor. 'The knights of Sunlan wear red and gold, those of Alwan white, and those of Ilvas where grey or brown. Only the god-hunters have such dark apparel.'

'What are they doing here? Why are they in Ilvas?' Leai asked worriedly. Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought off panic.

'Do not worry,' Nonix said. 'I am sure they are only bringing a message to Lord Dalta; they do not dwell in this land.'

But even as he spoke several of the riders slowed down and strayed behind the others. They spoke loudly so that their voices could be heard over the sound of the clicking hooves. 'The forest road is watched,' one of them shouted, 'from North Bridge to the gates of Ilvas - or so it shall be within the hour.'

'As soon as we receive word from Lord Morarta,' the other said, 'we will start our search of the forest.'

They brought their horses to a stop and began slowly wandering off the road toward the forest, walking along the edge of the trees peering into the darkness.

'What are they searching for?' Leai asked fearfully.

'I do not know,' Nonix replied grimly. 'But we dare not let them find us. Come!' With that he bundled up their belongings and led her toward the river. He worried now that perhaps he had been a fool to think that they would find security in Ilvas. The three elvish kingdoms were at war, but it was only the blood of mortals that they saw fit to spill. They would not even ask questions if they stumbled across the two survivors of Esluna in the darkness. More than likely they would strike them dead before they even learned that they were from that ill-fated village.

They were forced to abandon the horse at their campsite, since the beast's hooves would make too much noise upon the rocks and in the bushes of the forest. 'The river is not yet fully guarded,' Nonix said as they hurried through the brush. 'That is our hope. We must pass into the north before they begin their search. We do not want to be found by the god-hunters, regardless of who their true prey may be.'

The Book At Last

Though the ancient fortress of Ilvas was the chief stronghold of the reborn Kingdom of Ilvas, Candor Proud had very little difficulty sneaking inside. The fortress had grown into a city and the city extended far beyond the original stone walls, encompassing an enormous portion of the forest.

Ilvas had always been close to the Esse River, and a branch of that river channeled into the fortress in the days of Pelas' rule, but as the elves grew in power in the days following the Sundering, the city was built right up to the Esse itself, and a great deal of trade was made possible by means of the water. Since Dalta essentially served as a barrier between the two rival kingdoms, swearing allegiance to both, he was able to trade in lumber and fur with men on both shores of the Esse River. There were always merchants entering the city, paying tribute in the fortress and otherwise going about their business. He found his way into the city posing as a merchant's guard. The merchant was well known to the guards, and passed through without being questioned about his business. He led a large caravan of goods and had enough guards hired that it was not difficult to overlook an extra man.

Thus, though thirteen guards entered with the merchant, only twelve departed and the guards did not count them either entering or leaving.

By luck or by fate Candor did not need to search long to find some trace of his book, either. The god-hunters entered the city like a gale, and ten of them in full armor marched straight through the halls of the fortress to speak with their master, who was then in council with some of the high elves.

Xanthur came out to them angrily, but when he heard their news, that the prisoner Theodysus had escaped - and escaped so mysteriously - he left with them at once, leaving a brief message of apology for the other high elves.

When the party had left, Candor made his way carefully to the hall where the high elves were in council. Upon the table lay an open book filled with colorful illustrations and fine black letters.

The elves Sol and Kolohi had both looked at it closely, but could not tell whether it meant anything more than the nonsense it recorded.

Kolohi thought it might contain some secret meaning, but in truth he was quite far from suspecting anything resembling the book's true purpose.

The other elves deemed it scarcely worth a second glance. Cheru, who was present on an errand from Lord Pelas, suggested they burn it with fire that very hour, and Oblis was naturally of the same mind. When Lord Pelas tired of his servants he was known to send them on pointless missions of diplomacy. 'Reassure Lord Dalta that the court of Pelas in Alwan bears him the highest regard,' he told them simply. Ginat was present as well, of course, as he was, properly speaking, the official emissary to Ilvas Kingdom.

Amro and Ghastin were present also, though Ghastin had long since retired from the council. The elves discussed various matters long into the night, leaving the book to sit upon the table untouched. But there was no means for Candor to acquire it at the time.

He very nearly burst into the room that moment with his knives at the ready when he heard them mention casting the book into the fire. But Cheru's council, as was the case with nearly all of his suggestions, was quickly contradicted, Amro suggesting they simply return the book to Xanthur. 'Let him and his god-hunters decide its fate,' he said. 'It will not tax the resources of this kingdom to store the book for a few nights, or to send it with a merchant or a courier to Morarta.'

Toward the end of the evening, after some questions about the weight and purity of Sunlan's gold coins were discussed, the meeting was called to an end, Sol considering their deliberations to be quite sufficient. 'I'll see to it that the book is cared for until Lord Morarta retrieves or sends for it,' he said to the others.

They departed together, each leaving to make their way to their own apartment. The emissaries of Pelas' court went to the western wing of the fortress, each being kept in separate quarters.

Candor followed them in silence without being noticed. The high elf Sol now had the book in his possession. He did not wish to kill such an important elf, since his mission did not directly involve any such actions. But the importance of preserving the secrets of the book outweighed any other concern. Even if he had to slay the king of Sunlan himself it would be a small matter when compared to the possibility that someone might discover the secrets of the Black Adder. However unlikely this might be, the very fact that the elves exhibited such interest in the book gave him pause.

He oiled the hinges of the tall oak door through which Sol had entered and, after waiting a few minutes for the oil to sink down onto the iron, he pushed the door open as quietly as he was able.

The apartment was dark when Candor entered it, only a tiny spark of light remained atop a small candle set upon an empty table. A tiny sliver of smoke rose from it. Sol had just extinguished it and entered his bedchambers for the night. Candor searched the room carefully in the dark, hoping the book might be somewhere in the outer chambers of the apartment. He was somewhat surprised to find that the high elf had not locked his door; but the fortress of Ilvas was well guarded and there are none save for the Black Adder who could have hoped to sneak around the fortress as Candor had done. He could not see any trace of the book in the outer rooms, however, so he carefully proceeded further into the apartment, his soft shoes making no sound. He knelt low to the ground and peered around the corner into the elf's bedroom. The elf was already asleep, though Candor was certain he had not been sleeping for long. The book was tossed carelessly onto a table next to his bed, its pages folding upon themselves as if he had simply tossed it aside. 'If you think it is such trash, wait until I have it again,' Candor thought angrily, 'then you will see its worth.'

For a long while Candor did nothing more than to listen carefully to the elf's breathing, waiting for his rapid breath to slow. He wanted to be sure that the elf was deep in slumber before he approached the book. After half of an hour had passed he rose and slipped in through the door, carefully making his way to the bedside. He kept his eyes upon the sleeper, but his mind was focussed upon the book. He took it up carefully and let its pages fall once more into their natural place. But as he lifted the book away a slender looking glass fell from atop the book and clinked against the wooden table. It was a slight sound, but it was enough to disturb Sol's deep repose. Candor darted from the room in an instant, quickly vanishing around the corner.

Sol fumbled in the dark for a moment and his hand knocked the end of the looking glass, knocking it from the table to shatter upon the floor. It took him a few moments to realize that the book was gone, but when he did he cried out in fear and terror, thinking the thief to still be within his chamber.

In an instant an alarm was raised and guards were summoned to the apartments. The other high elves were roused and the whole fortress of Ilvas was shaken to wakefulness. 'Somebody has stolen that foolish book!' Sol marveled, half in anger, half in amusement.

The Humilation of the High Elves

Six armed guards approached the apartment from both sides, trapping the Black Adder between them. Candor wrapped his dark cloak around himself and hid his limbs from their view. In one quick motion he cast a Smoker to his right, blinding the guards coming from that direction. Thick black smoke choked them and blinded them, and only the sound of anguished grunts and the clink of steel could be heard on the other side of the smoke veil. When the smoke cleared Candor was gone, and the other six guards lay dead upon the ground, one of them with Candor's knife still sunk deep in his eye socket.

By that time Cheru and Oblis, Ginat and Amro had left their rooms, each bearing a weapon.

Sol burst from his room in his sleeping robes, shouting, 'Someone stole the book!'

When he saw the wreckage of the six guards upon the ground he said, 'The gods! There must be something hidden within that text after all, if one would do all this for it. Lock the fortress! Let no one in or out until the thief is found!' he shouted. The remaining guards parted ways, each going a separate way to carry Sol's command.

It was not long before not only every soldier in Ilvas was wakened, but also every high elf. Lord Dalta himself, Thuruvis, Ghastin and even the Lady Dalia were now armed and armored, hunting carefully through the fortress for the thief. Now and again they would find a guard stabbed through the throat, or with a dagger cast through the eye slits of his helm.

But whoever it was that thus thwarted their efforts and had thus far escaped capture, they were still trapped in the fortress. That much they discerned from the bodies that they kept discovering. It was soon decreed that no man should travel the fortress alone. And, of course, after this command was given they began to find pairs of bodies slain upon the floors of Ilvas.

More soldiers were summoned from the outer city and soon the whole fortress was crawling with armed men. It was then that Candor decided that the ways of the Secret Knife would not avail him in Ilvas.

He pulled his cloak around him and made his way toward the front gate of the fortress, no longer skulking in the shadows. Many of the soldiers stepped back at the first sight of the black cloaked figure who now approached them. Nothing save his mouth and its grim expression could be seen in the torchlight, all else was covered by this cloak.

Oblis, angered that such a puny foe could be responsible for so much, stepped forward with his blade drawn. Cheru and Ginat stepped forward as well, coming to stand beside their foolhardy companion.

Candor walked steadily forward, however, showing no sign of fear at their approach. When he came within range Oblis struck at him with his blade. But Candor had already stepped aside, his foot striking the elf in the jaw, knocking him off of his feet. In the next instant he ran forward, trampling the elf beneath him. The others could not strike him without slaying Oblis also.

Candor leaped forward as if to pass them by, but as he sailed through the air he grasped Ginat's right arm tightly and used the elf's arm as a swing of sorts, tearing the elf warrior's bone out of place and slamming him to the ground in agony.

Cheru stared at his fallen companions in amazement as the small figure slipped past him, making his way toward the door as though the other elf did not exist.

Several other elf warriors and a number of guards approached him. He cast a dagger into the heart of one of the elves, cunningly took the spear from the arms of one of the guards and tripped the rest with its shaft. He then cast the spear into another group of soldiers, piercing one of the warriors through the breast.

'Does anyone have a bow?' Amro shouted, perceiving the incredible skill of their intruder. He approached Candor cautiously, but when he made his first blow he found that Candor had pinned the blade between two knives and then twisted the sword from his hand. He backed away while Ghastin approached, carefully keeping up his guard while he drew the attacker's attention away from his now unarmed brother.

Thuruvis made as if to approach, but Dalia held him back. 'Do not go near this man,' she said. 'I have seen his like before.' Her face was as pale as Death.

As Ghastin circled the strange intruder he saw that the man fumbled with something beneath his cloak. When he looked closer he saw that there was some small pendant hanging from the man's neck from which a small trickle of smoke rose. Candor backed away from Ghastin slowly. A group of soldiers approached him from behind. He held a long knife in his left hand, ready to guard against Ghastin's attacks, but in his right hand he raised his Firesling, which only Sol recognized.

When the high elf beheld the weapon that, in the hand of the ancient Captain Proud, had slain his son, he shouted, 'Devil!' But in that instant a flash blinded everyone and a loud boom shook them to their knees. An iron ball flew from the end of the Firesling in a rage, piercing and slaying three rows of heavily armored warriors, cutting a line straight through the marching warriors.

The others were so shocked that they could do nothing to stop Candor as he flew through the hole in their defenses. Three balls he rolled against the wall as he raised the Firesling once more to face his enemies. Ghastin made as if to charge him, but Amro held him back. 'We are outmatched,' he whispered to his brother. 'Do not die for this man, and do not die for these elves.' Amro had allied with Dalta chiefly because of his disapproval of both Pelas and Agonas. But he was still, first and foremost, concerned with the safety of his family. He did not so much believe in Dalta's leadership as he believed that some balance was needed between the rival sons of Parganas.

Sol could barely contain his rage, however and charged forward with his own blade held high, ready to strike the strange intruder down. The Firesling rang out once more, and Sol was knocked straight backwards onto the ground, his left shoulder covered in blood. Candor did nothing to stop those who rushed to aid him. They would be easy targets, but he only had three more rounds to fire. He rolled three of his Thunderstones against the far wall where they rattled against the stones. The elves and the warriors watched him without understanding. He cast a Smoker at the assembled force, blinding them from his actions. He then took a fourth Thunderstone and lit it with fire from the smoking pendant upon his neck. The other Thunderstones would not need to be lit; when the fire from this last stone struck them they would all go together. He rolled the last Thunderstone into the wall with the others and vanished around the corner. There was a great blast and when he returned there was a gaping hole in the thick wall of the fortress of Ilvas. The smoke cleared just in time for the elves to watch the dark shape of the Black Adder vanish through the new passageway and disappear from Ilvas and from elvish memory forever. The elves, as any student of history is bound to have noticed, do not long remember their humiliations.

In his sack Candor could feel the weight of his Spell book once more. Now, at last, he could do what he had come to Bel Albor to accomplish. But the relief that he felt about once more possessing the Spell book only seemed to make way for the grim reality that his quest was not truly to recover the book at all, but rather to investigate the silence of the Star Seer.

His own friend Loyal had been one of the Black Adder who was meant to protect the Seer. The silence meant that more than likely the Black Adder had been slain somehow, and either the Star Seer was dead also, or had been discovered. This latter possibility was very nearly as much a danger to the Magic Tower of Lapulia as the discovery of the Spell book. In this latter part of his quest he knew that he could not afford to fail. Both for the sake of his country and for the sake of his ill-favored family, he must succeed.

A Guard

Nonix and Leai lay hidden beneath a thick growth of bushes that had grown to cover the hollow frame of a long dead maple tree. They were not alone in their hiding spot - not alone at all. Hundreds if not thousands of bugs and snails inhabited the dark, musty tree trunk. But thus far they had been passed over thrice by the searching god-hunters, who had been searching the forest for nearly two days. The survivors of Esluna were tired, hungry and filthy, but they made no sound and did not move from their secret place.

How far her future had strayed, Leai thought, from that which she had envisioned. She was wed to her beloved - the most noble soul she had ever known. She held him in her arms for but an hour, however, before fate brought her to this sorry state. She would have done better to have stayed by his side and tasted death at the hands of the god-hunters. She would be better of dead even now. This she fervently believed, but nonetheless her fear of pain drove her to escape death, though it seemed to offer her a release from the sorrow and heartache.

Nonix felt little better.

Stratix had represented the survival of his' entire line, and his death seemed to render Nonix entirely hopeless and humorless. He cared for Leai as if she were his own daughter - as if she were somehow a remnant of his own grandson. But for himself he did not see any reason to go on living. He would find her somewhere safe and secure, and then spend his blood in a mad struggle for revenge. He would die quickly, of course, the elves would see to that. There was nothing else for him to do. He would die and so also would his people.

Whatever safety Leai did find, it would mean that the memory of Esluna would be swallowed up by some other people - for who remembers the line of a mother?

Thus they both hid, hopeless and desiring death; but both struggling with all their might to stay alive. 'Our flesh mocks us,' Nonix thought to himself grimly, 'Reason desires death, but the body has its own reasons, and will not allow us the comforts of the grave.'

When some hours had passed without so much as the sound of hooves in the distance, and when the normal sounds of the forest returned, Nonix gently nudged Leai to wakefulness. 'I think it is safe,' he told her. 'I will go out first and take a look around.'

He slipped past her, struggling against the soreness of his old bones as he rose. He left the dark, damp hollow for but a moment, tasting the sweet fresh forest air. Almost as soon as he poked his head out, however, he heard the sound of men talking.

'Their camp is not far from here,' a young man said, 'It is but a day's ride north of Ilvas. Why don't we just ride out and finish them? Then this runaway will have no people to seek. If Lord Morarta is so worried that he will find them again, why not capture them and make an end of the whole sect?'

'Do you know nothing of the Utter North?' an older voice said, scornfully. 'If we are not torn to pieces by goblins we will be lost in the wilds thereof, where rivers freeze and trees break in the wind by reason of the cold. Winter rules those lands throughout the year, releasing its grip but a little during the summer. If the prisoner wishes to go there, I say let him - he and his like will come to a bad end. We only need to concern ourselves with what he does while he is here. You are old enough, at least, to remember the prophet Sargane, who raised an army against Sunlan. If they had marched to the ice in the North rather than marched with swords toward Sunlan Palce, they would not have been dealt with so harshly.'

Nonix ducked his head back into the hollow trunk and whispered, 'There are men outside, remain silent.' But as he made to return to his hiding place his old joints gave out and he tumbled atop Leai, who gasped in surprise as he struggled to avoid crashing down upon her. The commotion was enough to rouse the attention of the guards, who fell silent at once as they began their search of the surrounding woods.

The guards spoke no further until they had come to the place where they thought the sound had originated. Leai and Nonix had just begun to feel that they had not been discovered when a man's head appeared from outside, peering in at the two of them. The young man's face showed as much surprise and fear as the hiders, and he knocked his head against the roof of the tree trunk as he struggled to warn his companion.

'There's people-!' he began to shout, but Nonix had his sword through the man's neck before he finished his cry for help.

Nonix pushed Leai behind him and prepared his old bones to strike the other man. The other god-hunter, however, did not appear. Everything remained silent for a time, until they heard the sound of many footsteps approaching.

Candor Proud hurried through the woods northeast of Ilvas, following but avoiding the Goblin Wall which stood north of the city as a buffer between the people and the brutes of the north woods. He had stopped his flight only for a few moments here and there to catch his breath or to take a drink from one of the cold streams of fresh water that littered the land. He had some rather frightening encounters with wolves during the night, but he lit a torch with his pendant and that was more than enough to drive the packs away from him. He only needed this for a short time, however, as a much greater torch soon arose in the sky, driving all the creatures of the dark into hiding. He had passed by a group of goblins as they cut away at a deer they had slain. He knew better than to disturb goblins as they hunted.

He kept moving at a good pace as he headed east toward the river. He had heard that there was a little used crossing somewhere to the north of Ilvas, but he was not sure how far along the river.

The people of Ilvas knew surprisingly little about the land to the north of them - even that which lay just a few leagues beyond the Goblin Wall. His steady progress was halted, however, when he heard the sound of men shouting.

'Come out of there you old madman!' they shouted angrily. 'Drop the sword and come out now or we shall burn you and your whore to dust where you hide!'

Two dead men lay outside a hollow tree trunk, their blood still trickling onto the forest floor. Somewhere within the enormous tree trunk he could hear the sound of a woman weeping. He was of a mind to pass them by, and to be glad that these warriors were occupied, but the voice that called out defiantly was not entirely unfamiliar to him.

'Get away from here, you murderers!' Nonix shouted from within their hiding place. 'Burn us if you are such cowards!' The girl seemed to share none of his defiant spirit. For all his courage in the face of death she wept all the more bitterly.

She longed for death, but this death was as meaningless as that of Stratix, her beloved's end. To die in this way seemed worse than dying at his side, and worse than surviving. For it made everything she had done, from hiding at the river to fleeing to Ilvas, to hiding in that wretched tree entirely useless and meaningless. She mourned not for her death, but for each moment she had lived since the fall of Esluna.

Having helped them before Candor, found himself in much the same plight. To see them die in this manner would render his former kindness - if indeed it could be called kindness - useless. 'Kindness IS useless,' he thought to himself. With a sigh he drew a knife from his belt and threw it into the back of the taunter's neck, pinning his throat to the tree where he gasped and gagged until Death took him. The other soldiers turned to face the Black Adder, their blades drawn and hatred in their eyes. Candor leaped from atop a log and in three quick motions released as many knives into the bellies and chest of three other soldiers, dropping them and their swords to the ground. One only remained, and when the man made as if to strike, Candor blocked his attack with one of his knives and then kicked the sword out of his hand. His own attack hit home in the next instant, and the survivors of Esluna were in danger no more.

Nonix emerged from his hiding place to see Candor pulling the last of his knives from the body of one of the soldiers. He wiped it clean on the god-hunter's clothes and then concealed it beneath his own dark cloak once again.

'I have never seen such knife work in all my days,' Nonix praised him as he stepped out of the tree trunk. 'Where did you learn such methods?'

Candor did not answer, but responded with his own question, 'What are you doing here, old man?'

Nonix brushed dirt and leaves from his clothing and answered, 'Trying to live.'

He reached into the tree trunk and spoke softly, 'It is alright, Leai.'

In a moment the young woman appeared from her hiding place, her clothing torn and dirtied. She brushed spiders from her hair and stood up beside her protector. 'We have been helped once again by this kind young man,' Nonix informed her, looking somberly at the bodies upon the ground.

'Thank you, my lord,' Leai said with a graceful curtsy despite the state of her attire. She looked at him fearfully despite Nonix' words. Any man who could kill as easily as he was someone to be feared, regardless of his kind gestures toward them.

'Ah,' Nonix said, 'You have lost your sword!'

'I had need of gold after all,' Candor lied. 'So I sold it to a traveler on the road.'

'And the knives?' They are not kitchen knives,' Nonix observed.

Candor tensed as he realized that Nonix was staring at him suspiciously. He may have helped them, but the old warrior was no fool.

'You said that you were going to Alwan, isn't that correct?' Nonix asked. 'How is it that we find you here as if to be our savior - this time not merely savior of our purse, but of our lives.'

Nonix quickly backed away from his queries, however, when he saw the tenseness in Candor's expression. It looked to the old man as if the youth was ready to cut both of their throats that very instant. Indeed, that is precisely the course of action Candor was at that moment considering. He had been too careless thus far. He did not want to see the girl come to ruin, and so he had forsaken the Magic Tower's principles and acted in sympathy with a foreigner - which was much the same as acting against the people of his own land, with whom he ought to sympathize. He could kill them both and carry on as though it had never happened, and he would have learned a valuable lesson from the whole ordeal. But, he could kill them at any time, he decided - he might as well leave them and forget about them.

But there were those eyes.

There was something about this young woman's dark brown eyes that seemed to render even a killer from Lapulia gentle and giving. He could not bring himself to remove the sparkle therefrom with the stroke of a blade. For a moment, as he stared at the young woman, he thought he might forsake everything; the Magic Tower, the Star Seers and Lapulia itself to become the defender of those bright round eyes. 'Poison,' he thought to himself.

'Pay my questions no heed,' Nonix said, shaking his head as if to drive them from his mind. 'You have been kind to us, and I have no right to pry into your own affairs. We had hoped to find peace in Ilvas, and a refuge from the god-hunters, but I see now that they are more welcome in the lands of Lord Dalta than are we. We must find somewhere else to dwell.'

'Where will you go?' Candor asked, fearful that they might carry the report of him to other lands.

'There is a camp,' Nonix said, 'belonging to a group of outcasts - enemies of the god-hunters. If the elves of Bel Albor are altogether allied with the Lord of Morarta, then perhaps we should go to their enemies.'

'Where is this camp?' Candor asked.

'It is a day's ride north of here, according to the men who lay slain at our feet,' Nonix answered.

'Do they speak truthfully?' Candor said, suspicious of the words of such men.

'Dead men do not lie,' Nonix jested. 'Besides, they did not know we were here when they spoke. So I believe their report.'

'My path lies to the north as well,' Candor said, looking at the gentle curve of Leai's chin. He really hoped that he would not have to kill them - a thought that disturbed him greatly. What was happening to him?

'Poison,' he thought again.

'We would be glad of your company, then,' Nonix said kindly as he gathered what little the two possessed, 'for as long as our paths remain one and the same.'

Candor said nothing, but gathered up his own belongings and began making his way north from the Goblin Wall.
[Chapter VI:  
Discourses](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Golden Woods

North of Ilvas was a land dominated by the unknown. Goblins lived in this region, but they were for the most part a timid breed, avoiding the habitations of men. Even in summer the air was crisp and cold, and in winter the whole land seemed to freeze solid. As the survivors of Esluna and their strange new companion made their way north it was not an uncommon sight to see snow upon the ground, as if the winter had forgotten to release the land from its spell as it departed.

The trees that grew to the north of Ilvas were mostly of a kind unknown to Tel Arie. They had thick ruddy trunks and bright green leaves, the buds of which, however, were a deep yellow. For this reason the woods of the north were called, among those who dared to travel beyond the Goblin Wall, the Golden Woods.

It was under the leaves of these trees that the survivors now traveled. Nonix led the way northward, stopping to rest once every hour. There were no paths in that land, and it was impossible to tell how long they would be traveling through the woods. 'Do you hunt?' Nonix asked when they stopped for a rest just before the evening. 'I am afraid we lost most of our provisions when we fled from the god-hunters.'

'I have hunted before,' Candor said honestly, although most of his prey had been human and not animal.

Nonix sighed. 'We may need to hunt if we do not find this camp. Even if we do find it,' he corrected himself, 'we may need to hunt.'

Leai looked uneasy at the thought of hunting, but Nonix paid it little mind.

'We cannot be sure that we will find welcome among these outcasts,' Nonix said. 'We are outcasts ourselves, but that does not mean that they will be friendly any more than it means that Lord Pelas and Agonas will be be friendly simply because they are both elves.'

'I can hunt - an animal, if need requires it,' Candor said, trying to conceal how unnatural he had sounded when he added the words 'an animal' to his response.

'That is very good,' Nonix said, his voice revealing his weariness. 'I am afraid that I do not have the joints for hunting any more. If my knees did not buckle, they would surely creak, and frighten my prey.'

They marched on well into the twilight, stopping to camp only after Nonix nearly tripped down a steep slope into a little valley. 'It is too dark,' he said, panting as Candor pulled him to his feet. 'We will search for this camp on the morrow.'

They made camp and ate a meager meal of stale bread. Leai offered Candor a piece of cheese, but the Black Adder refused it, saying that he had provisions of his own. In truth he did not want her to go hungry for his sake. 'Poison,' he thought to himself once again. If he was going to kill her, it would be foolish to let her consume food he might need.

'What did the god-hunters do to your people?' Leai asked him when the dark night had fully overtaken them. Nonix lay staring at the stars for a few moments before sleep overtook his tired body.

'They did nothing to my people,' Candor said shortly.

'But you slew them so mercilessly,' she pressed him, 'surely they must have wronged you in some manner.'

'I slew them because they stole something from me. I stole it back while I was in Ilvas, but I will not lose it again.' He could not imagine what had come over him to make him say even that much of his mission aloud.

Nonix, apparently not quite asleep, stirred slightly, and raised himself upon one elbow, sternly asking, 'Who are your people? They must be from Sunlan, since the god-hunters do not invade people in Ilvas without the leave of Lord Dalta.'

'My people are a small people; we live very far from here,' Candor answered, lying about the number of his race, but speaking the truth about their distance from Ilvas.

'But what would they steal? They burned everything in Esluna,' Leai said. 'They left the gold to be looted by strangers and wanderers. They kill people; they do not care for treasures.'

'The only thing that the god-hunters are said to collect are scrolls and books,' Nonix explained.

Candor's face held no expression, by which Nonix could tell that he was once again uneasy.

'Do your people have many gods?' Leai asked him. 'Nonix told me that the god-hunters destroyed Esluna because we pray to the gods of Sunlan, and to Evnai the Mother.'

'No,' Candor said plainly.

'Then you are of the Essenes,' she said, nodding at her guess as if it were the only remaining possibility.

'I am not,' Candor said, suddenly realizing that a better course would have been to pretend that her guess was correct. But there was something in her eyes that made it difficult for him to lie. 'I am not of the Essenes.'

'But who else has only one god?' Leai asked.

Nonix seemed to have fallen asleep again, and she sat in silence, puzzled by what their new companion had said.

'My home was founded by a prophet named Lapu,' Candor explained, speaking vaguely of Lapulia's history - against his better judgment. 'He told ten-thousand men that the Dragon Thaeton was coming to unmake the world, and that they must bring him a virgin every day to be sacrificed in order to save themselves and the world.

'This madman reigned for sixty years, and left behind him an elaborate religion with priests and scriptures and gods and goddesses. But when he died there was found an old copy of his writings, and upon one passage where the scriptures said, 'The gods sang to the stars,' his old copy read, 'The gods sang to the waters of the sea.'

Leai looked at him in confusion.

'Did the gods correct, not only his papers, but the history of the world as well? Did they sing to the stars or to the waters, and which did they inspire him to write?'

Leai did not know what to think of what he was saying.

Nonix opened his eyes slightly, but remained silent.

Candor continued, 'So much blood,' he said with a pause. So many lives ruined, all for this mad man's whims. His doctrines were banned, his teachings forbidden, but his books were not burned.' Candor lay great emphasis on those last words. 'They were put in a shrine where every man, woman or child could see them, and see how he altered his scriptures, thus proving himself to be a false prophet.'

'What god, then, do you serve, if your people abandoned this false teacher?' Leai asked innocently.

'We serve no gods,' he said quietly.

Nonix stirred slightly, apparently readying himself for combat, should the circumstance require it.

Candor did not move; he knew that he had nothing to fear from the old man.

'You are one of the god-hunters, then?' Leai asked in horror, clutching at the front of her dress as though she might need it for a shield. In her beautiful eyes was complete bewilderment. She had heard of no one save for the god-hunters who forbid people the worship of gods.

'In my home, perhaps,' Candor said honestly, 'I might be called upon to oppose the so-called messengers of the gods. But I am not home; I have come here for another reason, and I have no interest in these god-hunters, nor with the religions of Bel Albor.'

The disgust he saw in her eyes cut him to the heart, and he hated himself for his weakness. 'She knows nothing of the world and of the horrors that such madmen can bring,' he thought to himself.

'How, then,' Leai asked him, 'was the world created?'

'It was created the same way everything else is created; by those causes that precede them. Our Star-' Candor stopped himself suddenly. Mentioning the Star-Seers, even to a Lapulian, was a crime worthy of death. 'We have men who have made calculations,' he said dryly.

'Calculations?' Nonix laughed, easing his tired body back to the ground.

'They have some idea about how the world came to be such as it is, and we have no reason to doubt them. Everything can be reduced to the materials of the world, and everything can be made from them. The gods also, can be explained, such as they are. Fancy, lust, dreams and ale - these are the four grandparents of the gods and goddesses of Tel-' he stopped himself suddenly. 'of Bel Albor.'

'Well I think that is a horrible way to see things,' Leai said, very obviously disturbed by what she was hearing. 'Why don't you kill us, then, and do the world a favor? Or perhaps you are going to wait until you reach the camp and kill all the mad fanatics.'

'I did not come here to kill them,' Candor said sternly, though he would kill them - all of them - if he needed. He would even kill Leai and Nonix if the need arose. At it stood, however, he was not sure that there would be anyone for him to kill in the end. If Loyal was still living, then he would have sent word to Lapulia by now; and if the Black Adder who guarded the Star Seer were slain, then there would be nothing to save the Seer from a very quick death. Surely, if any man happened upon one of those sorry creatures he would be driven to murder him as much out of pity as out of fear.

Leai laid herself down to sleep, not sure whether she was truly safe with this stranger, whether he had saved them or not.

Candor watched the fire, wrestling within himself between his compassion for the girl and with his mission. He knew which motive would win in the end, if circumstances required it.

Death Shall Fail

'Who do these sorry souls go to meet in the North?' Death asked, standing unseen in the air above their campsite, his black robes motionless despite a brisk wind that blew through the forest rustling the trees.

His brother Folly sat upon a tree branch nearby, though he might just as easily have stood upon the air with his dark sibling. 'They go to meet him; he who will give his name to the Nameless.'

'You speak of the Hidden Name?' Sleep asked from far below. He stood upon the ground beside the sleepers, gently laying their tired eyes to rest. Candor resisted him for a time, but in the end he relented, and lay himself down to an uneasy rest. Sleep, however, remained in the camp, speaking up into the trees to his brothers without lifting his eyes or raising his voice. In truth, he could have been in Kharku and they would have heard him all the same. And, of course, in some sense he was indeed also in Kharku.

'The Hidden Name?' Death said, only the slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

'It is the time,' Folly answered. 'It is time for your cold steel blade to fail, brother!' Folly gloated.

'There shall come a day, brother,' Death said coldly, 'when your own power shall fail as well.'

'And in that day shall the world, properly so called, fail altogether,' Folly answered. 'For Folly is the root of Wisdom.'

'Do not go too far,' Sleep warned.

'You know that I cannot go to far,' Folly said. 'I may speak in a way that is misunderstood, but I cannot speak falsehoods.'

'I am not altogether convinced that there is a difference between the two, brother,' Sleep said calmly.

'Well,' Folly said defensively, 'I grant to you that it seems unseemly to speak the truth in such a way as to deceive, but men and spirits are so prone to Folly that one could not speak at all if they had to be certain they would be received in the proper way every time they spoke.'

'If Folly is truly as vital to the world as you say, then you win even when you lose, brother,' Sleep complained.

'Do not resent me, brother, it is not I who has ordained things to be so,' Folly said. 'But the greatest Wisdom involves the greatest contradictions. Indeed, to be and not be cannot be distinguished from one another, since pure being, like pure nothingness, has no qualities.'

After a long while had passed, Leai sat up slightly and looked around the camp. Nonix was sound asleep, but Candor sat staring motionless at the sky. His uneasiness had apparently won out against the power of Sleep in the end. She wondered what he was thinking about. 'Candor?' she asked softly.

The Black Adder looked at her, surprised to see that she was yet awake.

'You speak of things that can be seen when you say that all things are material and have material for their causes,' she said. But if the gods are the makers of material, as indeed we are taught, then wherein can you deny them simply from the fact that all you see is material? If we said that they were material, like unto other things, then you could, from not seeing them, deny them. But no one teaches this! What do you and your people deny then?'

Candor thought for a while and then answered, 'We do not deny anything. We simply do not know. That which can be perceived is all that we can know, and only the opposite can be denied. But gods and goddesses cannot by their very nature be perceived, so we do not know them, and we find all such belief to be dangerous pretense.

'And is not the banning and forbidding dangerous as well?' Leai asked.

'Not as dangerous,' Candor answered firmly, 'as permitting superstitious beliefs to reign over society.'

'I speak not of society,' Leai protested. 'I am speaking of the truth. If the truth were bad for society, then it would still be the truth nonetheless. Doubt the gods; but to slay and forbid their followers because you don't know, and because it is bad for society...!'

'I am not a god-hunter,' Candor said defensively, though he knew that there were such men among the Lapulians - not god-hunters by name, of course, but god-hunters in deed.

'What you do may not be dangerous to the society,' Leai said, 'but it is dangerous to the truth. For you prevent men from believing in that which may very well be true, for all you know - and you have admitted that you do not know. Indeed, you seem to think that you cannot know. Thus you cannot know whether you sin against the truth even as you do right by society. This is blindness.'

Candor leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. The stars shone down on his head. 'I am not here to hunt gods,' he protested, not wishing to think any deeper on such things.

The Teachings of Theodysus

'He does not yet know how deeply he will become entangled in the things that are about to happen,' Sleep said sadly as he, more forcefully this time, sent the campers into a slumber. 'This too is your work, brother,' he said to Folly.

'Is it not a fine jest,' he said to his brothers, 'that men think they know more of the past than of the future, when in truth their memory can be just as clouded as their expectation? And when both the past and the future are, in themselves, as clear as the present, being distinguished from this most certain of states only by perspective, then the joke becomes complete.'

'It seems a cruel jest, brother,' Sleep said. 'But cruelty is folly also, I suppose.'

'I tell you the truth, brother Sleep,' Folly said in a moment of sincerity, 'you cannot have wisdom without Folly.'

'You refer to the birth of the Dragon,' Death said.

'Nay, I speak of his death. But for one such as he, death is a birth and birth is a death.'

'Again you speak nonsense,' Sleep complained.

'What is sense without nonsense?' Folly replied.

'Please brother,' Sleep said, his tired voice for a moment losing all signs of weariness, 'for once speak clearly. Speak the truth, but speak it to our ears.'

'The one who will give his name to the Nameless, he will speak the truth about the Dragon, and thereby unmake him. I will say no more about the Dragon. I would not dare to usurp that which is his right, and that about which I only know because I have received it from him in the first place.'

'Tomorrow these travelers will find the camp of Theodysus, and they will find welcome there for but a short time. Tell us, brother, what are we to expect. Time comes to a point, and we would know what will come to pass.'

'I have already told you,' Folly said. 'The Great Dragon, whose might has torn the world asunder and remade it a thousand times, will be unmade.'

'But how?' Death said. 'I am the slayer of all things that live and breathe; how is it that you know what I do not know concerning his end?'

'He will be slain, brother Death,' Folly said, 'but not by Death-steel. One word - one little word shall fell him.'

'You are speaking of the teachings?' Sleep said. 'You are speaking of Theodysus.'

'He was born into this world with the doctrine of the Hidden Name upon his lips. And the doctrine will bear his name for as long as the world endures.'

'What are these teachings,' Sleep asked, 'that you seem to be so excited to hear? If you know them not, then why the excitement? If you know them, what need have we to hear them?'

'They are unknown as yet, but known to all,' Folly replied.

'How is such a thing possible?' Sleep complained. 'For it would seem that if they were known, then they could not be unknown.'

'It is on the surface only that things are so limited,' Folly answered. 'When things are considered as they are, they make sense. When they are considered as they appear, they also make sense. But when the appearance is taken along with the thing, then they cease to make sense. But it is only when the two are taken together that they are, truly, the truth.'

'You will have to explain things better than that, dear brother,' Sleep complained, irritated that it was to Folly that the deep wisdom had come.

'You wish to hear the doctrine of Theodysus? Go and see him, and then you will know it!'

'We shall, but we would have you speak it all clearly to us, and in order,' Sleep said patiently.

'Very well,' Folly laughed, amused by the frustration of his brothers. He held his hand out toward his brothers - the three of them were now seated around the fire, though they would have seen what he did just as clearly wherever they were standing. Upon his empty palm appeared a small cube, carved and painted on all of its sides with strange runes and figures.

'What is this?' he asked.

'Do not mock us,' Death warned. 'It is a die.'

Folly swallowed and looked nervously at his brothers before continuing. He let the cube slide down his fingers and then, just before it fell off his hand he flicked it up into the air. Before it landed in his hand, however, it stopped in the air. There it stood as if suspended upon a string, spinning as though it were still in its descent.

'And so is this?' he asked, hoping they would not be angered by the simplicity of his question. They nodded. 'But if this, which stands still and this which spins are both dice, wherein is the dice? Is it in the markings? Is it in the runes? I can change anything - even the shape, and it will yet be a die?

'Consider the die as it rests upon my hand. What figures face the stars? It is a lion, and the rune for the number fifty such as it is used by the people of Lapulia. Now I cast it - and lo, it is now the Dragon, and the rune for nothing. Wherein are the die the same? I do not mean to ask, as I did before, how two dice are one thing, though they are two. I ask now wherein is this die the very die that I cast? For the one contradicts the other, the first showing the lion, and the second showing the Dragon. But a thing is not the same if it is not the same. But yet I cast only one die.

'A die is only a die if it can be cast, but what thing can be cast without losing itself to contradiction? When the die is such and later different, what remains?'

'All that remains the same, when things endure through time, is the name. The word "die" is that which binds the die and the die cast, and the die as it comes to rest. Everything else alters and contradicts. But understanding is union, not disunion, and so it is only when the chaos of experience is brought under the power of a name that it bears the form in which we know it. The die in my hand cannot become the die elsewhere, for then it would be opposed to itself. But the name by its nature encompasses both, and so it is not the die, but the name that endures. The name is the being of the thing.

'This is true when I consider the die, not only as it changes in time, but also as I consider its form. If I rest my finger upon the Dragon's tail, I can then say that I am touching the Dragon. But I am more than my finger, and the Dragon is more than its tail - nay, it is not a Dragon at all but for that which I touch not. And I am not a man except for that which touches not. I touch the Dragon only in name.

'Things have their being in their names, for being itself, also, is but a name. Nothing can be different from another thing unless they have some contradiction between them. But no two things are the same, and so it is only in the name that two things can, despite their manifold differences, both "be".

'To understand a thing is to give it a name. If I asked you what a thing is, your answer would always, if it is to truly give me understanding, be a more general thing. What is a deer? If you answer that it is any specific deer, then I will think of that deer and not the others that contradict it, and so I will not truly understand the creatures. But if you answer me more generally, saying, a deer is an animal, then and then only will I understand. For that is what understanding is - the name stands under the thing, and is its being and substance.

'To understand all things is to understand Being itself, which is the name given to all things. But things are not things outside of the name, and so the origin and father of all things is being. And being is expressed in the little word "is", which is a name for all truth. For what is not, cannot be true. Being, truth, "is", real, these are all names by which we comprehend this one name. But whereas all things are made understandable by this name - by the name "being" - this name cannot be understood by anything but itself, for it is the highest of all names. So everything is understood within "being", but "being" itself cannot be understood - for it IS understanding.

'The Hidden Name is the name Being, which stands under all things, both those things that extend and those things that endure. It is hidden because, standing for all things, it stands for nothing alone. This is why I said that the doctrines of Theodysus are unknown, yet known to all.

'If men did not have the truth within them, then they could never recognize it when it comes to them. If they have it, then their ignorance can only be born from the fact that they have failed to look within.'

'They do not understand because of the Dragon's blindness,' Sleep said as he nodded at Folly's teaching.

'This is why he has come,' Folly said, speaking of Theodysus. 'He will teach the Dragon, and he will uncreate him by his teachings - by teaching him the Hidden Name.'

Watching over Candor's camp, though without perceiving the spirits or their strange conversations, was the elf Ghastin. He had heard enough of their talk to learn that the travelers meant to join up with the camp of Theodysus. He knew that he could have snuck into their camp and killed them while they slept, but he was not entirely sure that he wanted such a man to perish. A man who had made a mockery and a joke of elvish power. He did not even mind the fact that he was included in this humiliation. He was so filled with resentment toward the elves and their stupidity that he fully appreciated every circumstance in which the elves' pretensions were exposed, whether it meant his own humiliation or not.

He carefully stepped away from the camp and made his way back to a small camp several leagues to the southwest. 'They are heading toward the camp of Theodysus,' he told the god-hunters.

'How did you learn this?' Eberu asked, when Ghastin had made his report. 'And you left them to escape us?'

'I am no god-hunter, master Eberu,' Ghastin growled. 'You do not give me commands, and you do not question my actions. I found your villain - a villain who slew so many without receiving a scratch, and who stole a book from the Lord of Morarta. I certainly could not hope to match him, whether waking or in sleep!'

'Taral!' Eberu shouted, shaking his head with frustration. 'Gather the god-hunters, every last one. We ride hard to the north tonight!'

'My lord,' Taral said, rushing to his master's side. 'The camp is in Goblin lands.'

'Do you now protest against your orders because they are perilous?' Eberu thundered. 'The Lord of Morarta has been mocked; Ilvas has been attacked by this man. Men have been killed for the sake of his religion. He it was who rescued the fanatic Theodysus from the dungeons of Morarta - of this I am certain!'

'What will you have me do, then, my lord?' Taral said, bowing low.

'Ride north with twelve god-hunters this very hour, and slay these fools before they break camp. I will follow at first light with a hundred men to destroy the camp of this so-called healer Theodysus. And do not hesitate because of their elderly and their women; you have heard what these men are capable of doing, and how they injured the Lord Sol of Alwan and slew so many men of Ilvas.'

It seemed to entirely escape Eberu that it was but one man, and not the men of Theodysus who had done all these things. But the circumstances surrounding the escape of the healer had been so humiliating to Eberu that the slightest opportunity he had of escaping blame was a like driftwood floating upon a treacherous sea. He grasped onto it without feeling any need to learn more or to determine whether or not the two persons were connected. Indeed, in his mind the strange intruder who blasted a hole in Ilvas' wall may very well have been Theodysus himself.
[Chapter VII:  
Loyal Friend](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Followers

The next morning Candor accompanied Nonix and Leai into the camp of the followers of Theodysus. They awoke at first light and were soon afterward on their way north, making their way through brush and bramble, up steep slopes and across frigid streams of clear water. All of this Leai endured without complaint. She did not seem perturbed by anything that they encountered; almost as if she had done all this a thousand times and was no longer surprised by anything.

In truth her mind was far from the forest and she walked on almost in a dream, thinking of her lost love and of her family in Esluna. It began to rain in the afternoon, and they were forced to take shelter beneath a great oak tree. There they shivered under their cloaks until the rain stopped, just several hours before the sun began to sink beyond the horizon. The sky cleared and they took it as a sign of better weather to come.

Nonix suffered through the journey bravely and silently, though it was clear by the look on his face that all this travel was not kind to his bones and joints. But he would sooner die than show any sign of weakness to Leai. He could not be as strong a protector as Stratix, but for Stratix' sake he must guard Leai at all costs. She was the last hope for their people, though he did not think that Esluna would ever exist again. Their blood could live on in her, however, if she could someday conquer her sorrow.

As the sun sank out of sight in the west, leaving the forest dark and gray, the travelers came across a length of twine, bound from tree to tree and set with bells and pans. Candor's brow furloughed. 'Surely this is not meant to be a defense!' he exclaimed aloud. 'If this is their protection, then we will not find security here.'

Leai made no answer. Security was not something she believed in any more. If Stratix could fail her, there was no longer any safe place in Bel Albor, or in all the world.

Nonix drew up alongside him and looked at the twine. 'It would give them a few moments - enough perhaps for their women and children to flee.'

Candor sniffed the air carefully. 'There is something cooking at least,' he said. 'We may not need to hunt after all.'

He stepped over the twine and walked quietly toward the northeast. The others followed him along a small trail until several tents came within sight. Suddenly four young men leaped out with short swords pointing nervously at them. So harmless did they appear before the old warrior Nonix and the deadly Black Adder that even Leai did not seem to fear them. 'Young man,' Nonix said confidently. 'We are not enemies.'

'Are you god-hunters?' one of the young men asked nervously.

'If we were, do you think we would have come upon you in this manner?' Nonix asked.

'If we were god-hunters,' Candor added, looking at their defenses, 'you would already be dead.'

'There are worse fates,' the youth answered quickly, but nervously.

'Who are you?' Nonix asked.

'We are of Theodysus,' the youth answered, 'I am Yulin.'

'Well, Yulin,' Nonix said firmly, 'if you are not the leader here, then I ask that you bring me to someone who can deal with us.'

This stern and forward tone seemed to shake the young man more than he had already been shaken. He looked back and forth between the strangers several times before running off to the east toward a group of tents.

The camp of the followers of Theodysus sprawled through the forest without any sense of intention. It was almost as if the people had walked until they were exhausted and then dropped their tents where they lay. None of the tents were of the same make, though some were of the same material. Some were simply cloth sheets tied to the ground with a fallen tree for a spine. Others seemed large enough to fit whole families, and some even seemed to have been made by craftsmen. A couple tents were of the sort the Sunlan soldiers used when they were sent far from Centan.

In a short time a tall man of about thirty appeared, wearing a long brown robe, followed by a man of average height and about the same age in a plain white shirt and brown trousers. At the side of the latter man hung a long hunting knife and in his hand was a staff. The first man had a long knife in his hand. Candor eyed them both cautiously.

'You need not fear us, Candor Proud,' the shorter man said in a kind voice. 'We do not seek rewards, but that does not stop us from giving them when they are due. You are welcome in this camp.' He spread his arms wide as if to show that everything in sight belonged to the new visitors.

Candor's brows came to a point as he considered this strange man and his even stranger words. A very small part of him thought he should draw out his Firesling and make an end of this man and as many of his strange followers as he could. For some reason he thought that this was precisely what the Tower would want of him. But even as he considered this course of action he began to feel as though he would not be able to do it. This latter thought troubled him greatly. How the man knew his name was beyond his reckoning.

While he pondered these things the man turned his attention to Nonix and said, 'You are welcome here as well, Nonix and Leai; the sorrows of Esluna follow you here, and we will help you bear the burden thereof. We cannot change what has happened. Be comforted, though, for although time will fail to remove them, there is one who is able to remove even time.'

'I don't,' Candor began, before Nonix could speak. 'I don't understand. How do you know my name? Who are you?'

The man extended his palm toward Candor and said, 'I am Theodysus.'

Candor shook his head, 'Why should I be deserving of any honor from you?'

'It was you that freed me from Morarta,' Theodysus replied. 'The good that will come, will come; but blessed is he who brings it.'

'These men are not of us?' the taller man protested.

'Fret not, Hearthon,' Theodysus said with a smile. 'it is those who are not of us who must be brought in. Otherwise, what do we do here?'

Theodysus turned once more to Candor and spoke, 'Keep your eyes open, friend. What has been seen has been seen, and be it whatsoever you will, there is no compulsion laid upon the future.'

The two men then turned and walked back toward the center of the camp, if any portion of it could truly be called the center. Hearthon followed hard upon Theodysus' steps as if he were ready to do as he was commanded at any moment. He did not quite seem happy about it, however.

Loyal's Tale

Candor and the others were brought a cloth tent and some rope and told that they could set their tent wherever they pleased. 'You will be safe here,' Yulin assured them as he handed them a sack full of dried fruit and meat.

Candor looked at him and could not suppress a laugh.

Nonix took to setting up the tent almost as soon as Yulin had left them. Leai hungrily took hold of the sack and started digging through the food. She took up an apple and took a bite, holding it in her teeth while she took more food out. She handed a bright red apple to Candor with a smile.

'What will they expect of us, I wonder?' Nonix said, mirroring Candor's suspicions.

'Something,' Candor answered. 'You can count on it.'

Leai took another bite and laughed at their suspicions. Nonix smiled too; he would keep his eyes open, but it was good to see her in a happy spirit for once.

When they had finished setting up a small camp they were approached by a group of six young maidens, who asked for 'the girl' and brought Leai away to be washed and fed properly. 'You men can eat out of the sack,' they laughed merrily.

'What madness rules over this camp?' Candor said to the older man. 'I have not seen its like before.'

'Neither have I,' Nonix affirmed. 'My father used to take me to the market fair in Esluna every summer. He showed me many things that were sold for copper coins, but every one of them was worth less than that. Things are not always as they seem; but if they seem to be too good a bargain, then they are just the opposite. You will pay in the end.'

'Wise counsel,' Candor said.

Some time later the girls returned with Leai, dressed in a plain brown dress without any tatters or rips. Her hair had been combed and her beauty shone out of her plain attire like a star in the black night sky. Candor could scarcely keep his eyes off of her face, but when he saw Nonix watching him he made as if he were staring at something beyond her. Indeed, at that very moment he saw someone that he recognized.

'Loyal?' he said, rising from his seat. Leai looked at him in confusion for a moment until she realized that he was speaking to another.

The man who approached them wore a bright white shirt and plain grey pants. His hair was grown long and he had the beginnings of a beard upon his chin. Candor realized as he approached that he had misstepped, speaking his name and revealing that they were acquaintances. But nothing about Loyal's demeanor even hinted that he had made any kind of mistake.

'Candor Proud,' Loyal said, a tear built up in his eye and he fought to contain it. 'You ride upon a black steed, my brother.'

Candor looked at him with confusion and alarm. 'Loyal,' he began, 'what happened? No, we must speak elsewhere. But how are you?'

'I am good,' he said with a grin, 'but I am not always doing good.' He laughed.

Candor wanted to ask him why he said he rode upon a black steed - among the Lapulians this was an expression that meant 'death-bringer'. This could only mean that Loyal had abandoned his mission entirely. But that was something he could not accept - not until he had spoken with Loyal openly.

'We MUST speak, brother,' Candor said, working hard to get that last word to sound natural.

Loyal's face turned grim for a moment and a shadow seemed to pass over his otherwise happy demeanor. He shut his eyes and nodded, breathing carefully through his nostrils. 'Very well,' he said. 'I had hoped,' he began to say, but he seemed to change his mind. 'I, I understand. Learning is not a miracle; you cannot become a master before you are a pupil. I understand.'

This only confused Candor more. He spread his arm out toward the west, indicating that it was time for them to speak. The fire in his eyes showed that it was urgent.

Loyal smiled and said, 'Of course.' But however much he seemed to indicate that he understood, he did not seem to be treating this as Tower business at all. Anything that had to do with the Black Adder, the Magic Tower or Lapulia general was important, and not something to smile at. 'What happened to you, Loyal?' he wanted to ask.

The two started in to the western woods, heading toward the string fence that 'protected' the whole encampment. Before Loyal left the others he turned and looked Leai in the eyes, the tear dripped down his cheek, having won the battle against his resolve. He said in a loud voice, 'Do not expect to see me again. I have business in another land, and I must leave this place at once. I should have liked to know all of you. Perhaps we will meet again.'

'Farewell,' Leai said with surprise. 'I hope we shall meet again,' she repeated this politely, though she was not entirely certain that she spoke the truth.

Nonix nodded and watched the man suspiciously. 'Everything is strange with these people,' he muttered when they had left.

'Where is the Star Seer?' Candor asked firmly when at last they were well away from the camp.

'Be my friend for a moment, Candor Proud,' Loyal said, pleading as he brushed his long hair out of his face. He sat weakly upon a log and looked up at his fellow Black Adder. 'Just for a moment, at least. I shall be your friend forever, Candor, no matter what comes to pass.'

There was an unmistakable pain in Loyal's eyes, but also a clarity and resolve.

'I am your friend,' Candor said, his voice wavering with emotion. He did not expect to feel this way at all. He was slowly coming to believe that he would have to kill his friend. His body stood still and tense, like a cat prepared to pounce upon its prey.

Loyal looked nervous, but he managed to drive away fear somehow. This made Candor all the more cautious, since a Black Adder who looked at ease was very rarely what he appeared to be.

'Tell me what happened,' Candor said.

Loyal looked at his feet for a moment, and then looked up at Candor, 'The Star Seer predicted the fall of the Tower, Candor.'

Candor stepped back in amazement at those words. It was not as though this had never happened before, but it was usually given as a warning, and not as a prediction. 'What do you mean? What did he recommend?'

'Resignation,' Loyal answered with a shrug. 'There is nothing that can be done.'

Candor's face grew pale as he thought about the end of the Magic Tower, which in his mind at least, had been the protector of humanity for many ages. He was also filled with fear because of the ancient prophecy that it would be someone in his own family that would bring about this destruction.

'Is this why the Star Seer fell silent? If you killed him for speaking against the Tower, why did you not return?' Candor asked, as if he were asking about the cost of raising pigs.

'I did not kill him, Candor,' Loyal said, as if he were revealing something quite shameful. 'He is alive and well, for now - at least, he is as well as one in his state can be.'

'What happened to the others? What happened to the other Black Adder? Fervor Shenn and Grent Honor were with you, were they not?'

'They were,' he said coldly.

'Loyal, tell me what happened,' Candor pleaded. 'I am your friend.'

Loyal looked at him doubtfully, but answered, 'I know, Candor. But that does not change what you are - what WE are.'

'What are we?' Candor asked.

'We are men, Candor,' Loyal replied slowly. 'But we were raised Black Adder. I know what that means.'

'You are still speaking nonsense, brother,' Candor said with frustration. 'Have these fanatics taught your tongue to spin like a top?'

Loyal sniffed, 'You are not far from the truth; but you are not close enough, yet.'

'Then tell me, Loyal. What is happening here?' Candor's voice was very nearly pleading.

'Before we fell silent, we sent several messages to the Magic Tower. I apprehend that those messages and our pursuant silence is what brought you to the north. But we could not send any more messages, for we knew that it would mean our deaths. We were not quite afraid of this, however. The Black Adder do not fear Death, as you know.'

'But what happened to the others? To Fervor and Grent?' Candor interrupted.

'I speak as if we were all of one accord in this matter, Candor,' he said gravely. 'But I was opposed to their decision, and our opposition grew to be more than a disagreement of words. We came to blows, and I slew them both.'

Candor's eyes widened and for a moment he was hopeful that this meant that his friend had not in fact abandoned the designs of the Tower. It was not unacceptable, after all, for a Black Adder to hide themselves by assuming the customs and professions of those among whom they dwelt.

But Loyal continued, 'That is how I felt at first. But when it came to the Star Seer, I could no longer bear my knives in my hand. I could not kill him, though it was what the Tower desired and though it would have been a favor to him.'

'Why not?' Candor asked in amazement. The Black Adder were expected to be able to kill their own parents on a whim if it were asked of them by the Tower. The survival of mankind's protector was more important than any single human life.

'Because the blade seemed to burn in my hand, and whatever the cause, I could not wield my knives again, except to hunt or to work.'

'What else did the Star Seer say?' Candor asked nervously.

'He spoke of the unmaking of the Dragon,' Loyal said.

'Thaeton?' Candor asked incredulously. 'But that is only a legend!'

'That is why he must be unmade, Candor,' Loyal answered quickly. 'Not all myths are false, brother. And no falsehood is powerless over he who hearkens to it.'

'What else did he say?' Candor said, his hands now moving slowly toward his knives.

'He said what has been said before, Candor, that your kin would conspire against the Tower, and overthrow it. That through the family of Captain Proud would come the salvation and destruction of the Magic City of Lapulia. He spoke of flying devils and a sickly wind. He spoke of the end of all things. But not yet. There is another age of the world that must pass first.'

'Then what help are these things to us, who shall not live to see them?'

'Do not look to prophecies to see what will come to pass. For surely, they will come to pass only for those who live to see them. Look to see what the prophet has seen. That is where the truth will lie.'

'What has this,' Candor stumbled over the word, 'prophet seen?'

'He has seen Theodysus shining like the stars of heaven. He has seen it in the stars themselves, and felt it in the wind.'

'I will not act against the Tower, Loyal,' Candor said, his nostrils beginning to flare with rage. 'I do not know what has bewitched you, but you have forsaken us. You have betrayed us all!'

'I have given them no secrets,' Loyal said defensively, but unafraid. 'They know nothing of the Magic City and its plots and plans. Only Theodysus knows about the Star Seer.'

'You spoke of the Star Seer!?' Candor said in horror. To speak of those sorry agents of the Magi to a stranger was a crime punishable by death. His hand drew nearer to his knives.

'You are not yet ready to accept your destiny, Candor,' Loyal said sorrowfully. 'But that does not alter it. I was not able to accept it either, and therefore I have the blood of our countrymen upon my hands. I have too much blood upon my hands.' Loyal looked sadly upon his fingers as if the blood were truly still there upon his palm.

'You know that I cannot ignore this,' Candor said fiercely.

'I know, and I accept it. But listen to me Candor,' Loyal said firmly. 'I forgive you. I forgive you for what you must do. Know that; it will pain you for a time, but let time heal you. I forgive you.'

Candor stepped back, ready to leap at any moment. But before he attacked Loyal said, 'One last thing, Candor.' He raised his finger, pleading for another moment.

Candor looked at him coldly, all signs of friendship seemed to have bled from his face.

'By my words I have accused the Star Seer, but no man of Lapulia should be slain without either a direct order from the High Mage or one of the Black Adder, or without the slayer having heard the confession himself. Speak with him before you strike. You owe him that much according to the laws of our city.'

'My city,' Candor hissed, his fingers shaking with rage.

He leaped forward, throwing his knife straight at Loyal's heart.

But Loyal rolled aside and caught the knife in his hand, raising it just in time to block Candor's next blow.

Candor looked at him in amazement for an instant, and then redoubled his efforts. He had truly started to believe that Loyal was just going to let him kill him without a struggle. Candor struck at him again and Loyal grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulders, but Candor took hold of his head as he flew and pulled Loyal to the ground with him. There upon the dirt and rotting leaves they grappled, Candor trying desperately to find a home for his blade.

Loyal grabbed Candor's throat and flung him onto his stomach, twisting his arm behind his back. He put his knife to Candor's throat and said, 'I have done this, brother, so that you will know that my life is truly given to you. I have the power to keep it, yet I give it up so that you might live.'

Candor struggled in vain against his old friend, trying with all his might to free himself and make an end of this enemy of Lapulia. But in the end he could do nothing. Tears threatened to drop from his eyes as everything from Leai's beauty and the child in Evnai Port, to Morarta and the god-hunters passed through his mind in a flash.

Loyal rose to his feet and threw the dagger to the ground where its point stuck just between Candor's first and second fingers. 'Remember, Candor Proud,' Loyal said tearfully. 'I forgive you.'

Candor did not even remember striking. He was so filled with wrath and rage that he lost all sense of where he was or what he was doing. But in an instant Loyal lay dead upon the ground, his blood spilling out from a clean and deep wound in his throat.

Candor shook and stormed away, tears streaming from his face.

It was not at all like a Black Adder to weep, but he was not entirely certain that he was worthy to be a Black Adder after all that had hitherto transpired. He had blundered in Evnai, he had blundered in Morarta and he had blundered in taking up with the refugees of Esluna. 'Poison!' he spat as he thundered back to the camp. He would not make any more mistakes. He would find the Star Seer and kill him. The law may require him to listen to the sad creature's defense, but there was no excuse for what the Seer had done - regardless of the answer he would kill him. Then he would simply vanish, and never see or be seen by these stupid, superstitious fools again. The beauty of Leai's eyes flashed in his mind for a moment, weakening his resolve. 'Poison!'

In his heart there were equal parts sorrow and anger, and he fought with everything within his being to make the anger win out.

The Star Seer

By the time Candor had returned to the camp of Theodysus, stepping over their alarm without giving it a second thought, it was very nearly dark. 'Is that why you said farewell?' he thought to himself, remembering Loyal's words. 'Did he know what was going to happen when we left?' He was a Black Adder too, Candor remembered; he certainly must have known.

He did not seek out Nonix and Leai, however. He would not be good company in his current state of mind, and he was starting to fear Leai's beauty as if it truly were a poison. He was also afraid that the enchantment it seemed to have over him would so frustrate him that he would feel compelled to harm her. 'Poison, indeed,' he thought bitterly. He had not meant to allow anything to get between he and his devotion to the Tower. But there he was, torn between the last, best hope for mankind's safety and survival and a pair of dark brown eyes. He shut his eyes and thought back to his time in Lapulia's Tower and all that he had learned therein. He fell into a deep and troubled sleep, but awoke when he heard the voice of the man called Theodysus saying, 'It is only the truly guilty who can be forgiven.'

He awoke with a start to find that it was already mid-day. He looked about and saw that the camp had been abandoned first thing in the morning. The tent where Leai and Nonix had slept was gone, but Leai was still nearby, now dressed in a plain white dress with a dark green belt tied about her waist. She was seated upon a fallen tree and seemed to be waiting patiently for something - Candor guessed that she was waiting for Nonix.

Candor rose as if taken by a spell and walked over to her. A small voice within him seemed to be screaming that he should kill her before she destroys him. But instead he sat beside her and said, 'You look, beautiful today.'

She looked down at the ground and said, 'You are very kind.'

He shook himself as if he were waking from slumber a second time. 'Where is everyone?' he asked, trying to pretend that he had not just said what he seemed to recall saying. He looked doubtfully at his hands and suddenly thought that he knew how Loyal had felt. His hands were unworthy even to be in the presence of such a beautiful creature, he thought.

'The camp has moved on,' she said quietly. 'We were waiting for you to return. Nonix did not- We did not think it would be right to leave you behind.'

'You are very kind,' he said, repeating her words.

'How is your friend?' she asked, her innocence burning a hole in his heart.

'He is gone,' Candor said, unable to stomach a lie on top of everything else that had happened.

'It is a pity,' she said. 'He seemed to be a very kind man.'

'Kind?' Candor said, thinking about what he and Loyal had been trained to do and to be. 'Yes,' he said as he considered the way his friend had died. 'He was kind.'

'Where is the old man?' Candor said, remembering that these fools were not his friends - his only friend was Lapulia.

'He will be back shortly,' Leai answered, and almost as if in response to his question they heard Nonix coming, stamping through the woods carelessly.

After exchanging a word of greeting the three of them turned toward the north and, hoisting their bundles over their shoulders, followed the trail left by the followers of Theodysus.

Candor's mind, however, was resting upon the Star Seer, and it was, in truth, the Seer toward which he walked.

'Shall we follow these people? Will we remain with them?' Leai asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

'Our road is his road, for now at least,' Candor said, referring to Theodysus.

'But what of our destination?' Nonix asked him. Something in the old man's eye alarmed Candor. It was almost as though he suspected that something had changed in Candor, though the Black Adder was doing his best to conceal it.

'I do not know my destination,' Candor lied, feeling miserable for the untruth. 'Since when have I ever had difficulty lying?' he whispered to himself. What had Loyal done to him?

It was not long before they were making their way through the forest, following the trampled leaves and broken brush that marked the followers of Theodysus. They were not great woodsmen, leaving a trail along which a blind man might have felt his way without too much difficulty.

Soon the soft forest floor began to be littered with stones and boulders and the land grew steep and rough. By the time they stopped for the evening they noticed that the trees were beginning to thin, finding less soil in which to sink their roots. The air also grew colder, and a bitter wind blew down from the northern mountains.

'Is this truly where men first lived?' Leai asked.

Nonix nodded as he began to set up their tent.

'There were men elsewhere,' Candor said coldly, not caring for their superstitious legends. 'There are lands beyond the seas,' he said without emotion, 'where men lived and dwelt before anyone sailed south from Bel Albor.'

'But where did they come from?' Leai asked him, 'and how do you know this?'

Candor did not answer, he just shrugged and began helping Nonix with the tent.

The mood was unpleasant for the rest of that evening, and for most of the day that followed. For bunglers, Candor admitted to himself, the camp of Theodysus made good time through these rough lands.

Candor's mood did not improve at all that night, and he was short with Nonix and even with Leai. Her beauty drove thoughts of love and passion into his mind, and made him all the more bitter toward her. By the time night fell they were hardly able to look at one another.

Soon the trees vanished altogether and they found themselves climbing a steep rock slope littered with loose pebbles and stones, any one of which might slip beneath their feet and send them sliding down the rock face back toward the forest. There were a few places where they could see the dark stains where Theodysus' careless followers had scraped themselves. Nonix and his sore joints barely made it up the rock, but Candor made the climb with ease, helping Leai at the more difficult points. She thanked him, but it was plain that she would rather have kind words from him than what help he gave upon the rocks. 'I should be thankful he has not cast me to the bottom with the way he has been acting since we came to the people of Theodysus,' she thought to herself sadly.

After they reached the top of this rock they wound their way through the mountains, following the footsteps and refuse of the others, slowly coming to the top of a small mountain. From where they stood they could see the whole northern region of Bel Albor stretching out before them - the land that had once belonged to a man named Athann and his wife Mainalann, when mankind was yet young, before even Mount Vitiai was settled.

Darkness soon overtook them, and they found themselves looking up at a star filled sky. Nonix did not bother making a tent that night. There would be no rain, and the wind had become still as the evening approached. Candor lay down a few paces from the fire, putting a rock between his back and his fellow travelers. Nonix cooked a small stew over a fire with a few herbs and some dried meat. Candor refused to eat from their supplies. He did not owe them anything, and he did not mean to find himself indebted to them for any kindnesses.

'Do the stars truly speak?' Leai asked with wonder as she gazed upon a sky more brightly lit than any she had ever seen before.

'I do not think so,' Nonix sighed. 'I think we speak to them.'

Candor sniffed and pulled his cloak over his face.

He woke what seemed only a few moments later, surprised that he had even fallen asleep. But he was disoriented enough in that instant to recognize that he had just come from a dream. He awoke to the sound of Leai screaming. She screamed as though she were being torn to pieces by a beast, but when Candor reached her, carrying a sharp knife in both fists, he saw that she was safe.

Her eyes were fixed upon a small, broken-down stone table. It stood out upon the mountain the lone work of man to be seen for many leagues. Nature did not make that perfectly square object, and neither did nature make that which lay upon it.

Pale grey skin, wide, lidless eyes held forever open by thick pieces of glass, shriveled limbs and knotted dead toes and fingers, bound to the stone by rusted and broken chains, there lay the Star Seer of Bel Albor, crippled and in agony, but never taking its gaze from the heavens. Candor had seen the Star Seer of Lapulia, a well-fed, well-cared for and jovial creature who received whatsoever comfort it requested. But this was like nothing he had seen before. He finally understood why the ancient Mage who had created them was slain so shamefully and why his methods were abolished and forbidden in a city where nothing useful was ever discarded or prohibited.

He grew angry looking upon the creature. For a moment he thought that he should just end its life that instant, whether it had a defense for its rebellion or not.

'What is it?' Leai asked in terror. To her eyes it was some sort of devil or monstrosity, and there was very little Candor could do to comfort her.

Nonix appeared a few moments later and muttered, 'By all the gods! What is this devil?'

Though Candor knew that it was his mission to slay this creature, some part of him took offense at their revulsion. He could not lie about the creature, though, and thereby add the distaste of dishonesty to the sorrows of the creature.

'It is a Star Seer,' Candor said, looking at Leai for a moment. 'He listens to what the stars have to say to us.'

Nonix and Leai looked at him with amazement, both of their eyes opened wide. 'Who are you?' Leai asked, her voice filled with fear and suspicion.

'I am a devil and a shadow,' he said coldly. 'You had better leave; for this is what I have come to Bel Albor to do, to kill this creature.'

Nonix moved his hand to his sword hilt, but Candor shook his head. 'You are a brave warrior, old man,' he said. 'But I am a Black Adder of Lapulia; you cannot win. If I wished to kill you or the girl, you would both be dead already. If you attempt to hinder me, then I will kill you both.'

Leai broke the silence, asking, 'You are a man, Candor Proud, and no devil. I am sorry for you and for your blindness.'

Before any response could be made, however, there rose a murmur and a labored whisper from the Star Seer himself.

'Eslunana,' he said in a hoarse whisper, 'Do not trouble yourselves for me. I have seen the bearer of the Hidden Name, and I need nothing more. The seed is sown, the Tower will fall. Do not worry or trouble yourselves over me. No man can receive the hidden wisdom until it is revealed, and he cannot believe until he has been broken. There is nothing that you can do that will change what will happen. Go on, therefore, and comfort yourselves among the Enthedu. Seek out those who will be scattered. Many men and women will wander these mountains, hungry and frightened ere the end. Go, and be prepared to help them.'

Nonix removed his hand from his blade and took Leai firmly by the arm. 'Let us go,' he said. 'This is a matter that is beyond our knowledge.'

With those words they gathered their belongings and departed, passing under the light of the stars from the mountain along a gentle northward slope of stone. At the bottom of this they found the path of Theodysus and took up the pursuit.

Candor watched them for a time and when they had passed beyond hearing he turned to the Star Seer.

'What have you to say, honored one of Lapulia?' Candor asked formally.

'I have lived more lifetimes than even the elves,' the Star Seer said with a croak, 'do not insult my honor with formalities, as if I of all men did not know what you have come to do, and that there is nothing I can say that would stay your hand.'

'Then I may take that as your confession of your crimes?' Candor asked, hoping to be done with this whole matter.

'My only crime is that I have spoken the truth,' the Seer answered. 'I have watched these skies for thousands of years, and all calculations have brought me to this: from Theodysus shall rise the ones who will, with words, bring an end to the Magic Tower.'

'With words?' Candor said incredulously. 'What can be done about it? How can this be prevented? Lapulia has not maintained and preserved the Star Seers through all these ages for knowledge, but rather for aid. Help us now, who have for all these years guarded and fed your flesh.'

'The old word that I sent to Lapulia in the days of your forefather spoke also of Lapulia's salvation. I have not betrayed the city of my birth, nor the children of my kinsmen - I am Lapulian as you are, and I was once, as you are yet, a human. Nay, I am still human.'

'But you have not told us what must be done!' Candor protested. If from Theodysus this destruction will come upon the Magic City, then you know what I must do. Why don't you speak it then?'

'You must kill Theodysus, and make an end of him before he unmakes the Dragon,' the Star Seer said with a laugh. 'If you think that you can do this than you are truly a son of Theaton. But just as men are born from words, so also can they be reborn thereby. Go to the north; follow after Theodysus, and you will learn better, and then you will no longer be the son of the Dragon.'

'I will go to the north, as you have said,' Candor answered. 'Have you any further defense to make for yourself?'

'I have not spoken anything but the truth,' the Seer replied.
[Chapter VIII:  
The Fire Bird](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Hearthon

'But master,' Hearthon complained, 'you have done such mighty things in Bel Albor! Why must you leave?

The whole camp was making its way through the forest to the Far North, where it was said in ancient times men had first made their dwelling place. They had endured many things together, and seen many amazing things in the lands of Bel Albor. Hearthon had been the first to call himself 'Enthedu' - which is to signify 'one who is of Theodysus.'

In a country that had for ages been dominated by powerful and ruthless lords and where strife was so common, Theodysus brought a message that led men to live peaceful lives. They gave to the poor, nourished the sick and gave their attention to those who were ignored - to children, to strangers and to outcasts.

Hearthon himself was a man of Alwan. He and four others alone had been with Theodysus when he ascended Mount Vitiai. From the place where the old fortress of Adapann once stood he began to teach them, and from that day forward he gained followers wherever he traveled. Several of the elves followed him at first, but abandoned him when they realized that his doctrines would anger Lord Pelas and his Doctrai, not to mention the god-hunters of Sunlan, which was their destination. 'We will lose everyone, my lord, if we find no occasion to give them comfort,' Hearthon had warned in those days.

Theodysus had no interest in changing his teachings, however.

'If I speak the truth, to change it would be to lie - but that is not why I am here, Hearthon,' he said kindly but firmly. 'Those who seek truth will find comfort therein. If they seek meat and bread, then however much I feed them they will have no peace.'

The departure of the elves seemed a small loss to Hearthon in those days, when yet so many were ready to join them. The elves were their oppressors, and it was only fitting that the great prophet should come to those who were oppressed. 'Justice shall fall upon the plains like a Spring wind,' Hearthon had sung, repeating a passage from the scriptures of the Essenes among whom they had come to dwell.

'Nay, justice falls at every moment,' Theodysus rebuked him. 'It is not justice that is lacking in Bel Albor. It is ignorance that injures men, not Pelas and his brother.'

Such rebukes were not uncommon in the camp. Nearly every attempt to flatter or impress their teacher resulted in embarrassment. It was not that Theodysus was mocking them, but his answers made their wisdom appear small.

The people followed him through Ilvas, teaching and recruiting followers all along the villages of the Esse River. When they had traveled nearly the whole length of the river from Ilvas to the northern bank of the Great Lake Brost which lay to the south of Bel Albor they crossed over into Sunlan, teaching along the lake before finally coming to Centan.

It was there, in the city where Sunlan's power was housed, that they encountered the opposition of Xanthur's servants. They were mocked and threatened, and driven from the city by the elves. From there they proceeded to Sunlan and then into the north, where they were at last overtaken by the god-hunters. Many of them abandoned their teacher, thinking that it was better to be alive than to be wise. Theodysus was taken captive, bound and sent to Morarta to be questioned. But the coming of Candor changed the plans of the god-hunters.

'I will be with you but a little longer,' Theodysus said, 'or perhaps much longer, if we remain in Ilvas or in Alwan. But perhaps not. I do not know. Do you fear that the poor shall vanish before you return to the South? Shall the downtrodden vanish before we have a chance to help them?'

'But men are suffering,' Hearthon said with frustration. He had been growing increasingly impatient with Theodysus ever since they began their northward march. A part of him wished his teacher had never escaped from Morarta in the first place. But he was not entirely convinced that there was no reasoning with him.

'Men suffer in Alwan, Hearthon,' Theodysus answered. 'Shall I go to them also? Shall I go to every man? Shall I go to them all at once, and give them what they think they want or what their body needs at the moment? If I did so, I would be a great man, indeed.'

'You would be, my lord. Return to the South, where the poor await us. There is so much work to do yet.'

'We will not go back, Hearthon,' Theodysus said with sorrow in his voice. 'I do not rejoice in their sufferings or in the emptiness of their stomachs; but there are more ways for a man to suffer than to hunger and thirst.'

'Will you truly abandon them, then?' Hearthon asked with sadness. 'What manner of man are you?'

This question seemed to trouble Theodysus to his heart. He turned with tears in his eyes and said to Hearthon, 'Would you have me for a lord if, bearing fire, death and hell, I came with devouring sword, all man's crimes and sins to quell?' He was quoting a passage from the Essene writings, which Hearthon had all but memorized.

Silenced by his own Scriptures, Hearthon bowed low and departed from his master's presence.

'Are you leaving us, master?' a quiet voice asked from behind Theodysus.

'There is no parting of ways,' Theodysus answered. 'But there is a passing out of view.'

'Can I ask you a question, my lord?' the voice asked nervously. The voice belonged to a man named Amadein.

'I will answer you, Amadein,' Theodysus said, still troubled by Hearthon's wrathful departure. 'But will you hear me?'

The True Hunger

'Master,' Amadein asked. 'Why do you not feed all men?'

Theodysus paused for a moment and put his hand upon the trunk of a tree. He shut his eyes in thought for a moment and then answered, opening his eyes at the same moment. 'I do not feed them that I may feed them,' he replied. 'It is my burden to save men, not to save their lives, Amadein.

'What is a man's life?' he continued, 'Is his life meat? What is meat? Is meat that which is, at one time, good to eat, and then at another time, rotten? How is it both whole and rotten, yet the same meat? The Hidden Name gives it its being and its substance, and gives substance to the man also, who is a babe, a youth, a man and an elder all at once - not, of course, at one time, that I have not said. He is all these things in name, for the Hidden Name has given him substance where there is otherwise only the sundry appearances.

'Man's life is in the Hidden Name - bread and meat, water and milk are but parts of him; they are parts of what the Name makes of him. But they are not the man. The man is a name, and all names are in the Hidden Name, which stands over and under all things.

'Why do I not feed all men?' Theodysus repeated the question as if considering it for the very first time. 'What good is meat if the soul is dark? Is meat a blessing if it is fed to a devil? Is meat and water good for a wicked man, so that he might be strengthened when he strangles his victim in the street for a purse of gold?

'And what prevents a poor man from being righteous? Can he not be righteous without meat and drink? Or does the meat and drink, entering into him, make him good? Feed him, he will be unrighteous still. Clothe him, but his soul will remain naked. Heal him, but his spirit will remain sick with evil.

'I came to feed men, indeed,' Theodysus said with a nod. 'All that I possess I carry with me. Clothes to warm my flesh, a knife to cut my food, a staff with which to travel. But what can I give? If I gave away my clothing, who would clothe me? If I gave my staff, what would I lean upon? If I gave away my knife, who would cut my meat for me at mealtime? But my words I can give freely, and without losing what I give. And my words can feed what no meat can feed, and give life where meat and water cannot give life. For man's life is in the Hidden Name, which is all that I know and all that I preach and all that I ever wish to speak of. I came to feed men's souls true meat. For only words can save a man from his ignorance. And if a man's soul is in the darkness of despair, meat will avail him nothing.'

The Ballast of the World

'Master, are you everything? Or are you nothing?' another voice asked. Many of those who surrounded them began to chuckle at this strange question. Theodysus continued to walk, his eyes fixed upon the northward path.

'I am neither, Uilin,' he answered. 'And therefore I am both everything and I am nothing. I speak for the Hidden Name - which is to say, that I speak the Truth. But the truth is everything, so in the truth I am everything. But in myself, I am nothing, for without the Hidden Name I have no part in the truth. In the truth I am everything, because there is only one truth - and the truth has no neighbors.'

'Can any man be as you are?' another man asked. 'Or are all men to be accounted as wicked?'

'If they could not be even as I am, then on what ground is he to be judged wicked? For it is only he who could be righteous who can be judged to be wicked. If no man could be even as I am, then no man could be wicked. If men can be as I am, however, where are they? Follow me.'

'Where must we go?' Uilin asked him.

'There is only one way to be forgiven,' Theodysus answered. 'And that is to make yourself guilty; for only the guilty can be forgiven.'

'But what have we done, that we should be guilty?' Uilin asked with confusion. 'We have given everything to follow you.'

'If you say that you are innocent,' Theodysus, 'then you do well. But if you turn your head toward your neighbor and shake it at him, then you will burn in the fires forever - you shall have your dwelling in the Pit of Abban Don where shame and darkness will enwrap you like a womb.'

'Are you guilty?' Uilin asked.

'I am guilty,' Theodysus answered.

'But what have you done, my lord, that you might be guilty?'

'What have you done? I have done it in you. What has my father done? I have done it in him. What has my mother done? I have done it in her. Man is man for his being, but what is his being except a resistance to other beings? And what is resistance but motion? But how could a thing move if there is nothing else? To even think of a man and his form we must also think of everything else. If you take a step, you do not move - you move the world beneath your feet. If you leap, you do not leap - you push the world away from you. Even the sun does not rise and set, but the world swings under it during the day and over it during the night. To be is to move, and to move is to have your being in all things. For nothing can exist without everything.'

'Who are you, my lord?'

'I am the ballast of the world,' Theodysus answered. 'All things conform to me, and I conform all things to myself. 'If you believe this, then you will know that you are guilty of everything; you will know that you are the cause of all evil. Follow me.'

The Last Battle

Candor stepped away from the Star Seer slowly. The wide glassy eyes now stared at the heavens blindly, and never again would Lapulia hear what he had to say to them, though they had long ago begun to disbelieve him. He had betrayed Lapulia, for there was something they could do about the coming disaster, be it however so far away – Candor felt certain about this. If the end would come through Theodysus, Lapulia could be saved if this fanatic was slain. This would be his last task, and for it he would be received in Lapulia with honors, and his family would be saved from the omen that had for so many years hung over their heads.

He lay a small empty glass vial upon the stone table and sighed. The poison would have made the Star Seer's passing painless. As he looked upon the creature's twisted and broken body he thought that he would have killed him whether he was guilty or not. The words, 'Curse the Tower!' came into his mind, but he drove them away. It was better, he believed, for the Tower to be a little cruel here and there than to be destroyed, leaving men to the plots of the elves in Bel Albor who would have, were it not for the secret efforts of the Black Adder, burst their shores and spilled over into the south to trouble mankind.

Candor followed after Nonix and Leai, hoping that they would reach the camp of Theodysus before he did - otherwise he would probably need to kill them. Once he found the camp it would be easy enough to kill the master without endangering anyone else. He smirked bitterly at the thought that he was even concerned for their lives. But the Black Adder were distinguished not only by their ability to kill, but also by their ability to kill only their target, and very often without being detected. He convinced himself that it was for the sake of the challenge involved in killing only Theodysus that he meant to spare the others, though visions of Leai's beautiful eyes seemed to indicate otherwise.

After nearly an hour he came around a sudden bend in the path and found a huge pillar of stone standing before him. There were tracks passing to the left and to the right so he could not tell which way the camp had gone. He chose the right path and went around the pillar quickly. But as he neared the far side, where the two paths apparently rejoined, he heard the sound of feet stumbling upon the pebbles of the path.

The man to whom these noisy feet belonged had just passed beyond his sight, having taken the other path before Candor had emerged behind the pillar. When he came to the place where these two paths crossed he looked back and saw that the feet belonged to the fanatic Hearthon, who had accompanied Theodysus when first they were greeted by these strange people. He turned to follow, silently making his way back the way he had come.

Hearthon stumbled and cursed as he fled into the night, sometimes weeping and sometimes storming about in the dark silently. Recognizing him, Candor followed silently, waiting to see if he could catch him unaware and learn where Theodysus had gone.

The man proved to be harder to follow than Candor had expected, however, and soon he found himself going much further to the south than he had intended as Hearthon fled from his master and his strange mission to a land where no men dwell.

As Candor observed the man he could not help but pity him. But it served him right, in a way, Candor thought, because if you think too highly of a man you cannot but be disappointed in the end.

After nearly another hour had passed they came to a steep place, and Candor thought that Hearthon would be forced to stop for the night. But the man attempted the descent and, as Candor would have expected, lost his footing and fell into the brush and stone below. Expecting to hear the fallen man's groans and cries, Candor was surprised to hear three other men begin shouting.

'Be alert! They have come!' one voice shouted.

'They are dropping boulders!' another said.

'No, it is only one man, and he is injured,' a calmer, third voice spoke out. 'If he is alive, we must take him to Master Eberu at once.'

The god-hunters had come to the North following Ghastin's report.

Candor crept down the slope quietly, barely disturbing the rocks and dust beneath his feet. By the time he had entered the camp of the god-hunters, Hearthon already stood before Lord Eberu, his face bloodied and bruised, partly from his fall and partly from the abuse of his captors.

'Where is this fool, Theodysus?' Eberu demanded harshly. 'And do not lie to me again.'

Hearthon shook and shivered, both in fear and discomfort. He had been badly hurt during his fall, but he was not being treated any gentler for it.

'We have done nothing to you!' Hearthon protested. 'I have done nothing!'

'Nothing?' Eberu said, pushing his way past his guards and coming to stand in front of the quaking captive. 'Lord Sol suffers on a bed of pain because of your master and his killers. Talk of peace and the world to come does us little good here and now - not while men like you believe every madman's spittle to be a divine oracle. How many others will your people destroy in the end? Nothing to us? Fool!' Eberu spat in Hearthon's face and slapped him across the cheek with the back of his fist. 'What good? Tell me, you faithful one, what good does it do? What does he bring your people into the North to do? To die? To pray? To build up an army to challenge the security of Bel Albor? To overthrow Pelas in Alwan or his brother Agonas in Sunlan?'

'I,' Hearthon muttered, his voice filled with hurt, 'I don't know.'

'That I believe,' Eberu said bitterly, drawing his sword. 'What did you think this man would do that other prophets had failed to do, or fail to do that other prophets have done? Were you honestly so foolish to think that at last the ancient gods have taken thought of us?'

'I, I,' Hearthon muttered mindlessly as he watched the blade approach his neck.

'For thousands of years madmen and their dreams have led you blind men about with hooks and strings. When will you grow up?' Eberu pushed Hearthon to the ground and took his throat in his hand. 'We are not here to kill men, but to save them from the abuses of those who would make themselves into gods. If you ever thought otherwise you have been deceived. It is not the god-hunters that people must fear, it is those who escape our gaze.'

Hearthon fell silent and shut his eyes tight. Much to Candor's surprise he suddenly opened his eyes and said, with wrath upon his face, 'I can tell you where he is.'

Eberu paused suddenly and looked upon his captive with renewed interest, as if he had suddenly been exchanged for a different prisoner. He nodded, thinking to himself that perhaps these followers of Theodysus were not so very different from all the other mortal prophets and seers.

'Taral!' Eberu shouted over his shoulder. Looking once more at Hearthon he asked, 'Where is Theodysus?'

'Will you hurt the others?' Hearthon asked fearfully.

'We will hurt no one we do not need to harm,' Eberu answered, his voice suddenly sounding gentle. 'We are not enemies of man, but protectors.'

A rage seemed to pass over Hearthon's face for a moment and he blurted out, 'He goes to the Vale of Athann, to unmake the Dragon - or so he says.' This last part was said with in a bitter and mocking tone. He felt sick because he had thought that Theodysus came to make the world better and to bring justice to Bel Albor. But he had proven himself to be no better than his predecessors, who on mad whims wasted the blood of their followers on vain fantasies - fantasies that did nothing to improve men's lives.

Eberu looked closely at Hearthon's bloodshot eyes, as if by staring he might discern whether or not he spoke the truth. Nodding, finally, he sheathed his blade, and addressed Taral, who had just arrived at the scene.

'Kill him,' he said to Taral, 'kill him, and then lead your men north to the Vale of Athann and kill every last one of those devils. These men have made a mockery of Lord Dalta and the god-hunters of Sunlan; they have injured a high elf and their leader has escaped from Morarta. If we wish to restore anything like peace to Bel Albor, we must, even as they made a spectacle of us, make an example of them. Do not let a soul of them escape!'

Hearthon had no time to protest. Even as his eyes opened wide in horror and his mouth opened to shout his indignation, Taral struck off his head and sent it tumbling upon the rocky ground beneath their feet. For a moment his mouth continued to work soundlessly, and then he was dead.

'It comes to this, then,' Candor said within himself as he watched this scene unfold. He had all but finished his task, the only thing that remained being the destruction of this Theodysus. And these god-hunters meant to do him the favor of eliminating the fanatical leader themselves. As he surveyed their forces - some five hundred trained and armed men - he judged that it would be an easy task for them to destroy Theodysus.

Then Candor could return to Lapulia with honors, and with honors for his long-suspected family. The Proud family could be proud again, he thought with happiness. But a vision flashed before his mind, Leai's beautiful eyes, cold in the sleep of death, with a puddle of blood for her bed. The pain this caused him angered him and he threw himself upon the ground and tore at his hair in frustration. Everything was so clear to him, but this woman's beauty pulled at him, even through his memory.

'What should I do!?' he hissed, suddenly realizing that he was not entirely sure that he was speaking to just himself. He forced himself, shaking, to his feet and walked southward for a little while, stumbling through the forest as he tried to compel his feet to flee the Far North. His heart pounded like a drum of war within his breast, however, and he fell to the ground with agony in his gut. 'POISON!' he shouted, heedless of who might hear him. With a rage he rushed back toward the camp of the god-hunters and stood upon the rocks above them. He spread his cloak wide like the wings of a great bird and shouted down to them, 'Flee! Flee! Flee from this land! Do not try to enter the Vale of Athann, or you will perish, every last one of you. I am the voice of Death itself to you. Hear me and flee, or die every last one of you. This is the only warning that I shall give to you!'

'Bring that fool to me!' shouted Lord Eberu, who stood just beneath the place where Candor stood. 'I want his head upon a spear by midnight! I am sick of these fools.'

Even as he spoke Candor vanished from his spot, and the party of twenty god-hunters who made their way toward him were utterly confounded. They followed the only path available to them, which took them to a pass through which they must pass in single file for a short space. But while they marched through, one after another, Candor released a blast of fire from his Firesling, piercing a bloody hole through six men. He vanished into the shadows, leaving the others to panic in the tight space while they tried to figure out what had happened.

When they had returned to their senses, as far as such a thing was possible after witnessing such devastation, the remaining god-hunters rushed through the passage, coming out into the open among a group of boulders, behind any one of which might be hiding their assailant. They made their way silently between the rocks, searching every shadow for a sign of their foe. All they heard, however, was a sound like an iron ball clanging against the rocks. In the silence that followed they could discern something like a tiny hiss, emanating from somewhere near their feet. In an instant, a Lapulian Thunderstone burst in a flash, the force of the explosion tearing the ten men limb from limb. The remaining god-hunters, their ears ringing from the thunderous sound and their bodies scratched and torn from the rocks and stones sent their way, fled screaming, 'Wizard! Wizard! He is a devil!'

The men fled blindly back down to the camp, some in tears, some cursing madly. They made their report and a search was called, but no sign of the Black Adder could be discovered aside from the heaps of bodies that lay strewn all over the place.

As Candor rushed through the woods toward the north he whispered to himself, 'Poison.' He reached into his sack and pulled out his Spell Book. There were only a few hours before dawn, and the god-hunters could reach the Vale of Athann in less than a day. He would have a lot of work to do before the morning came.

The terrors of that morning were remembered by Bel Albor's leaders for the rest of time - at least, such time as they had remaining. It was called the Black Dawn, and the injury it inflicted upon the god-hunters - both upon their reputation and their numbers - was never fully healed.

The god-hunters had expended a great deal of effort to make the journey to the valley where Theodysus and his followers had camped. And for all this while they were untroubled, except for the fact that several of their men seemed to have vanished without a trace. This, along with the memory of what had happened at their own encampment, filled their ranks with a watchfulness and a fearfulness that was ready to turn into panic at any instant.

From atop the mountains they beheld the camp of Theodysus before them, unguarded and disordered.

'They have no defenses,' a man reported to Taral, who had led the men through the mountain passes into the valley. There was now only a league of wooded hills between them and their prey.

'You know our orders,' he said, masking the hesitation in his own voice. He knew the reasons for their mission, but he could not help but pity the fools. 'Wizard or not,' he thought, 'there is no way these fools can survive an attack from the god-hunters.'

The god-hunters prepared themselves for war and marched into the woods, expecting to emerge from the tree line to see looks of terror upon the faces of the followers of Theodysus. But none of them ever stepped beyond the trees - nay, not so much as a man among them came within half a league of their victims.

Some men simply fell to the ground unexpectedly, almost as if they had tripped upon a root or a stone, but they did not rise again. Others were taken in snares and slain in cruel traps. Explosions shook the forest and splintered trees, sending men flying in pieces to batter their remains against the tree trunks. Blood and horror reigned beneath the canopy of trees as all the secret horrors of the Black Adder were unleashed upon the god-hunters of Xanthur.

Twelve men perished, choking to death in a cloud of green smoke that burst from a small glass vial that fell to the ground from a tree. Seven men died in the blast of Candor's final Thunderstone. Four fell to his Firesling and many more fell to his swift knives. Many tales emerged from those woods that day as the survivors wept and made their report to Lord Eberu. But only one detail was confirmed by everyone who survived.

'Taral fell also,' one man reported, shaking his head in disbelief. 'He went after the wizard with his sword held high, ready to kill. But the devil evaded him, and put a knife into his throat before he could even draw near to him.'

'The devil?' Eberu asked angrily, frustrated by the way his god-hunters had taken to referring to their enemy as a 'wizard,' a 'mage,' or even a 'devil.'

'We all saw him, my lord,' the god-hunter defended himself. 'Sneaking around in the woods, passing between the tree trunks, or, some say, even passing from tree to tree among the boughs - the man with the book in his hand and fire in his fist!'

As Eberu contemplated this strange turn of events, and struggled with the question of whether he ought to proceed with the remainder of his troops, something new and unexpected happened.

The Fire Bird

Candor had very little time to consider his next steps in the wake of his battle in the woods. He had lost all but three of his knives, and he had used up all of his poisons and potions. His Firesling had no more of its iron balls and his last Thunderstone had been put to good use against the god-hunters. All that now remained in his arsenal was Spell Book and his knives. Even his Smoker, which he used to set fire to the Thunderstones, was out of oil and now useless. He cast aside all these extra burdens and looked around the woods. The god-hunters were all gone, either slain or in flight. He looked out from the shadow of the trees at the camp of Theodysus, half hating them and half wishing he could go to them, and hear the voice of Leai once again.

But he had not yet broken with the Tower. He could still pursue Theodysus, though he did not think it would be easy to approach him. But while all these things were being considered, the light of the dawn burst over the mountains in the east. But whereas the dawn is wont to bathe the land in golden sunshine, or rosy pink light, this dawn was a red as deep and dark as blood.

Every eye turned toward the east, whether they were the followers of Theodysus, puzzled by the sounds and cries from the woods or whether they were the god-hunters, fleeing from the Black Adder in terror. A darkness passed across the rising sun and a shadow as black as night came over the land. Soon they saw a dark form, black against the light of the rising sun, spreading its great wings over the whole land of Bel Albor. A murmur arose and there were sounds of panic and fear everywhere. Amidst the chaos a voice cried out in terror, 'The Fire Bird!'

At that name every man quaked and fell, the followers of Theodysus fled from the camp in every direction, stumbling over one another in their terror. The god-hunters cast themselves to the ground and hid beneath rocks and the roots of trees, some weeping, some repenting, some even cutting open their own throats to escape the horror of the vision. A bird whose feathers were tongues of fire and whose talons were big enough to lift a mountain came into view, its beak piercing the morning mist like a tower and its golden eyes gazing every which way, and missing nothing.

Theodysus alone stood within the center of the camp, awaiting the great bird with fear in his breast, but with his fists clenched in resigned expectation.

The great bird circled around the Vale of Athann three times and then turned toward the camp and dove down toward the ground like a bolt of lightning. The flames seemed to draw all the air into the great bird and for a moment every man thought that they would perish. But the bird turned and swirled, becoming a whirlwind upon the ground, scattering the tents and cook fires of Theodysus' followers like dust in a gale. There was a great thunderous roar and the swirling fires vanished, revealing a man, grey of hair with a kindly face. In his eyes shone all the wisdom of the ages.

Every other man had fled, and Candor alone beheld all of this.
[Chapter IX:  
The Trial of Theodysus](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Trial

'Who are you?' the old man asked with a gentle expression upon his face. He looked fatherly, like a man who was asking a child about the nature of his games. 'What do they call you, child?'

'I am called Theodysus,' the prophet answered.

'Names are such silly things. They stand for men but say nothing about them,' the old man said with a laugh. 'Who are you? Are you he who was prophesied in the beginning? Are you the one that would bring comfort and peace to the raging world? Are you the speaker of the Hidden Wisdom?'

'I am,' Theodysus answered simply.

'Who are you?' the old man repeated, as if the prophet had said nothing. 'Are you Adapann? The prophets said that it would be Adapann himself who would come.'

'I am Adapann, then,' Theodysus answered. 'But yet I am not. Change is nothing if that which alters remains not within that which it becomes. So I am my father, and in him I perished long ago, but in me he yet lives, and speaks, and has come to you to speak the Hidden Wisdom.'

'What of the other prophecies?' the old man asked. 'You were to be an Essene of the Essenes. You were to destroy Bel Albor and make its towers into dens for sharks and fish.'

'Many things have been said about me, shall I answer for all of them? I am not of the Essenes, but yet I am what they are meant to be - devoted to the Hidden Wisdom - devoted to the Truth. If they, according to their bloodlines, abandoned what was their root, are they still to be accounted Essenes, who are not Essenes? They carry the blood of the ancient Seers in their veins, but I carry their spirit in my breast. Judge for yourself whether or not I am of the Essenes.'

The old man shrugged and continued his investigation, saying, 'But what of all the prophecies? If they speak that which seems contrary to what you have become, what am I to think?'

'No man, whether he is a prophet or a man of ordinary birth, has ever seen or heard that which he did not see or hear. If they speak otherwise, or if they speak what they see and hear to ears that misunderstand, none of this changes the truth. They heard and saw aright, but if you thought something different, then you have not understood them. The truth only speaks the truth, and the truth is everything and everything is the truth. All things, therefore, speak of me, for nothing moves or speaks of itself, but all things speak through the Hidden Name.'

'The prophecies said that you would slay the three beasts. But the elves have slain two of them. All that remains for you to try yourself against is the Fire Bird.' He said this with a look of haughtiness that would have made Lord Pelas look as meek as a lamb.

'I have made myself my father Adapann, whose flesh I am; so also, then, have I, being Adapann, made myself Pelas and his brother, and Dalele as well. The dwarves also I have become, and in them have I slain the others. For you know well enough that there is one was the father of those in Kharku and Bel Albor alike. Yea, I am he also, and he is me.'

'You truly have come to speak for the Hidden Name? Otherwise I would call you a madman,' the old man said with a hint of doubtfulness. 'But how shall you, a man of peace with a knife fit only to cut potatoes, slay the Fire Bird?'

'I have not come to slay the Fire Bird,' Theodysus said. 'I have come to slay the Great Dragon.'

For an instant all the terror and strength of the three great beasts seemed to gleam forth from within the old man's eyes. The bulk of the ocean, the strength of the earth and the wisdom of the air seemed to fill him like heat fills a flame.

'And how,' the old man asked, his voice filled with menace, 'will you make an end of him?'

'One little word shall fell him,' Theodysus answered.

The Unmaking of the Dragon

'Do you not understand who you are speaking to?' the old man asked with mockery in his voice. 'Do you know who I am?'

'You are the Dragon Thaeton,' Theodysus said calmly. 'But yet I do not know you.'

'It is said that He who rules all, knows all,' Thaeton replied, 'yet you say you do not know me, even while you speak my name?'

'Names are such silly things,' Theodysus replied with a satisfied grin.

'If you know who I am,' Thaeton said, 'then you know also that within my hands has been placed all power - power to destroy, to build up, to feed and to starve. All this power is within my hands.'

'You have power indeed,' Theodysus admitted, 'but Power is nothing.

'A man on a journey, coming to a crossroads, is said to have the power to choose to go left or to choose to go right. But he will go one way or the other. Wherein, then, is the power? If he has power to go left, but goes right, wherein does one say that he has power to go left? It is possible, men say, but they do not know what they speak of.

'From watching a man, at one time, go left and, again at another time, go right, men say he could do both. But wherein does that mean he has the might to do what he doesn't do? You have taught men to stretch out beyond their knowledge – and you yourself are the chief of the ignorant.

'You have all power in your hands, oh Dragon,' Theodysus said passionately, 'You are possibility, oh Dragon. But both are nothing. You are the enemy of the Hidden Name, but the Hidden Name, being that which is complete, has no enemies.'

'What is the Hidden Name?' Thaeton hissed with frustration.

'The Hidden Name is Truth,' Theodysus said.

Thaeton then shook his head with anger, 'If this is so, then curse the Eternal King for making it so!'

'Wherein do you curse?' Theodysus asked compassionately. 'Wherein do you grumble against the Eternal King?'

'For he ought, then, to have made a better world, if this one is so filled with deceptions.'

'There is nothing but the truth,' Theodysus concluded, 'and there can be no world that does not share in it. How then do you wish for another except through blindness?'

'I curse him still!' Thaeton shouted, his rage threatening to burst forth at any moment into flames and thunder. 'It is not I, the forever hated Dragon who is guilty of every sin - it is he who made me thus, and he who made all things who is the wicked one. He is the cause of everything!'

'You say he ought to have made a better world,' Theodysus answered, 'but you do not speak of what there is, but of what you wish there to be, and you wish it not for nothing, but because it pleases you. But is the world for the Dragon, or for the Dragon's king?

'Would you ask of these stones that they begin to weave clothing from the mud of the earth?' Theodysus asked, his voice growing firmer as he went on speaking. 'Would you ask the rain to sing a melody upon harp strings? To ask what cannot be done is to ask an absurdity. It is the false thought of better worlds alone that allows men to rail against the Eternal King, saying he ought to do this or should do that. Believing your doctrines about what is possible, men grow angry at what has been made. Such men, and you their father and teacher, speak nonsense, not understanding anything.

'If he could not make the world better than this, sick land of the dying and dead,' the Dragon retorted, 'then he should not have made it at all.'

'But then you must say also, Thaeton,' the prophet answered, 'that it would be possible for what is to not be; and there can be nothing more absurd in all thought than that. It was this lie that you told to Athann and his wife, when in the ancient world you brought mankind under your dominion. For you led them to think that their own desires represented to them veritable possibilities – you showed them a path to better worlds such as you dream of, but neither you nor they have ever perceived such worlds.'

'Without me,' the Dragon snorted, 'there could be no world.'

'Is this your last protest?' Theodysus asked. He shut his eyes and shook his head. 'Without the Hidden Name there is nothing, for the hidden name is truth, which is in everything and without which nothing could have Being. There will always be men, not understanding the truth, who will be led astray by your lies and your temptations. It is true that if there is a world, so also will there be a Dragon. But when the truth is understood, you, whose doctrine is but an illusion, will vanish away. You are Power, Thaeton,' Theodysus ended. 'But power is nothing. There is, therefore, nothing for men to judge or condemn, but only something for them to be. There is nothing but the Truth.'

The old man, to Candor's wonderstruck eyes, seemed to almost to glow for all his rage. The air bent around him as if he himself were a fiery forge. 'All is well then,' he hissed in a serpentine voice. 'All that the good God has made it just well and good. So be it. Then you will not mind at all if I, according to this doctrine, destroy both you and your people.'

Theodysus paused for a time, and shut his eyes, his head slowly nodding. 'Even if you inflict upon me such pain that I must cry out a curse against him, it cannot alter the truth. Even if my frame is so weak that your fury can drive from it all sense and reason, and with it all knowledge of the truth, yet the truth remains unsullied and untouched.'

Smoke rose from Thaeton, and for a brief moment Candor could scarcely tell whether he beheld the figure of a man or the frame of a monstrous beast.

'You and I are of one substance,' Theodysus said. 'Whatever you do to me, and whatever you take from the world, you cannot rob he who is in both of us anymore than a man becomes a thief for passing his gold from his left hand to his right. Slay me if you must, then. Your evil is mine, and my suffering is your punishment. For there is no I and you. There is only the Truth.'

At that instant the old man stretched out and leaped into the air, becoming once again the monstrous Fire Bird. Like lightning he flew across the sky and like a falling star he crashed down to the ground.

Theodysus raised his hand, palm upward as if you catch a drop of rain, and the two met. One mightier than the earth, one of but mortal frame – but all time seemed to freeze, and to Candor's eyes it looked as though the entire world drained into Theodysus' hand.

For an instant the prophet stood like a living flame, and in the next moment he was gone.

Candor lost all sense, and for a long while he knew nothing at all. When at last he opened his eyes he could see no sign of Theodysus. The Fire Bird, however, lay upon the ground a smoldering ruin, its flames burning quickly away until nothing was left but the bare earth upon which it had descended.

Looking up, Candor saw a bright and beautiful new star, shining almost as brightly as the sun for a moment before taking its place among the starry host as well.

'Theodysus?' he asked in confusion, not knowing that he had just given the star its name.

He walked out to the place where the two had spoken and knelt upon the ground in confusion and amazement.

Silence ruled the Far North.

The Lord of the Stars

This moment, when a Black Adder named Candor Proud knelt in the dirt staring at a star so brilliant that it put the sun to shame, the Nihlion were born. The origin of the name by which they came to be known I will reveal in due course, but this is the moment they themselves mark as the first moment of their faith. The words he heard rushed through his mind, battling and correcting everything he had hitherto been led to believe. Every mistake of the Lapulians was revealed to him in a torrent as he considered the implications of what he had just seen.

And having seen it he could not doubt the truth of what he had heard; nor did he think he could doubt it if he had merely heard the doctrines of Theodysus. For Theodysus had come to do only one thing, to speak one word: Truth. And by that word he had overturned thousands of years of Lapulian philosophical wandering.

Everything the Tower did was aimed at one goal: The survival of mankind. It did not seem to occur to them that there might be something even worth sacrificing life for. But when everything is rooted in time, and in the fleeting moments and impending world to come, there is nothing more important. But time itself, he could see now, was but a word – and a part of a Truth that, being in all times, remains unmolested by alternation.

The Lapulians had rejected the gods for many reasons, and most of them were sound reasons. But while sages and wise men debated about the moment of creation, a time that stood beyond any and all experience, this man had shown him that the moment of creation is every moment – for the world is not merely an expanse, but it is also a beginning and an end.

'No man will ever find God at the first moment of the world,' Candor thought. 'All that the passing away and coming to be of things can reveal is that, if there has been a change, and a state has come to be which was not before, another state must have preceded it.' This means, as Xanthur had taught the people of Sunlan, that the cause of the world is the world itself in its first moment.

But a cause and effect contradict one another, and can only represent change insofar as they bear the same name and are united by a word. For it is the nature of names to unite that which is contradictory.

An infant and the man he becomes are not the same, but they are the same in name. That alone endures. It is not the child, who changes in nearly every regard, that extends into adulthood, it is the name given to the child – the name that surrounds and envelopes the contraries.

The world of yore and the world of today is one world in name, not in themselves, for though everything changes, only the name endures - the substance of all things is the name thereof, and the truth is that name which unites all that there is. The Eternal God is not present at the beginning of things, he is present in every change and every motion and in every object.

'Do not fear death,' Candor thought frantically to himself, 'for passing away is an illusion. Rather fear living without hope, which is a living death. If you know the truth, then you know the Eternal God, and nothing, not time or distance, can take that from you. Be, and do not worry about surviving, for everything stands before the Eternal God, who, being the Truth itself, cannot change. Death is the end of the body, but every moment lived before the Eternal God is as if it were written in stone.'

'And every moment,' Candor shuddered at the thought, 'lived without him was lost as if it were burned with fire in the pit of Abban Don - and burned therein forever.'

'Do not fear death,' Candor said aloud, 'rather fear the ignorance that blinds you from the truth.'

The Lapulians had long mocked the legends and stories of the gods. But the God of Theodysus was Truth itself, which, if it be not real, destroys all knowledge. For it would be as if to say that Truth is false, and so all things are false and everything that is real is not real. Candor shook his head, amazed to find such thoughts originating within his own frame.

The Lapulians deny the gods because they, represented in the fables of mankind, are said to have bodies, which when investigated are nowhere to be found. But even bodies, as they move and resist one another, have their movement and their resistance only insofar as the body before its movement and the body after it has moved, though they contradict one another, are united by the Name. Thus even bodies and the very stones of the Magic Tower itself have their being only in the Hidden Name.

Candor fell to the ground and grasped at the dirt with his hands, 'I am less real than he!' he exclaimed in horror and wonder at once.

Many things passed through his mind as he knelt upon the ground where Theodysus and the Dragon had stood. Suddenly he understood what the Star Seer had meant when he said that Theodysus would be the destruction of Lapulia, but its salvation also. The Magic Tower, taking itself to be the savior of mankind's future, could never understand how the Tower could fall yet Lapulia be saved. But it was not their lives or their Tower that needed saving, but their understanding. For they lived every day bound to the lies of the Dragon, which would live on in the breasts of those who believe them until time itself comes to an end. In that moment a great desire entered into his heart, to bring the news of Theodysus to his homeland, but he knew that it would not be well received, nor did he think he could come within a hundred leagues of Lapulia without being taken or slain.

After he considered this, others began to emerge from their hiding places. The people gathered around him to see if they could learn what had happened. Before he knew it he was surrounded by a great crowd of people, several of whom he realized were garbed in the armor of the god-hunters. His instinct was to call for the others to take or slay them, but when he saw the wonder in their eyes he realized that they, like him, had been broken, and were ready to be remade.

'The world is broken,' Candor said after they had stared at him for some time. 'Not by the might and power of the Dragon, as your stories have said, but by his lies. There is only one thing that can oppose the Truth - and that is a lie. But a lie is nothing, as it is not the truth. We must fight every moment for our souls, not to free our bodies from the elves, or to save our people for ages to come, but to save our hearts and minds from the illusions of Thaeton, who we have seen unmade this day. Do not forget what Theodysus has done for us all this day. Look to the heavens, and behold the reward of those who do not surrender to the enemy of Truth.'

The people looked up at the sky, and all their faces were illumined by the light of Theodysus, and they marveled at its brightness in that day. Never since that time has the Lord of the Stars shone so strongly, and men say that never again will it shine so bright. Others, however, say that it will shine once again when the hour of the world's end has come.

Yulin, the youth who had first confronted Candor and Nonix when they entered Theodysus' camp, came forward then with his sword drawn and held aloft. 'I have a sword!' he said. 'Let us cleanse the land of evil, and bring the words of Theodysus to the world. Let us drive the Dragon's lies from Bel Albor!'

'No,' Candor said, marveling at the change that had come over him, and how thoroughly defeated were his old thoughts. 'It is not against men, but for them that we must fight. And we have no quarrel with the tyrants of Bel Albor, neither with Agonas or with his brother Pelas. Our quarrel is with the children of the Dragon - the lies that yet dwell in every breast. Lift up your sword and kill, Yulin!' Candor said with a strong voice, 'but you cannot pierce a lie with a blade of iron or steel. Only with the sword that is a word - one little word shall be our weapon.'

'What is that word?' the voice of Nonix rang out, rising above the crowd.

Candor looked and saw the old man making his way through the crowd toward him, his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his eyes upon the Black Adder with suspicion.

'That word is the word of Theodysus: The word is Truth.'

The Burning of the Book

That night a great many fires were lit, for a cold wind blew through the Vale of Athann and many of the followers of Theodysus had lost their tents when the Fire Bird had burned to ashes. Candor spent the whole day recounting what he had seen until every man and woman had heard him. When night fell he called the people around him and told them of his mission.

'Every man has his own path to tread, according to the desires of his heart. My path was a dark one; I was a Black Adder of Lapulia, a nation about which few of you have heard. It is a city of fear and suspicion, where men cling desperately to the hope that, somehow, they will find a way to make mankind live forever. But more important than a long life, and more important than survival is the truth. For what is life to a foolish man but a great folly? How can a foolish man be satisfied? For he wants what he does not understand, and does not understand how to get it. But the wise man will desire knowledge, and, finding it, will be filled therewith.

'I have killed many men, and committed many crimes. But what is this to the Eternal King, who knew all things from the beginning? Have I resisted him? Have I broken that which he has wrought? No, the only breaking with the truth is through lies, and it is that which must be changed, not our past or our future - our knowledge must be changed. And let it be changed forevermore.

'So let it be known among you, and taught, as it was taught by Theodysus himself, that the good man lives by knowledge, and not by his good deeds. This will seem a dangerous doctrine to many - to those who think that they will somehow bring justice to the world by their own hands. We must be a people that forgives every wrong; for we do not seek what men call 'right' and 'good', but only the Truth, which has naught to do with men and their goals, but which alone is the true good. Our path is not kingdoms and thrones, but truth.'

Candor then lifted his spell book above his head so that everyone could see it. 'This,' he explained, 'holds all the secrets of my people. It is a book filled with ways to slay and kill men, and with the means to make one powerful. With the power of this book I slew hundreds of the god-hunters, before the Dragon descended upon the Vale of Athann. With this book we might overthrow Pelas and his brother, and make the world of Bel Albor safe for an age, and perhaps in time challenge the Magic Tower itself. Indeed, it has been prophesied that my kin will destroy Lapulia.'

The people watched him with amazement, and some of them very clearly thought that he meant to do just that. Some of the younger men put their hands upon their swords as if they were prepared to march against Alwan and Sunlan that very moment.

Standing nearby in the firelight he saw Nonix, standing with a cautious but approving look on his face, and behind him he saw Leai, watching him through her dark eyes with patience and understanding.

With a flick of his wrist and a moment of anxious doubtfulness, Candor dropped the spell book into the fire, and watched as its pages slowly curled and burned. He looked at his hands - the hands that had slain friend and foe alike - and tears streamed from his eyes. He remembered what Loyal had said to him, and now, knowing the doctrines of Theodysus, he knew that he had spoken the truth.

'I forgive you,' he had said.

'Now I must teach all men to forgive,' Candor said, both to himself and to the people watching him.

'Our path is not to greatness, such as the elves and mortal men see it. Our path is truth. And our power is in forgiveness.'

End of Book IV
[Book V:  
Noro The Hero](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

[Chapter I:  
Not For Happiness](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Thedval in Alwan

Giretta would make a good match. That was the news in Thedval. She was not the prettiest girl in the village, but she was far from homely. She was not as thin as Meidi, and her hair was certainly not as perfectly straight and dark as the other girl's, but no man would be unhappy to call her wife.

She knew this well enough most of the time - except when Meidi herself was nearby. The other girl's presence was, to Giretta at least, like the first chill of winter, or the darkening sky before a thunderstorm. The moment Meidi entered a room, every eye turned and every young man rose from his seat.

The worst part of it was the fact that such meetings could not be avoided. The people of Thedval were of Theodysus, or 'Enthedus', as the Essenes called them. They had carried the teachings of Theodysus within their hearts and minds for nearly three hundred and sixty years, faithfully passing his doctrines from father to son, and from mother to daughter.

They were a small community, and one that only survived by drawing near one to the other. As a habit they met every two weeks at the Burial Place. And as sure as the turning of the seasons, Meidi was there, and where she went, so went the eyes of every young man. Even Nihls, as much as he professed his love for none other than Giretta, was not entirely unaffected. This was not something that Giretta found easy to forgive. But whether she forgave him or not, it was all but settled that one day Nihls would be her husband.

Hardly a conversation passed between them without her mentioning her rival's name and without Nihls finding himself in the awkward position of denying any affection for Meidi while refusing to say anything truly cruel or wicked about the other girl. Nihls never said anything cruel about anybody. He never scolded Giretta for her words; but he would not partake in her harsh criticisms. 'She is too proud,' he would agree. But he would not agree with her when she said, 'She is like a Theduan street-skulker, luring every boy every which way.' At such words he would just shrug, and try to let her rage burn away quietly. When she insisted upon agreement, he would only say, 'I understand how you feel.'

When she was calm, however, she really did think quite highly of Nihls. And he was not terrible looking; he would make a good match too. She knew this deep within herself.

But in her heart there was also a desperate hope that she might somehow and in some manner attract the attention and affection of someone else. Nihls would do; but he was not her first choice, not even close. I say, not close, not because he was not second in her mind, but because the distance between first and second in her affections was like the difference between day and night, or between glory and tragedy. But alas, all of this was for her father and the Wisemen to decide.

Thedval was located not dreadfully far from Thedua and Gilwel, where the sons of Parganas first began to make a name for themselves. It was well hidden in the deep valley from whence the Thedul River entered into the Kingdom of Alwan. They had come to live there in order to escape what remained of the god-hunters of Xanthur, who had made life for both the Essenes and the Enthedus impossible east of the Esse River where Agonas dwelt and ruled. Things were not terribly better in Alwan, however, as Pelas had his own form of god-hunters, the Doctrai, who made sure that no god but Pelas was esteemed in the hearts of the people of Alwan. Thedval, however, was located in a very remote place, where the warriors of Pelas dared not tread. It was, in their eyes, the land of the goblins.

There were, in fact, a great number of goblins living in the north, but the people of Thedval lived among their tribes without strife, giving them their excess and thereby satiating their bellies ere they were forced by hunger to raid their farms. They did raid now and again, but they were no more dangerous to the Enthedu than the god-hunters or the Doctrai. The goblins had nothing against them beside being envious of their food and of their maidens. The Enthedu took great efforts to make sure that their women were protected from the greedy eyes of the goblins. Their women were not permitted outside of the house with their hair loose at their shoulders. If they dressed plainly and kept their hair braided atop their heads, they had much less to fear from the goblins - if they should, perchance, be seen by one of the brutes.

The chief of the Enthedu's dwellings was situated along the banks of the Thedul River, and they had built a fort in the heart of the valley where most of their valuables could be stored and their excess food put away for leaner times. It was from this excess that they fed the goblins and whoever else might come to their village for help. The hunger and fear that were brought on by the seemingly eternal War of Peace drove many to seek refuge in the wilds, and so no small number of people joined with the Enthedus after receiving aid from their hands. Some came and ate, and then vanished, but others cast their lot with the people of Theodysus and adopted their peculiar ways.

There were many ancient families in Thedval at that time. Some, like Meidi and her dark-haired kin, claimed descent from Blest Candorion himself, who was, among the elves of Bel Albor, regarded as the founder of their strange cult.

Xanthur was firmly persuaded that it was Candorion who had gone by the name Theodysus, and that the appearance of the great star was nothing more than miserable good fortune for the fanatics - and misfortune for the god-hunters.

Giretta and her parents believed that their own ancestors had marched into the North with Theodysus, but had become lost in the wilds ere Candorion returned with the news that Theodysus had been raised to the throne of the Astral Lords. Nihls' family, on the other hand, had only lived in Thedval for three generations, though his parents and grandparents had done everything they could to bind themselves to the people of Theodysus. They labored harder than any other family to ensure that their children were instructed properly in the customs of the Enthedu. But for all that Nihls was never regarded with the same respect as the others.

North of the Fort lay the Burial Place, where they both worshiped the Eternal King and wept for their dead. They wept, not for the loss - for Candorion had taught them that the dead do not pass away, but merely out of view - they wept for the ignorance that, until their own passing, would separate them from both God and from their beloved. Those in Alwan who knew of the Enthedu named them 'Murlai,' which signifies, 'worshippers of the dead.'

Although every man among the Enthedu proclaimed themselves to be followers of Theodysus and his teachings as they were given by Candorion and the other ancients, divisions often arose among them, as they are wont to among all peoples. At the first Autumn meeting at the Burial Place the doctrines of a man named Abbon were being put before the Elder and his Wisemen. Many men came forward to speak against Abbon, the chief among them being the Wiseman Sazo, whose duty it was to oversea the upbringing of the young men of Thedval. But as the meeting progressed, Garam, Giretta's father, rose up and said to all those assembled, 'Let us have it from Abbon's own mouth!'

Sazo's face grew grim when he heard Garam's suggestion. It was not customary to have such a meeting without first informing the one whose teachings were to be discussed. The other Wisemen, standing before the whole assembly of Thedval, were forced to affirm Garam's wisdom, and runners were called forth. 'Amarin,' Sazo said to a young man with thick brown hair and long, thin limbs. 'Go find Teacher Abbon. I don't know why he is not here!'

Amarin shrugged and left the Burial Place, making haste at first, but slowing his pace almost as soon as he had passed out of sight.

The Wisemen could debate the Teachings as much as they pleased; he had his own interests.

'Ebbe!' he called out as he passed the place where the young women were gathered. Only on feast days did the whole people gather in one place. At most of their other meetings the women were separated from the men so that they could each worship without distraction, or at least so that, the women being occupied with the care of their infants, the men could worship in peace. 'What is this?' an old woman said with frustration.

'Mother Oridna,' Amarin said with a respectful bow, 'I am on an errand from the Wisemen. I have been sent by Wise Sazo himself.'

'And this requires that you steal dear Ebbe from her worship of the Eternal King?' Oridna said, not even attempting to mask her suspicion.

'I am doing as I was asked,' he said, quite honestly. The Wisemen did not say, after all, that he must go straight to Abbon, or go to Abbon alone.

Oridna sighed, finding that she could not find any reason to openly accuse him of lying. 'Ebbe, dear,' she said kindly. 'Go on and help a friend.'

A young girl with light brown curls rose eagerly from the place where she had been kneeling. She brushed the grass from her skirts and hurried away from the other girls.

Giretta, kneeling beside Ebbe, looked jealously at her friend as she departed. A sniff from Oridna quickly turned Giretta's mind back to things of the heavens.

Almost as soon as they had rounded the hill Amarin took Ebbe's hand in his own and swirled her around into his embrace. She laughed and pushed at him. 'Stop it!' she said. 'Are we not on a mission of the utmost importance! You do not want to anger the Wisemen, after all!' Her tone revealed that she thought he was very likely trying to do just that.

'I am on a mission; that is true,' Amarin said. He kissed her lips and gave her braided hair a gentle tug.

This earned him a slap across the cheek. The young maidens of Thedval let their hair down for no man but their husbands. 'You want too much!' she said, not nearly as angrily as she wanted to sound. 'My mother did the braid this morning; do you think that she would not wonder how it is that my hair came undone? She will certainly hear of your coming.'

That thought seemed to trouble Amarin, and that moment of fearfulness seemed to thrill Ebbe more than anything else. He had not thought about that. Still, he was confident that he would find some way of explaining things. 'I needed help finding Teacher Abbon,' he said innocently. 'You are friends with Nihls, so I thought you would be good help in the search.'

'I am not friends with him!' she protested. 'That filthy boy!'

'Filthy?' Amarin laughed. 'You don't forgive do you?' he scolded. The Enthedu were supposed to forgive every wrong.

'I forgive him,' she said icily, 'but that doesn't change what he did!'

'Ah, but that was a long while ago,' Amarin defended the young man. 'Besides, who can blame him?' he said, his eyes working their way down her dress and his hand moving toward her braid once more.

After another slap he let her go and the two began walking toward the village.

Amarin laughed, partly because of the slap, but mainly because it had now been nearly ten years since poor Nihls had been caught near the bathing pool on a women's day. In truth he had gone there to stop Amarin and some other boys from spying on Giretta and some of the other girls, but the boys punched him and pushed him into the water, leaving him to be discovered by the girls and their mothers' alone.

He said nothing to them about what had really happened, and so he was the only one who got in any trouble. He could not sit for nearly a week after that, though, and it made him quite the jest among his peers. Ebbe was among the bathers at the time, and never fully forgot the 'stupid, sheepish face' Nihls wore when he realized where he had been pushed into the water.

'You are just as bad, Amarin,' Ebbe complained, her pace quickening with her temper. 'Tell me the truth for once, Amarin,' she demanded. 'Have you ever gone peeping at the bathing pool?'

'I have told you before what I am telling you now,' Amarin said without any insincerity. 'I am telling you that I have never "gone peeping" anywhere.'

The answer seemed to satisfy her and they continued on in silence for a time as their minds shifted to other things.

Amarin owed Nihls a great deal, he recalled. Not only had Nihls taken the blame for what happened at the pool, he had also taught Amarin how to lie without lying - a most useful trick.

Ironically, Nihls never lied, but yet he had taught his friends how to deceive anyone for any reason with any story but without actually saying anything that was not true. He had meant it only as a jest, but Amarin and the other young men had taken up the practice with great enthusiasm.

The Enthedu, as people who believe that the Truth is more important even than life itself, do not think very highly of lying. There are stories told among them of men who would not lie even to god-hunters and Doctrai who searched for more victims. They would not necessarily give their kin and friends over into their enemy's hands, but they would not mislead them, regardless of the cost. One man even famously said, 'Let us all perish from the earth; I will not give life to the Dragon through my lips.'

The question arose among the young men once of whether or not it would be right to lie to such men. Sazo's favorite pupil, a tall and strong young man named Noro, argued most passionately that no man should ever speak a lie - not for any reason. 'It says in the Scriptures, "Lie not at all."' he had told them all, with enough fury in his face to silence any opponent.

But Nihls laughed and said, 'But that does not mean, "Deceive not at all."'

When the reasons of this strange statement were demanded, Nihls had said, with a hint of a grin upon his face, 'Even nature deceives, and in the Scriptures of the Essenes the Eternal King himself lays traps for prideful men.'

'But traps are not words,' Noro had argued. 'If the Eternal King speaks falsely, wherein can we believe anything that is said in the Scriptures?'

'Still,' Nihls said, 'it is in the Scriptures that the Eternal King laid a mat over the pit into which the evil king Ghrisgon fell, and laid it over the pit so that he would think the pit to be part of the road.'

'But he did not speak a lie!' Noro insisted.

'That is true,' Nihls had said. 'But you must confess that it is not an evil to deceive at least. Unless it is evil for the Eternal King as well.'

After some thought Noro reluctantly agreed, 'But nowhere in the Scriptures does it ever say that it as alright to lie!'

'But you do not have to lie to deceive, even with your words,' Nihls explained. 'If you add the words "I am telling you" or "I am saying" to whatsoever you wish to lie about, behold, it is no longer a lie, for you are indeed saying it, and telling it, whether or not it, by itself, is the truth. Either way, it is the truth that you are speaking it.'

After a few moments of thought Noro and the others burst into laughter, and each of them had since used the technique to avoid some kind of difficult situation. Amarin had made something of an art out of it, however, and could lead everyone in Thedval about by the nose without ever actually speaking anything that was less than true. Nihls, however, did not seem to be able to even use his own trick to save himself from trouble. It was partly because of this that Giretta could beat him down so terribly. He could not lie to her; and that would not make for a happy marriage.

After a while they came to the center of the village where most of the working people kept shops and storefronts. The village was all but empty due to the meeting, which drew nearly everyone to the Burial Place every second Thedsday, which was the day set apart for such things. Usually there would still be some people remaining in the village to get some extra work done or to get a little peace and quiet, but the people emptied the village when they heard that Abbon's teachings were finally to be discussed by the Wisemen.

Everyone had heard about the meeting, apparently, except for Teacher Abbon himself. 'Did Teacher Sazo really say he did not know why Abbon was not at the meeting?' Ebbe laughed. She hadn't quite figured out Amarin's trick, but she knew that one could not simply take everything he said to be the truth entire.

'Yeah, he did,' Amarin answered, 'as if it was not because he had asked him to stay away from the meetings in the first place.'

Ebbe shook her head. Most of the youths of Thedval at least liked Teacher Abbon, and he had never been any trouble to anyone. They did not understand everything the Wisemen discussed and debated about his teachings, but they saw no reason to dislike the man.

Ducking around a corner Amarin took advantage of their solitude to steal a kiss or two from Ebbe before they continued their search. As they rounded the corner to return to the street, however, they saw Ilder the Huntsman approaching.

'Your search would be quicker, Amarin,' he laughed knowingly, 'if the two of you were to split up, and if you first searched the Teacher's home before checking the alleys.'

Amarin smirked and Ebbe's face turned bright red. 'That is what I have been telling him, master Ilder,' Ebbe answered quickly. 'He said he heard a sound this way, and...'

'Let us check the Teacher's house,' Ilder interrupted her, obviously unwilling to suffer through poor excuses. 'The people are waiting, and Sazo is teaching in the meanwhile. That is reason enough to hurry.'

Ilder was a hard man, and stood somewhat aloof from most of what happened in the village of Thedval. He dwelt in the woods and made his living selling hides and pelts as well as lumber. He was old enough, in the eyes of the young men, to be thought of as one of the Wisemen, but still strong enough to be considered a young man by some of the older folk, though there were several specks of gray in his black hair.

With Ilder walking upon their heels Amarin and Ebbe quickly found their way to Abbon's home, where the teacher spent the majority of his hours.

Abbon had spent most of his life as a farmer, studying the Scriptures of the Enthedu every night and plowing the fields every day. He had insight, he was told in his younger days, and was encouraged to study to become a Wiseman.

The Wisemen were men who had read all the Scriptures at least twice and who had memorized at least three of the Discourses of Theodysus, including his final discourse with the Dragon before he was taken up to the stars. Having accomplished all this, Abbon was given the title of Wiseman and given men to teach - and anyone who taught from the Scriptures was called a Teacher.

But it soon became apparent that his strong mind was also an independent one, and some among the other Wisemen did not like the sorts of things he had been teaching, though none denied that he had a gift for it. When he was permitted to teach, the children loved his stories and his explanations, even seeking him out at other times of the week and on Thedsdays when no meetings were held.

But Sazo had asked that the children not be sent to him by the Wisemen, and that he only be permitted to teach those whose parents had given express permission. Nihls, whose parents had both died before these sorts of doubts were raised concerning Teacher Abbon, could not be consulted, and so Nihls was free to visit him as he pleased, and learn whatever he had to say. Most of the other parents simply remained silent, although Noro's father had expressly forbidden him from even speaking to 'the fool Abbon' - and Noro was very happy to obey him.

Amarin and Ebbe were not surprised, then, to find that Nihls was already at the Teacher's house. What did surprise them, however, was the fact that he was holding a sword.

The Sword And The Teacher

Blest Yulin the warrior, as the hapless youth who once foolishly raised his sword against the Black Adder Candor Proud had come to be called, had left the Enthedu with a short work entitled, 'The Sword.' In it he described the teachings of Blest Candorion concerning the use of violence and killing. This work was a portion of the Scriptures of the Enthedu, and expressly forbid what it referred to as, 'sword-slaying'. In obedience to this the Enthedu did not use any weapons, whether swords or spears, axes or bows. 'Axes are tools for the lumberman, bows are tools for the hunter, but spears and swords are tools for murder,' a common saying went among them. There were a few men in Thedval who owned swords despite this, but they were treated as ornaments or memorials of ancient battles, and they were not thought of as weapons of defense.

'Where did you get that?' Amarin asked in amazement. For his part he was more thrilled at the sight of something forbidden than he was concerned for his friend's possession of something almost universally condemned by the Wisemen.

'It was my father's,' Nihls said nervously, the look on his face making it plain that he had not expected to be found with it. He stood beside a great brown horse with a long black mane. Nihls patted the horse as he spoke. 'It is one of the few things that he had not received from the Enthedu.'

'Our power is in forgiveness,' Ilder said firmly, but not angrily. He did look somewhat uneasy near the sword. He was a hard man, and a hunter, but when it came to the harming of people his hardness melted away.

'I know,' Nihls began, the words pouring from his mouth rapidly. 'It is only because...'

'Where is your Teacher?' Ilder interrupted him. 'The Wisemen are waiting for him at the Burial Place; they are discussing his teachings today.'

'He is teaching right now,' Nihls said, tilting his head toward the back garden of Abbon's home. When he had grown too old to farm Abbon had sold his farm and everything on it to Garam, who now rented it to another family.

They passed Nihls by, each one of them staring at the sword as they went; Amarin with envy, Ebbe with terror and Ilder with a suspicious look in his eyes. They came to a lush garden with high fences to which were attached many vines bearing a tremendous load of ripe and nearly ripe squash. There were bushes with plump berries gently tugging the branches toward the ground and a smell of sweetness in the air. There were only three children there to be taught, and Abbon sat upon the edge of a small stone fountain with the children seated on cushions on the grass.

'But what does it mean?' one of the youths asked him. 'What is so bad about possibility? Why did Theodysus have to unmake the Dragon?'

'There was a man,' Abbon began, closing his eyes mournfully as he searched his memory for what he believed to be one of the saddest moments of his life. 'many years ago - a student of mine from a time when I was not very wise. I am, perhaps, not wise still, but I am, I hope, at least less unwise.'

The children looked at him with great interest as he continued his story. 'This man had a daughter,' his eyes looked as though they might burst into tears at any moment as he looked at the children, 'she was about your age, Donel,' he said. 'She was the most beautiful child. She was strong and healthy for all her life, and full of kindness and joy. She was a treasure. A treasure.'

'What happened?' Donel asked, discerning by his teacher's melancholy expression that this story did not hold anything good in store for this girl.

'She grew ill. A long fever at first, but nothing out of the ordinary. She did not regain her full strength, though, and soon she began to be sick more and more often, and then she fell asleep for a week. And then,' Abbon drew a deep breath before continuing, 'and then she died.' He spread his hands apart as if to say that there was nothing more to be said about it. 'She died, as so many do.'

Ilder and the others took seats nearby so as not to disturb him in the middle of his lesson. Nihls came in behind them, without the sword, and took a seat beside Amarin.

'The girl's father came to me and asked me, "Is the Eternal King good?" And I could only but answer him that I believed that he was good. But he pressed me further, asking, "Then why should my daughter have suffered? Why should she have died? What manner of King is he, who would make a child to suffer?"

'It was to answer such questions that Theodysus had come; it was because of such things that he came to teach us, and to unmake the Dragon. For the problem with this poor man was not that his daughter had died; the problem was that the Dragon's lies had not been fully driven from his mind. They worked within him and brought about death - not death to his body. Death is a trifle to the Enthedu. He lost sight of the Eternal King, who is truth.'

'But we wanted to know about what Theodysus said to the Dragon,' Donel reminded his teacher.

Abbon nodded and continued, wiping a tiny drop from his cheek. 'I am sorry. Now, let me think for a moment. You see, this man had a daughter, and that daughter grew sickly and died. How could he be outraged that she did not live longer, when it was impossible for her to do so. For it was true that she lived only a while, and true that she died. To live on and without illness would make her something else. She would no longer partake in the truth, and she would no longer be his daughter. His daughter died. But this creature - the creature of wish - did not, and therefore is not his daughter. It is the Dragon who gives to us the idea that something could have been different from what it is or was. Look at the world, watch it from beginning to end, there is only Truth - there is never a "could be," a "maybe," or a "might have been." There is only the Truth, as Theodysus said to the Dragon. What is this "could have been" and this "it was possible" but a lie? It is not truth, for truth always is. Seeing other girls live, and calling them all by the name "girls," he said to himself, "girls can live on." And so when his own daughter perished, he thought that, like the others, she could have lived. But it is not our names that make things as they are. He said to me that he wanted to give his daughter away in marriage, and dance at the Burial Place for her wedding, and not weep there over her rotting corpse!'

The children were silent and their faces grim and sad.

'Do you see, children, what the Dragon had wrought within him, and how it had darkened his mind. His daughter; his actual daughter, whom he professed to love, he rejected and despised, clinging to the idea of a daughter that was not, could not be, and would never be his. He rejected his daughter for a phantasm of the Dragon - for an illusion of the Great Liar. And if this was not bad enough,' Abbon's face filled with anger as he thought about it, 'the Dragon is never content with destroying a man's hope by lies - saying to him that his daughter, who died, could have lived. But the man left the Enthedu cursing, not only the Eternal King who, he felt, had taken his daughter from him, but also cursing himself,' Abbon laid great stress on this last word, 'He cursed himself for failing her, for the Dragon convinced him that there were many things HE could have done differently. And so he, thinking of all those wretched possibilities, lost the peace that Theodysus had brought to the world.

'The Eternal King, my children,' Abbon said, tears now streaming from his face, 'has made all of us, just as we are. He has made us and specially chosen each of us, to live, to grow, and even to die. Sometimes to die young. But death is no evil to those who are in the Eternal King's hand. For he, being in all times, cannot be robbed. For even if a man passes away, he does not pass out of the hands of he who holds all men without changing. To know him is to know Truth, for he is the Name - the Hidden Name of Truth. But to know of all these "could be's" is to know nothing, for "could be's" are nothing, and they do not partake in the truth. They are born from the Dragon's mouth and planted in our hearts by careless and idle thought.

'My children,' Abbon finished, 'Do not lose sight of the Truth as that poor man did. Do not follow after the Dragon and his lies. They are tempting and sweet - a better wife, a better dinner, a daughter that does not leave you in death - who could not desire such things? But each of them leads you away from the Truth. Do not follow the lies of the Dragon, which tempt you to follow with empty promises. They and they alone are the path to despair.'

'But you said that Theodysus unmade the dragon,' Donel protested. 'But how can the Dragon still deceive us?'

Abbon answered saying, 'The Dragon, being nothingness, cannot be defeated any more than he can be triumphant. But to the soul who is blinded by his lies he is very real. And though Theodysus walked the path ahead of us, and marked the trail as it were, the Dragon is not dead until he is dead within you as well as in the Far North where he is said to have met his end. Until each and every one of you faces the Dragon,' his eyes rose and fell on Nihls as he finished, 'he lives.'

Ilder himself was brushing tears from his eyes when at last the children were dismissed. Abbon rose from his seat with an effort and came forward. 'Ah, Ilder,' he said, addressing the eldest of his guests first, which was in accordance with the customs of the Enthedu. 'Amarin and Ebbe too,' he said with a look of joy upon his face.

'We have not come to visit, I am sorry,' Ilder said, not wanting to mislead the old Teacher.

'I know, I know,' Abbon said. 'You have come to fetch me for the meeting.'

'You know about the meeting?' Amarin said with surprise.

'I do, I was told quite clearly that they would be discussing my lessons today,' Abbon replied.

'But you did not come?' Ilder asked.

'I was told of the meeting,' the old man laughed, 'but I was not told, or asked for that matter, to come to it.'

'But you know what they mean to decide?' Ilder said, not entirely making it clear whether it was a question or a statement.

'If I had gone to the meeting, unbidden though I was, I would have had my robes torn and my title stripped from me by now. But then what of Donel and his friends? How would I teach them if I was no longer a Teacher? I would not go against the Wisemen,' Abbon said.

'But even if you do not go you will be forbidden to teach,' Ilder said confusedly.

'Indeed, but had I gone earlier, I would not have been able to explain the doctrines of Theodysus to these children this day.'

'You are a true Teacher in heart, Abbon,' Ilder said, rising from his seat. 'But the others are waiting for us, and these youths were sent to find you.'

Ebbe's face turned red and Amarin shrugged - one of them had indeed been sent.

Abbon nodded, he did not want them to get in trouble. He was likely to lose everything he had worked his whole life for, but he did not want a few youths to get in trouble.

'Do you need Urian, Teacher?' Nihls asked, making his way back toward the horse.

'No,' Abbon said as he left the garden. He walked over and laid his hand gently upon the horse's neck. 'No, I don't think that I will need Urian any longer. Will you look after him, Nihls?'

'I will, Teacher,' Nihls said, not understanding Abbon's strange words.

Into Exile

About half an hour passed before Teacher Abbon made it to the Burial Place. The people seemed happy to see him, both because he was generally well liked and because it would make an end of Teacher Sazo's lesson. Sazo was speaking impassionedly, which meant that he was nearing the end of his talk. This was no comfort, however, as the people knew that he would just start another lesson and then another until Abbon arrived.

And so the trial of Teacher Abbon began.

Each of the village Wisemen asked at least one question of him; Sazo asked at least a dozen, and most of the questions asked by the others had clearly originated with him.

They had a lengthy discussion about the use of wine, and Sazo made it a point to emphasize that, of all the Wisemen, Abbon was the only one who would not drink any wine at all. 'Wisdom,' Abbon said, 'is what makes a man a man and not a goblin. That is your own doctrine, Teacher Sazo, as well as mine. I will not surrender reason for any reason. You and the others can do as you wish. I don't know how to make this sound better to your ears. I do not speak against you, however, I speak only for myself. If you press me, how can I respond but by censuring you - which is the very last thing I intend. I must obey conscience. Leave it at that, and we will have no further controversy.'

A number of questions were utterly ridiculous, and, Nihls thought irefully, meant to make a mockery of the man so that, by the time any real issues were to be discussed, he would be thought a fool.

'It is said that you teach that there is nothing after death, is this so?' Sazo asked him with a sneer.

'It is not so,' Abbon answered gently, 'and I have never taught so. He who accuses me has misunderstood me.' It was Sazo who had come up with that question, and so the questioner quite rightly took offense at his answer.

'I heard you with my own ears, Teacher Abbon,' Sazo said, almost spitting out the word 'Teacher.'

'Hearing and understanding are best when they work together,' Abbon answered, 'but though you cannot have understanding without hearing, you can have hearing by itself.'

'You said that the soul does not ascend to the heavens after the death of the body. But yet we have been promised a life unending,' Sazo continued. 'What have we striven for all these generations, if you now are to teach us that our hope is a lie?'

'I have taught no such thing...' Abbon began.

'But I heard you myself!' Sazo protested.

'Heard, yes,' Abbon said. 'You are what you are and you are living now, right now,' Abbon attempted an explanation. 'No man can know perfectly what is to come in the future. We can trust, and hope perhaps, but our hope is not in what might be, but rather in what is - our hope is in the truth, which does not permit of moments, either before or after. If we have hope it is because the Eternal King holds all times in his hand, and cannot lose anything. And the Scriptures say much the same, when this life is ended, we go to him, not he to us, as if he needed to enter the world and raise us to our feet again. Maybe he will, I cannot say - but that is not the hope that is within us. Our hope is not a hope like the elves and men of Alwan have, where they think to themselves that, perhaps this year, or maybe in ten years, peace will come and happiness with it. If our hope was such a looking for things to come in the world, then we would be as other men, pining after the future – and always fearing it. But Theodysus did not teach that we could, someday, somehow, find the abode of the Eternal King like a man discovers a new valley or a new plane. No, we can find him now, and we can live where he lives now - for every moment of our lives stands before him, and he cannot lose a single day of our lives, though we can lose many for ourselves.'

'Do you see?' Sazo said, 'It is much the same in every line of questioning. He has no regard for our Scriptures, which teach that when death has come to the body, the soul goes to the heavens.'

'I have,' Abbon said with a pause, 'a proper regard for the Scriptures.' His face grew hard and grim as he spoke, for he knew that he had spoken something the Wisemen would not be willing to overlook.

'Do you doubt,' the village elder, an old man named Inslen, said cautiously, 'that our Scriptures were spoken to the Blest ones by the Eternal King himself, who said that his truth would remain with us and in us?'

'He spoke that of the truth,' Abbon said, almost pleading with them for understanding, 'The truth which the Scriptures constantly declare to be the Hidden Name itself, and not any books or creeds.'

There was a riotous clamor from the onlookers, and a great murmur arose. Some of the men began calling for his exile that very moment, and others turned to one another and said how glad they were that they had not sent their children to be taught by him.

'The Scriptures are true, and without them we would not be,' Sazo said, and the elder nodded approval at his saying. 'How else shall men learn the truth of Theodysus, if they cannot trust the record of his teachings.'

'His teachings are within every heart already,' Abbon said. 'And I cannot make the Scriptures say what they do not say - that the Scriptures themselves were spoken by the Eternal King. I would rather men look to the Truth which stands imperishable within, than look to that which, we who have seem the pages thereof, know to have seen decay over the years. The truth is imperishable, but pages fade and burn.'

'Get him out of here!' Inslen shouted, rising from his seat with a red face.

'A vote! A vote!' Sazo shouted, and all the Wisemen rose quickly, their sudden movement silencing the crowd.

'I have only ever tried to speak the Truth,' Abbon said quietly, but no one heard him, and certainly no one but Nihls understood him.

The Wisemen rose and faced him, all but one of them raising their left hand toward him - a sign of rejection. From that hour forward, no man was to speak or dine with him, until he condescended to the commands of the Wisemen.

'I labored for many years to become a Wiseman,' Abbon laughed. 'Shall men take my wisdom from me? Did men give it to me when I was raised to the council?' He shook his head and breathed slowly and carefully. 'I love every one of you,' he said firmly, 'And I hope with all my heart that I have erred, and that it is for your good that I depart. But I do not believe it to be true. Farewell, Enthedu. Farewell, brother Sazo.'

Sazo looked at him with anger and said only, 'My brother is he who abides in the truth.'

Nihls made as if to follow his teacher, but Abbon shook his head. 'No, child. You have learned well from me. Do not cast off these people for my sake. I have lived my life and finished my work, if any among you know the teachings of Theodysus better for having sat at my feet. Stay; they will need men like you in the days to come. That much my old eyes see clearly, even if I am wrong about everything else. Flood and fire comes to this land, as our Scriptures say.'

'If you doubt yourself,' Noro said, rising from his seat and approaching the old Teacher, 'then how can you say that you have taught the truth?' He was not supposed to speak to the exile, but he was irate, and did not think of the customs.

'What is doubt, dear Noro?' Abbon asked gently. 'How can a man doubt what is knowledge? Doubt shows a man that what he knows, he does not know well enough. But what can show a man that his thoughts are insufficient but that which is sufficient - I mean, that which is truth itself? Doubt is the voice of Truth. If you silence it, then, whatever you believe, you believe blindly. And blindness is not the way of Theodysus.'

'Teacher Sazo is right to banish you, then,' Noro said, approaching the old man angrily, 'If you speak so highly of doubt, when we are to know the Truth and not doubt it.' Nihls moved as if to stand between them and for a moment the two young men locked eyes. 'Be gone, and take all of your nonsense along with you.' Noro clearly meant Nihls when he said 'nonsense.'

Abbon bowed low to the ground, his old bones bringing his forehead to touch the ground. He rose and walked slowly down toward his house, and from there into the south and out of memory. Nihls wept and fled from the Burial Place while the Wisemen attempted to restore peace to the puzzled and confused audience.

Scandals

The Enthedu recovered from the loss of the old Teacher rather quickly, most of them feeling that he ought to have been exiled long ago for teachings such strange things. Some thought that perhaps age had overtaken his good sense, and that he ought to have at least been permitted to dwell in the village, though not be permitted to teach. All of Abbon's pupils who were yet under twenty years of age were sent to Sazo to be instructed. Nihls, however, refused, and since his parents were no longer living, was left alone. He also no longer attended the meetings at the Burial Place.

'He just sits at his home working with that sword,' Amarin said when the young women of the village asked about him before the meeting one week. Giretta laughed nervously as she walked alongside Amarin and Ebbe.

'What does he do with it?' Ebbe asked.

'He sharpens it, I think,' Amarin said, though he wasn't sure what Nihls could be doing with the sword. If he was sharpening it, it ought to be sharpened already, he thought. But Nihls never seemed to be finished with it. 'He practices with it too,' Amarin added. 'Perhaps he means to use it to slay the Dragon.'

'Does he even know how to use a sword?' Giretta laughed, feeling embarrassed by the entire conversation. She laughed, but only to show the others that she, also, found the whole thing ridiculous. She was intended to marry Nihls, according to the agreement that had been made between her father and Nihls' parents. It was not impossible for them to alter this arrangement, but to break an agreement with a dead man would bring scandal upon both their houses - something that Garam would avoid at any and all costs.

'Don't the Scriptures forbid swords?' Ebbe asked.

'He says,' Amarin answered, 'that they forbid only killing with the sword, though I do not know what else they could be used for.'

'And he has not been seen at a meeting since the exile,' Ebbe said, as if she were making a tally of his faults.

'He has always been a strange one,' Noro said as they approached the meeting place.

When he looked at them Giretta blushed and looked at her shoes. 'Noro must think I am quite ridiculous to be bound to the fool Nihls,' she thought bitterly to herself.

And there beside Noro stood none other than Meidi, whose family was as honorable as Sazo's and who had inherited the beauty of her ancestor, the Blest Leai Eslunana, consort of Blest Candorion himself.

'What are you talking about?' Meidi asked with an eager grin on her face. She always seemed to be looking for someone to mock, as if her unrivaled beauty would be all the more lofty the lower her fellows were beaten down.

'What do you think we were talking about?' Ebbe snickered.

Amarin's fingers had crawled up toward her braids but Ebbe grabbed them in her fist and squeezed, her face growing red and wrathful.

Noro laughed heartily.

'Oh yes,' Amarin said, shaking his newly freed fingers and wincing. 'We were talking about Nihls and his sword.'

'I don't understand why it is permitted,' Meidi said. 'You know what the Scriptures say.'

'They say,' Amarin began, doing his best imitation of Nihls' quiet tone, 'that you can do whatever you want with a sword, so long as you don't kill anyone with it.'

'How will you ever manage him?' Meidi asked, the soft skin of her palm resting on Noro's strong forearm as if she were steadying herself while she giggled.

Giretta knew exactly what she was doing, and she wasn't holding onto Noro for stability.

Giretta stood silent for a moment, but she could think of nothing to say. Tears very nearly broke out of her face as she stood there humiliated.

Ebbe, seeing her distress, said quickly, 'Wives have ways, my father says. If they really want something, there is little a man can do about it - except make his entire life a misery. He will come to see sense, I am sure.'

'If anyone would be willing to make their whole life a misery,' Noro chuckled, 'it would be Nihls!'

The others laughed, and nodded as they conceded his point.

Some time ago Nihls had argued openly with Teacher Sazo about a lesson he gave on the goodness of the Eternal King.

'The Eternal King,' Sazo had said, 'wants nothing more than that his creatures be happy and well. If he wanted something else, then he would not be the greatest of all gods, and we would, therefore, be quite wrong to worship him.'

Nihls had protested that, 'What we might see as good for ourselves might not be what is good in the eyes of the King, and so giving us what we want for the sake of our happiness might be, in his eyes, an iniquity. Moreover, happiness does not always come. It did not come for the Essene holy men, nor did it come for the Blest, who only through great sorrow and difficulty found their way to Alwan and built this village.'

'You speak ignorantly,' Sazo had said, 'because you do not know the power of the Eternal King, who can and will do everything his worshippers ask him to do. That much is written in the Scriptures!'

'But he who worships him will ask according to the wishes of the King, and not his own desires. He who wills against the King, worships him not,' Nihls had added, quietly. He could not bring himself to oppose the Teacher any further on the matter.

'In that case,' Giretta said to the others, trying to regain her composure, 'I will have to make him a VERY happy man.' She looked straight at Noro as she spoke, and in her heart she meant for him to see that she was capable of forwardness like Meidi. But she felt sick almost as soon as she had spoken.

Meidi just laughed politely; Noro and the others looked at her with surprise, though they seemed amused by it on the whole.

Giretta then added sheepishly, and by way of explanation, 'so that he will be as miserable as he wishes to be.'

As they stood there looking at her, the voice of Sazo himself rose over everything else, and the youths realized that it was time for them to separate. Amarin gave Ebbe a little kiss on the cheek after making sure that no one, aside from his friends, was looking. Meidi released Noro's arm at last, but she slid it ever so gently down toward his wrist before parting from him.

Giretta shook her head and followed the girls toward Oridna's grove, where the young women were to be gathered.

Meidi took her arm in her own and leaned in toward her with a bright smile. Even her teeth seemed to be perfect, Giretta thought bitterly. Her own teeth were not bad, she knew, but when Meidi opened her mouth it was like starlight set within a lush red apple. The young women of Thedval were forbidden to wear paint upon their faces - lest the goblins be drawn to them despite their plain attire. If Meidi was not wearing paint upon her lips, Giretta swore, then she must be some kind of goddess.

That, at least, she did not believe to be the case.

'It looks like I am the only one not spoken for,' Meidi said quietly as she gestured toward Ebbe and Amarin. 'What do you think of Noro?'

Giretta's heart sunk. That was a question that she could never answer truthfully. She could not say how Noro filled her thoughts and dreams day and night, and that she felt weak kneed and foolish in his presence. She could say none of those things because her father had been overly friendly with Nihls' parents more than a decade ago. Nihls' father had done a few favors for Garam, and so Giretta had to marry Nihls. 'Perhaps Nihls was right,' she thought to herself, 'we are not meant for happiness.' Then, looking at Meidi's wicked grin she added, 'Not all of us, at least.'
[Chapter II:  
The Broken Peace](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Kingdoms At War

'Fate will burn me up from within,' Pelas said to his counsellors from atop his father's throne in Alwan, 'if I do not act. The old man is gone,' he said, referring to his father, 'but still that devil stands beside me as an equal. The contest has ended, but no winner has stood forth.'

'What would you have us do?' Maru asked. The high elves of Bel Albor had assembled before him, including many of those who had served his father Parganas. The chief of these was the warrior Maru, who had, in ancient days, taught Pelas the use of the sword and spear.

Maru was a strong and noble man, but he never did more than what Pelas asked. At least he did what was asked of him for honor's sake. Cheru and Oblis were wont to do what they thought to be more than necessary while somehow forgetting what was necessary. If Pelas sent them to form an alliance, they returned with the heads of those who they were meant to treat with. Of late Pelas had assigned them to be the guardians of Falruvis, who was Master of the Doctrai.

Falruvis was not really under any illusions about the supposed divine nature of his master. But he was content to drive away belief in any other gods. If that meant that the people would abandon belief, so be it - they would still have to believe in Pelas' authority, if not his divinity. His chief concern, and he was quite open about it, was that no form of worship should threaten the civil power. And to this end he and his sons worked quite hard.

'Dalta was mine from the beginning,' Pelas began. 'He was with us in the Swamps when first I departed from Lord Parganas' hall. For thousands of years he was in my council, but for an age now he has played the rebel, siding neither with the devil or with me. But to side with no one in this contest is to side against me, and therefore with my rival. He has made himself an enemy and a traitor.'

'I will go and take Ilvas, my Lord Pelas,' Cheru said boldly. 'Give me a thousand men and I will make an end of Dalta's folly.'

Pelas laughed, 'I am sure that is what you would set out to do, dear Cheru, strong in hand and heart. I am sending the Doctrai, and ten thousand men under the banner of my father, under the command of Lord Maru. You will go as well, of course,' he added when Cheru began to look disappointed. Pelas was only happy when he had what he wanted, and he wanted his servants to serve him happily. If any man seemed less than eager to do his will, Pelas was capable of doing anything, condescending to any request to see his servants happy. To acquire wives for his favorite servants he had executed several of his father's most faithful servants and given their wives away as prizes. Thankfully neither Cheru or Oblis had yet had the fortune, or misfortune as the case may be, to have fathered any children.

These fools were his most devoted followers, however, although one might argue that Bralohi was the most faithful. Pelas could not allow them to be disappointed for long, and even if they were unfit to lead a mission, they were not unfit to follow. Indeed, they were not as skillful as Falruvis and his sons, or as wise as Kolohi or Sol, but they were strong, and their many years had given them a degree of skill that would be hard for any mortal man to attain.

'I want to cross the Thedul River again,' Pelas said, 'and not to call upon Lord Dalta,' he said the world 'Lord' with a jeer, 'for treaties or agreements. I mean to rule up to the Esse River herself, and then see what Fate has in store for me.' By this the others assumed he meant that he would see if somehow he could overthrow Sunlan and take the Golden Palace away from his brother Agonas.

And so it was that within the space of two months following this meeting the Kingdom of Ilvas and the Kingdom of Alwan were at war, with the army of Pelas marching steadily toward Ilvas. They crossed the Thedul in the early autumn and regained control of the whole region of Lushlin in a matter of weeks. The elves who ruled there - elves always seem to rule, wherever they dwell - still remembered their old master Lohi and his wisdom and kindness. They were not happy to see more war, but they were glad to see something like the old order of things making an appearance.

Pelas' sent more and more warriors, most of them human, to fortify the towns on the eastern shores of the Thedul River. But these gains came too quick, and the army of Alwan was not planted deep enough in the land. Dalta countered them, and sent his own armies against him, and sent messages to Sunlan for aid. He also sent emissaries to the dwarves of the Talon Mountains, who were, for the greater part, descendants of the Sparkans. Some of these dwarves answered his call quickly, along with and a great force of Lupith mercenaries from Sunlan and eastern Ilvas.

By the time winter fell upon the land, Pelas was all but driven from Ilvas, having lost all of his gains along the northern stretch of the Thedul River. He lost no ground in the Swamps of Lushlin, however, and he sent Bralohi and his brother to rule over that land, giving them the old honors that had belonged to their father Lohi. But whereas Lohi had opposed Alwan, his sons were faithful to Pelas, and so united the Swamplands with Alwan in a way that had not existed since the first years of Parganas' kingdom.

Not content to let things lie as they had fallen, Dalta ordered Amro and a force chiefly comprised of elvish warriors and dwarf heroes to recapture the eastern banks of the Thedul River. Their campaign was to begin in Thedua itself, and it was meant to secure for Ilvas all the territory down to the Lushlin Lake in the south.

These conflicts created havoc throughout the region, and many people fled from the fighting, some to Lushlin, where Bralohi and his brother held the land secure, and some to the north, where they inevitably came to find the peculiar people of Theodysus.

The Harvest

It was harvest time when the first of these refugees found themselves in what appeared to them to be a land of dreams. Upon every fence was wrapped vines with plump berries and every tree limb hung low because of the weight of the apples that pulled upon the branches. Every field was lush and green, just about ready to be harvested against the coming winter. Whatever else they might learn of the inhabitants of the valley, they could tell at once that they were a hardworking people, and a people well prepared for the coming cold.

The first of these men came to call upon Garam's farm, and were given a place in an old farmhouse. Soon Sazo and the other Wisemen all took people onto their land, some even into their own homes. Ilder took at least three dozen families into the woods and guided them in the construction of cabins, helping each family prepare a place for the winter. For the most part these people were welcome in Thedval, for there was plenty of food to be harvested that year, and were it not for all the extra hands, much of it would have rotted in the fields before it could be gathered.

Nihls gave up his parent's land for the use of several refugees who seemed to know a good deal more about farming than he. He packed up his belongings and took up residence in Abbon's home in the village, much to the frustration of Teacher Sazo and the Wisemen. All that he brought with him was a small chest filled with clothes, his sword and Abbon's old horse Urian, with whom he was seldom parted.

Nihls was the only person in Thedval who had openly supported Teacher Abbon, and having him dwell in the exiled Teacher's home did not sit well with anyone. The last thing any of the Wisemen wanted was for Abbon's teachings to make a resurgence. This danger was all the more present in Sazo's mind because he suspected that Nihls might already possess what qualifications he needed to be considered a Wiseman, though tradition generally restricted that appellation to those who had passed their thirtieth year.

Giretta refused to even walk by Abbon's house, and would not even speak to Nihls about anything pertaining to his living arrangement. 'They will think that you are trying to follow in his footsteps,' she warned him with frustration.

'It is sad to say, but it is true enough,' he replied, 'men will think as they wish.'

'At the very least you can put aside that wretched sword,' she said coldly.

'It is the very last thing that I have from my grandfather's father,' he said with a shrug. 'I know the laws of Thedval,' he said before she could remind him that swords were forbidden - in truth it was, according to their scriptures, sword-slaying that was forbidden. This argument they had already had, and neither thought it would be fruitful to say any more on the subject.

'What of your farm?' she asked, hoping he would reclaim the land. It was not much, but if she had to marry him the least he could do is retain what belonged to him so that they would have a home to dwell in.

'It was given to my grandfather as a gift,' he shrugged. 'I have no right to it.'

She shook her head and then, with a sigh, said her goodbyes.

As she stormed out of Abbon's old garden she caught a glimpse of Noro making his way up the street with Amarin and a few other young men. He came to face her for a moment and she raised her hand to wave to him, but he did not see her. The youths passed her by and she felt more alone than ever she had felt in her whole life.

It was not only the poor and the helpless, however, who made their way north in that day. There were many who fled, not from the villages and towns along the Thedul River, but from the fortresses and walled cities that were besieged and taken by Dalta's troops. Some of these warriors made their way into the valley of the Enthedu and, indistinguishable from the others, made their homes in the region. In this way it became known both to the spies of Dalta and to the lords of Alwan that there was a people, rich in grain and flock, living along the northern stretch of Thedul. Soon both Dalta and Pelas came to have an interest in the secreted valley.

Whoever took hold of this land would have access, not only to their resources, but to an easy crossing of the river, and a fortified position from which to assault their enemies.

In due course, emissaries arrived from Lord Pelas in Alwan; and among them was Daruvis, son of Falruvis, lord of the Doctrai.

He listened patiently to Teacher Sazo and some of the other Wisemen as they described their teachings and their doctrines. 'The Eternal King wants men to seek the welfare of their neighbors, and to bring joy and enjoyment to all,' Sazo said, as if he meant to persuade the elf lord that his wares were worth purchasing. 'Life in the God's arms now, and eternal life to follow in another time and place. These are not offerings to be shunned.'

'They sound lovely enough,' Daruvis replied politely, but without any sign that he was impressed by the doctrines or at all interested therein. 'But shall I trade what security and joy I have for something that no man can see or hold? That is bad business,' he said with a laugh. 'Show me what I am buying, and then I will know whether or not it is worth the gold.'

He left them with a warning, 'Stray not into the south, and make sure that your teachings do not stray either. The Doctrai are not as hungry for blood as the god-hunters of Sunlan, but they do not tolerate threats to our Lord Pelas, who, to our understanding, is the only true Eternal King. Regardless of what you do, however, do not neglect to offer that tribute which is due to Pelas - one fifth of what comes out of the ground and one tenth of what is born among your flocks. Send the grain and the sheep, and we will not concern ourselves any further with your doctrines.'

Sazo bowed obediently, and promised that the Enthedu would not disappoint him.

'Do not worry about pleasing me,' Daruvis said with a confident laugh. 'Worry about pleasing Lord Maru and his representatives. They have less patience than I.'

Zoor'Da

It was around this time that the dwarves, under the command of Zoor'Da, began to depart from Bel Albor. Those who had gone to fight for the Kingdom of Ilvas remained until the very end of all battles and perils, but the greater part of them left under the guidance of a powerful dwarf named Zoor'Da. Among the elves he was named Zoor the Hateful, for he learned of the coming destruction of Bel Albor from the Elementals long before any signs or marvels appeared among the elves, but he said nothing to them beside the fact that he was taking his people into the south.

Agonas sent Gheshtick to withstand them, and to see if they might be persuaded to remain, but their numbers were so great and their weapons all of dwarf make. Gheshtick dared not oppose their departure with aught more more than pleading words.

'They have heard it already,' Lord Folly laughed as he watched the dwarves board ship after ship, filling every sailing vessel in Evnai with the short, hairy descendants of the Sparkans. 'They have heard the rumblings of things to come.'

'There are still some among them who can hear the Elementals?' Sleep marveled. 'I thought that gift was doomed to pass from them.'

'Zoor was the last among them who will be able to hear them. Forever the dwarves will be hearers of the world, but no more shall they speak with the earth.'

'What is the reason for this change?' Sleep asked.

'What is the reason for anything?' Folly laughed. 'It just is; nothing lasts forever, except change - that is, time itself. There was a time when every dwarf could hear the voice of the earth, and the trained could discern even distant events clearly. They did everything in their power to foster this gift and to breed it into their children. But little by little it fled from them until only a few could manage it. Zoor'Da is the last of them - the last of the Old Dwarves. His race will ever be strong and cunning, but the spirit of Sparka will vanish from them in time, and no man will remember from whence they came.'

'Sad are all such passings,' Sleep said with a yawn.

'The age grows weary, brother,' Folly said, noting his brother's perpetual exhaustion. 'A new age shall come upon the world, and few of the old things will be remembered.'

Their brother Death, who stood close by, grinned; for he was lord over all passing away.
[Chapter III:  
The Marriage](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Bet

There was not, properly speaking, a tavern or an inn in Thedval. But the widow Hara's house served well enough for any who wished to find a hot meal for a few coins and a good supply of wine, ale and commiserate conversation. It was the eve of winter, and the air was chill and cold when Sazo entered the house and asked for a seat by the fireplace. Hara's had never been as busy as it was now that Thedval was filled to bursting with those fleeing the wars in the south. But the cold weather and the looming threat of an early snowfall kept most of the Enthedu at home making what preparations they saw fit to make. Giretta's father Garam was seated by the fire when Sazo entered, his tattered boots resting upon the hearth and with a half-filled mug of ale in his hand.

He sat up quickly when he saw Sazo approach, but the Wiseman man waved his hand to dismiss the honor. 'Stay, friend,' Sazo smiled. 'Your comfort is my comfort; do not contort yourself for the sake of honor.'

Garam laughed. 'Have you eaten, Sazo? Your woman hasn't forgotten how to cook has she?'

'She did the night before we wed,' Sazo jested, 'if ever she knew.'

'My dear Ola,' Garam mused, thinking of his late wife, 'could make everything but lamb. Though if she could ever bring herself to bring the knife against the little creature I am sure she would have done well with it.'

'How many years has it been now, friend?' Sazo said, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder.

'Too many,' Garam grunted, taking a big sip of ale. 'She passed on Winter's Day, seven years ago now - or, I should say, seven years ago on the morrow.'

'I am sorry friend,' Sazo said, 'I will help you drown your sadness, then.' Sazo knocked on the table gently and called for two mugs of ale. 'And I'll have some of whatever it is that smells so wonderful!' he called out in addition.

Soon a young serving girl brought a platter to him from the kitchen with a generous cut of mutton and a small loaf of bread. There was enough butter melted atop the mutton that he would have no need of butter or cheese for the bread. He took the loaf in his hand and broke it, handing half to Garam and dipping the other half into the softened butter.

The two spoke for a little longer of things forgotten, of things to come, of things important and things not. When enough of the ale had filled their heads they fell to grumbling about old Teacher Abbon; Garam wondered what had become of the man.

'He will be teachings his nonsense elsewhere I am sure,' Sazo said with a grave look on his face. 'And it will be all the more difficult to give the people of Theodysus a good name. Men will know the name Enthedu, but they will not know who we truly are.'

'Perhaps, then, we will need a new name,' Garam said.

'Perhaps,' Sazo laughed, 'but who will pick it?'

'It was Hearthon the Flightfoot who chose the name Enthedu, was it not?' Garam said.

'So the legends say; the Scriptures say nothing, however, so I cannot claim certainty,' Sazo replied. 'A new name,' he mused, half to himself.

At that moment the door swung open swiftly and the wind howled through the dining room, extinguishing every candle and very nearly the fireplace as well. But almost as soon as the door had opened it slammed shut behind a very, very angry young man. 'Curse my name for wanting to have good manners!' the young man hissed when the serving girl approached him nervously. She disappeared into the kitchen and peeked out a moment later as the widow Hara herself entered the dining room carrying a heavy broom as if she were ready to kill a rat or to do battle with a thief.

'Noro!?' she said with surprise. It was not like him at all to be so put out.

'I,' Noro began, sheepishly realizing that he had frightened everyone in the house. 'I am sorry, I forgot myself for a moment.'

'I hope your remember yourself now, Noro,' she said scoldingly, 'and I hope you remember me, and whose house you have entered, and whose door you have slammed.'

'I am sorry,' he said, his head hanging low. He seemed to be on the edge of weeping.

Sazo rose from his seat and approached the scene cautiously. 'Noro,' he said, gently, 'we have a seat over here, by the fire. Come, sit and speak with us, or at least just share an ale. Hara,' Sazo said, his eyebrows pleading for her mercies for the sake of the troubled young man. 'could you bring him something hot to eat. We will relight the candles for you, and tend the fire. Everything will be sorted out.' He nudged Noro gently in the direction of the fireplace and the two men walked over and joined Garam, who was just beginning to realize who it was that stormed into the dining room in that manner.

'Bandages and salves can mend a wound, but ale mends the battered heart,' Garam said, quoting an old saying.

Soon Noro was warmed and fed, leaning back in a chair finishing off a mug of ale.

'What is troubling you this Winter's Eve, young Noro?' Garam asked, his eyes filled with compassion.

'I had been courting a young woman,' he began, but Garam interrupted.

'Meidi, yes, of course, so my Giretta has told me,' he said with interest.

'Well, her father decided that she had waited too long on marriage and he betrothed her to Furinn, the carpenter's son,' Noro explained.

'You are jesting, surely!?' Sazo said with amazement. The parents in Thedval were always involved in the unions of their children - very involved by most standards. But nonetheless it was generally expected that a couple that was already in love should not be separated for the sake of the parents. 'I wonder what barter they must have struck!' Sazo said indignantly. 'This is not ordinary at all. I am sorry, Noro - it is not customary.'

'No, it is not!' Garam bellowed from beneath his mug. Sazo could not recall how many mugs Garam had drunk so far. 'Unless the children are overly stubborn, the parents ought to do no more than arrange the festivities for the wedding.'

'So says the man who sold his daughter to Abbon's pupil for a month's labor!' Sazo said, the ale clouding his discretion.

Garam grunted in frustration but soon seemed to forget the insult, turning his attention to the ale.

Noro took a drink from his own mug and then said, 'I guess if this is the King's will, we must accept it.'

'Is it also the King's will that Thaeton rule Alwan through his puppets the elves?' Garam asked. 'Is it also his will that children should die in wars, and their mothers starve in the wake of battle? Is it his desire that horror should fill every land to the brim? No, the Eternal King is good, Noro. He wants what is best for you - do not forget that. What manner of King would he be if he did not want the happiness and health of his people? Pelas is better than that at least! The King, therefore, must be all the more deeply concerned over these matters.'

In truth Garam himself had been feeling a bit slighted by fate. It was not, after all, for Noro's sorrows that he had come to Hara's to wash down his sadness in ale. His daughter was getting older, and Nihls was all but a man - he was a man, according to the customs of the Enthedu. He had cared for himself well ever since his parents died, and he would undoubtedly be expecting to receive Giretta as his bride by Springtime at the very latest. Of course, Nihls had not said anything that would indicate his impatience, but he was a man after all. Garam knew well enough what that meant.

The conversation languished for a few minutes as each man sipped at his ale. By this time Sazo could not quite remember how many drinks he had imbibed himself. It was a day for sorrows, he thought, asking the serving girl for yet another.

Garam suggested a game, and the three of them fell to playing Sword and Steed, a game that had been brought to Thedval by some of the refugees. It was traditional to wager something on the game, and at first Noro and Sazo wagered pocket fluff against a broken button. Noro won, and then he wagered the button and fluff alike against the thorn in Garam's boot, winning the whole lot at once. His success seemed to trouble the older men, who had always believed that they knew a thing or two about combat. As Enthedu, of course, they refused to take part in warfare, but they were both fond of speculations about this or that ancient battle or this or that stratagem.

Convinced that Noro was only lucky they insisted upon another round of games, this time Sazo wagering a copper coin against Noro's newly won treasures.

Sword and Steed was a perfect game for such gambles. Winning was as much a matter of luck as it was of cunning. There were several kinds of pieces on a marked board; horsemen, knights and peasants. There was also a set of three six-sided dice, each side marked with a different number of scratches. The sixth side was marked with crosshatch, and whether it was a good thing to roll depended upon the rules the players chose to set. Any number could capture a peasant, but only a cross or a five could take a horseman. Anything higher than three could capture a soldier. A peasant, if he rolled a five or better, could just as easily capture a horseman, but the horseman rolled all three dice at once, and had as many chances to capture the soldiers and peasants.

Sazo played brilliantly, but in the end he lost three horsemen in a row to Noro's peasants. Garam played like a drunk, and lost everything in short order. He began wagering with coins also, after he saw Sazo open his own purse. They were only betting copper coins, he reasoned.

After losing a few more games, Sazo decided that it was about time he went home. 'I hope you will find tomorrow a brighter day, child,' he told Noro as he departed. He put a few gold coins on the counter where Hara would find them and then left, stumbling a bit as he descended the front steps.

Garam waved a hand at the board and Noro reset the pieces. This time they both wagered money, Garam wagering his own gold against the coins Noro had won both from himself and from Sazo. Every game they played thereafter seemed to come down in the end to that one final toss of the dice. Garam won a few games, but most of them went, by pure chance alone it seemed, to Noro. Soon Garam stared with drunken eyes into an empty purse.

Noro eyed the old man with a satisfied grin while fingering his own purse, which now held more gold and silver than ever he had owned.

'I'll gamble with you, Noro,' Garam said with a laugh. 'Since you have no woman, and since I have one who doesn't seem to want the man she's meant to have, let's have a last game for it - If I win I get the purse and gold. If you win, you will have Giretta's hand.'

Noro laughed for a moment before he realized that the older man was not jesting. Garam seemed too drunk to even realize what he had just said. Noro, however, was very nearly as drunk, and he set the board and cast the first die, moving his horsemen forward boldly. Garam played a good game, but Noro's hand moved as if it were inspired, both when it moved the pieces and when it cast the die.

Garam's last piece lifted away from the board, and the old man sat for a long time in silence, not seeming to be quite aware of what had just happened.

Noro gulped down the last of his ale and walked to the counter, spilling gold coins on the table without a thought to their value or their number. He took the rest and lumbered out the door, nodding to Garam as he left.

Strange Odors

Giretta hid herself in a closet as the pounding upon the front door continued. It was well after dark, and her father had a key to the door. Even if he had lost it, something her careful father was very unlikely to do, he would not need to pound so heavily.

When the pounding didn't stop she made her way to her father's room to peek through the window at whoever was knocking. If he meant to rob them, he would have broken into the house already, she thought.

There had been several such crimes committed in Thedval since the refugees from the south had begun to arrive. She moved aside the curtain and looked out into the darkening night sky. To her amazement she saw Noro standing at the door, his chest heaving and his hand preparing for another round of strikes.

She went to the door and called, 'Noro, it is me, Giretta. I am going to open the door!' She did not want him to knock on her head when she opened it unexpectedly. The door opened and Noro entered, shivering from the cold and nursing a battered right hand. 'By the Blessed ones, woman,' he muttered. 'Why didn't you open the door?'

'Why didn't you give up when no one answered?' she replied angrily. As soon as she looked in his eyes, however, her mood calmed and her anger and fear vanished. There was something in his eyes that she had never seen before when he looked at her. His eyes were red and his hair was tussled, but he looked at her like a hungry wolf. Her heart leaped and she backed away from him nervously.

'Giretta,' he said, reaching his hand toward her.

She stopped backing away and slowly leaned closer, until his hand reached her brow.

He brushed her hair from her eyes and looked at her with what looked like awe upon his face. Her whole body seemed to grow light and heavy at once, and she thought she would turn somersaults in the air if she did not hold firmly to the table beside her. She began to back away again, but Noro swooped closer, and trapped her between his arms and the table. 'Giretta,' he said coolly, 'do not be afraid. It is me, Noro. You are mine now.'

There was so much hidden in his voice when he spoke that she could not tell whether he was jesting, commanding or merely accepting. She went to push him away, but her strength failed as soon as her hand touched his chest.

There was a sweet odor on his breath that she did not recognize. She would have asked about it had she been able to think of anything other than his staring eyes and his slowly approaching arms. Her little space was growing smaller every moment and it seemed like the more she struggled the tighter his hold on her became.

'Noro,' she said, pulling his hair to make him look at her eyes, 'what are you doing? Are you not to marry Meidi? Are you trying to torment me?'

'I care not for Meidi,' Noro said, and it was perfectly true at the moment, so there was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. 'You are the one that I want,' and that, also, was true - at that moment.

She pushed hard against him, forcing his arms from the table, but she could not bring herself to truly resist him. He put his hand in her hair and stroked her brown locks gently. For a moment she just stood still, enjoying the feel of his strong hands upon her head. But suddenly, with both horror and delight mixed up within her, she realized that he was taking her hair out of its braid.

She put up her hands to stop him but her fingers seemed to lose all strength when they met his. With horror and excitement she discovered that her own fingers were not hindering, but rather helping him. She moved her hands aside and her long brown hair fell down upon her shoulders like a waterfall.

News Comes Too Late

The morning sun hit Noro like a horse's hoof in the jaw. He was in a strange bed with a dreadful headache, and every muscle in his body seemed to ache. His right arm felt as though it was crushed beneath a boulder. Before he could think on this any further, however, he was startled by a loud pounding on the door. He rose, sliding his arm out from underneath... a woman? He shook his head and looked around in terror - he could not recognize anything. Finally he opened the door and was met by Ilder, who was just as surprised to see him as he was to see the hunter.

'Noro?' he said, as if his eyes were deceiving him. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, looking into the house as if he thought he had gone to the wrong side of Thedval my mistake. 'Where is Garam, I need to speak with him.'

Something stirred behind him and he turned to look. It was Giretta, rising from the bed with an uncertain expression on her face. Her hair hung loose upon her shoulders.

Knowing that Ilder could see better than any other man in Thedval, there was no doubt that he had seen her. Garam was not at home; perhaps he had stayed at Hara's to recover from his drunkenness, or perhaps he had not been able to find his way home for all the ale in his belly. For a moment the sickening thought entered Noro's mind that perhaps the old man had tumbled down the cliffs that stood not far from his home.

'What is going on here, Noro?' Ilder asked, his face grim and cold. 'You know the teachings of the Blest Ones as well as any; you are Sazo's pupil after all! You know that these things oughtn't be done until the vows are taken, and until permission is given.'

'I,' Noro began, closing his eyes as he thought, trying to remember how he had ended up where he now stood. 'Garam gave me his permission, and we took the vows,' he added this hesitantly. They had not taken any vows, and the mention of them seemed to drive all the color from Giretta's face. If it would not draw more attention to herself she would have fled from the room that very instant. But under Ilder's gaze she could do nothing but endure the humiliation.

'Is that true?' Ilder asked. 'I thought that-' Ilder paused, looking at Giretta concernedly. 'I thought,' he whispered, 'that you were to wed Meidi.'

'Meidi is to marry Furinn,' Noro hissed, not hiding his anger at all.

Giretta's eyes filled with water and her face grew whiter than even before.

'She has turned Furinn down,' Ilder said coldly. 'When did you hear of their betrothal?'

'Yesterday morning,' Noro answered weakly.

'Then you ought to have waited until this morning before wallowing in the filth of self-pity,' Ilder looked back and forth between the two youths, his face melting when he looked at Giretta and hardening to dwarf-steel when he looked again at Noro. 'Well,' he finished resignedly, 'you have taken the vows after all. I will leave you to your bride, then.'

Ilder nodded and stepped away from the door, heading back toward Thedval along the northern path. Noro cursed within himself when he realized that claiming to have taken the vows would be seen very much in the same light as actually taking the vows, especially to a people who did not believe in lying. 'What was I to do? Shame her and myself with one breath, speaking the truth for the sake of evil?' he asked himself.

By the time he returned to the room Giretta was gone from the bed, and he could hear her rifling through her drawers in another room. He walked toward the door and heard the sound of weeping. In that moment he felt such a disgust for her that he was almost driven to smash the door down. He could not conceive how this could have happened. 'Garam certainly seemed eager to sell away his daughter,' he thought to himself. 'And no wonder, with her weeping like this.' He would have chosen just about any other maiden in Thedval over her. He had been poisoned and betrayed, and now Meidi was no longer betrothed to Furinn. She was his again, but he was not hers. Not unless he denied ever having anything to do with Giretta. She was a woman, and her jealousy was known throughout the valley. If it came to the council of the Wisemen she would not dare contradict him if he said that nothing had happened. It would not be pleasant, but it could be managed.

At that moment he darted from the house in a full run. He had just told Ilder that he had taken the vows of marriage. He did not know what he would do when he found the hunter, but he knew that he would have to find some way to fix what had been ruined.

His bare feet ached as they tread upon the cold, hard earth. It was Winter's Day, and the whole land seemed to have taken it upon itself to make the day felt for what it marked. There were flurries in the sky and a strong wind coming down from the Frozen North.

It did not take him long to find the hunter. Ilder was just ahead on the road near the place where the road followed along the Western Cliffs. He charged forward, thinking desperately about what to say and what to do. His mind was blank, and his tongue froze for its uncertainty.

Ilder turned just in time to see Noro slam into him, toppling him over the edge of the cliff toward the rocks below. He slid down the cliff some twenty feet, landing on a flat jut of stony earth. 'Noro!' he shouted with confusion.

Noro's face appeared from above for a moment, and then, shaking his head in disbelief, he backed away nervously.

Raylilia

Nihls was not particularly bold when it came to courting. He had never done any of what men called 'staking,' which was acting like a buffoon as far as he could tell. Noro made an effort to hang his arms on Meidi every chance he got.

In Thedval it was not acceptable to interrupt a courtship. Such things, the Blest Ones had written, led to duels and controversies, and should be avoided. Amarin staked his tent over Ebbe, as the expression went, by fiddling with her hair at every opportunity. That was very nearly crossing the line in most people's eyes. But Amarin meant no harm by it. The fact that Ebbe did not call the Wisemen to put an end to it at once was as full an acceptance of his interests as if they were betrothed already. A Thedval maiden was not permitted to lower her hair until she was wed, and Amarin's playfulness made it clear that he had his mind set on Ebbe.

He refused to make a spectacle of Giretta in this way, both because she would not have wanted it, and also because he did not want to lay any pressure upon her. Being surrounded by such displays, however, made it hard for him to be confident in her affections. Her father and his had made a deal, but that meant very little to him. He was constantly afraid that she secretly resented it. While she never said anything to that effect he still got the sense that she was not happy with her lot. She was madly jealous of Meidi, and he could do nothing to persuade her that he was not interested in Meidi.

Giretta refused to believe this, and mocked him every time he suggested it. 'Are you telling me that you would not be happy if she married you?'

'I am sure that, by the King, I could be happy married to anyone,' Nihls would answer. 'But if it is all the same I would not choose her.'

Giretta was fiercely of the opinion that the Eternal King was, essentially, some sort of divine match maker, and if one prayed enough, sang enough hymns, and gave to the poor, they would be led to just the right person.

It did not make her happy when Nihls asked, 'What if a man marries a woman he oughtn't. If he oughtn't, then she oughtn't, and that makes four who are married wrongly - and those who missed out on their ordained will likely marry another, repeating the cycle so that, though the Eternal King ordains every couple, no match of his choosing ever takes place.'

When he said things like this she would turn red and shout, 'Go marry Meidi, then, if it is all the same to you!'

Today Nihls meant to bring her some flowers. The Raylilia that grew near her house were especially precious to her, as they adorned her mother's grave, and had ever grown along the path to her house. He made his way southward along the road, stopping now and again to pick up the bright white and blue Raylilia. Winter would claim them soon enough; this might be the last bundle that could be found until late Spring. But as he veered off the path toward the cliffside he saw Ilder struggling at the edge, calling out for Noro.

He dropped the flowers at once and rushed forward. He thought that he heard a curse from above him, but he was focusing all his attention on the hunter.

'Ilder!' he cried out, reaching for the man's hand.

Ilder reached, fear filling his eyes as he struggled. Their fingers met and Nihls slipped, pushing Ilder further down. The hunter held onto a rock for a moment, but his finger slipped and he fell.

Questions and Dreams

It took a fair amount of tearful arguments, and in the end support from Noro to convince the Wisemen that the whole thing had been an accident. Nihls appreciated the fact that Noro took up his defense, but something struck him as strange about the whole incident.

Ilder was no fool, and the snow was not falling so hard that Nihls could believe the hunter had taken a wrong path. The way he had screamed 'Noro' sounded, to Nihls, more like he was shocked by the other man, and not calling for help. From where he hung he could not have known that Noro was nearby unless he had seen the man before his fall.

The whole tragedy, however, made it impossible to conceal the fact that Noro had taken down Giretta's hair, and, according to Noro, they had first taken the vows. Giretta supported Noro's tale, but there was a distance in her eyes that Nihls had not seen before. He had always feared that she loved Noro - he had known it, truth be told. But he had always thought that Noro would marry Meidi, and so he was quite taken aback by this sudden turn of events. He knew he was not Giretta's first choice for a husband, and he never expected her to feel differently. But he had thought that when Noro was lost to her, she would at the very least accept him. He was more than willing to simply be a comfort to her if that were possible. But now that she had what she had long desired, there was no place either for him or for his comfort.

When at last the Wisemen left him alone, and after Giretta and Noro left, accompanied by a sober, but silently furious Garam, Nihls wept. Giretta looked back at him one more time, and for the first time since they had met there was something like true longing in her eyes. They both realized in that moment that all their childhood expectations had calculated amiss. As she trailed after Noro he felt a longing for her like he had never felt before.

'We are not meant for happiness,' he reminded himself, thinking back upon his old Teacher. He knew what Abbon would say to him, 'The Giretta that you held before you as though she would be your wife is not the Giretta who you see and hear - she is not the real Giretta. To think of her as such is to let the Dragon blind you. Giretta is married to Noro now. And that is that. Your expectation was in error, but you have not lost anything, for no man can possess the future, and so no man can claim that he has been robbed when things don't work out as planned. Accept her for what she is, not for what you wished her to be. Only then can you love her honestly - even if it is loving her by letting her go.'

Every night before he fell under the power of Old Man Sleep, Nihls repeated to himself the words of Abbon, and he shivered every time he spoke them: 'Until each and every one of you faces the Dragon, he lives.' He would then pass into dark and confusing dreams, few of which he remembered upon waking. But always he saw the faces of his friends, Noro, Giretta, Meidi and the others. They were each more beautiful than they were in waking, but their eyes were the eyes of a serpent, cold and filled with treachery. He fled from them, sometimes simply into wakefulness, and sometimes through dreamlands filled with peril. But before waking he would hear them cry out to him, saying, 'Save me! Nihls! Help me!'
[Chapter IV:  
The Sword and the Spear](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Paley Speaks

For all his power, Lord Pelas Parganascon, King of Alwan and (to his mind at least) rightful Lord over all Bel Albor, was very seldom in a good mood. He felt as though his counselors were deceitful, his servants spiteful and his captains and guards incompetent. He strongly believed that the only thing that held his kingdom together against his brother's realm was his own will, strength and wisdom. Several of his counselors advised him to marry, and thereby make sure the rule of Alwan in ages to come. But the very idea of bearing a son seemed entirely beneath him. Whether he bore a son or not, he would never think of the child as an heir - as a replacement. To bear children would be to admit his mortality in a sense, and go against all the divine pretensions with which he had shrouded his mind for the past age.

There would be no Doom Path for the son of Pelas - for there would be no son.

The war with Ilvas had ground to a halt as each side made their preparations for the coming winter. Spring would bring war, and each side would shake off the winter's chill and march through rain and wind to fight for the Thedul region of Alwan. The dwarves, by and large, had left Alwan, forsaking the troubles of the elves for the sake of - Pelas could not imagine. He would deal with them eventually, and when the time came his wrath would be severe. He never saw the dwarves as anything more than a weapon of his enemy Agonas.

They were a powerful, weapon, however, and it was good that they had gone. Agonas was no doubt cursing the day he decided to trust them, mortal as they are. Even if you get a man to swear loyalty to the throne, and to swear loyalty for his children's children, it still remained that the man would die and his oath with him. He could bring himself to trust none but the elves, as though elves were somehow immune to change.

It was, in fact, a change among the elves that was his chief concern at the moment. Amro had taken charge over the forces of Dalta, and his wisdom and strength were enough to put even the lords of Alwan in awe. Moreover, so highly honored was Amro throughout Bel Albor that Pelas feared (and he was very nearly correct) that the other high elves would refuse to fight against him. On at least two occasions Falruvis and his son drank wine in the tents of Amro while the mortals under their command besieged the armies of Ilvas. The great War of Peace that had raged ever since Agonas returned from Kharku remained within the hearts of the elves, regardless of how Agonas and Pelas felt about the matter. An eternal war was being fought between these nations \- a war the sorrows of which served to unite the mortals, whose memories are short, against one another while leaving the elves to eat and drink in leisure. With few exceptions the high elves themselves were largely untouched by the fighting.

With all these things on his mind, it did not surprise his servants when Lord Pelas ordered the hall emptied, and refused to permit any further frustrations to approach him. His guards shut the door and barred the way of any who dared approach him.

Nonetheless, he found himself face to face with a strange man, garbed in plain brown robes with a rope tied around his waist for a belt.

'You have heard my name before,' Paley replied after Pelas demanded his name and his purpose. 'The memories of elves are long indeed,' he continued, 'but it seems they too pass away without entering the minds of their descendants.'

'Guards!' Pelas thundered, tired already of the man's voice - he hated any mortal who did not speak to him as though he were in fear for his life. Indeed, for a mortal to be in his presence was to be in danger.

'My lord?' a tall, golden haired elf asked, entering with several spearmen in his train.

'I asked to be left undisturbed,' he roared.

The man looked around and, seeing no one, answered weakly, 'I understand sir. You will not be troubled any longer; we have barred the doors and no one shall enter your hall.'

Pelas seemed to calm down after that, but his eyes bulged with amazement when the guards departed without so much as looking at the intruder.

'Guards!' Pelas called again. After they had entered he stood and said, 'What must I do to find a man in Alwan who will obey me? I said I want no disturbances whatsoever. None, do you understand. You are to let no one enter.'

The man looked as though he finally understood, nodding to himself as he looked at Pelas. 'I understand, my lord, I beg your forgiveness.' With that he turned and ordered the other guards from the room.

After that Pelas called thrice more, but the guard did not return - for not wanting to disobey Pelas' command to be left undisturbed.

Pelas was left alone with the strange messenger. 'I will slay you myself, then,' Pelas said, rising in great wrath from his throne. But as he started toward Paley the robed man seemed to back away - he did not walk away, he was simply out of reach, regardless of how Pelas tried to approach him. As soon as he relented he found himself seated once again, as if his whole attempt had been but a daydream.

'I have come to give you power, Lord Pelas, power over the lives of many,' Paley began, when Pelas had finally given up his assault. 'Not five years from now this whole land will have perished, and everyone within it who does not flee at once. Prove yourself their lord, then, and fly with them. Lead them into the south and establish your kingdom elsewhere. The destruction of Bel Albor has been foretold within your ears. And when the end of Bel Albor comes, you will be revered above all men. But if you heed not this warning, neither you nor your people will survive, save for those who have been chosen by he who chooses all things.' Paley put such an emphasis on that last word that Pelas started back for an instant.

'You have come to give me power over men? That,' Pelas said scornfully, 'I have already. Shall you give me the throne of Alwan also?'

'I have opened the door for you,' Paley shrugged, 'but if the will to walk therethrough lies not within you, what can be done about it? You sit upon the throne, but there is one who holds all thrones.'

In an instant Paley had vanished, leaving Pelas in a darker mood than any of his servants could recall. He stormed through the door and vanished into his bedchambers, not to emerge until late the following day.

Paley stood still in the throne room, standing beside a similarly robed figure. 'You see, brother,' the other man said - neither of them could be seen or heard by the others, 'Telling them the truth will do no good; it will only show that they are fools. Do not ever think that warning men of that which is to come will change their hearts from black to white. It may change their actions, like a sailor harboring because of the storm darkened sky. But that does not change the nature of the sailor. Even if we could, by our words, change the course of Alwan, it would not make white that which is crimson. Teach a murderer to fear the gallows, and you may save his life - but you have not saved his soul. You must teach him to see his fellow man as if he were his right arm if you are to truly change him. We are not servants of Time; we do not strive to make things right or best, but to make known the truth. He will do even as he meant to do from the beginning, but he will have no solace, for your words will hang over his head day and night.'

'I understand, my lord Daryas,' Paley answered. 'It is hard to see so many men led about by their ambitions and their whims. It is especially difficult to watch men such as the elves of Alwan, who have more potential than any other race of men.'

'Have you been with me for so long, and seen all that you have seen yet without understanding? There is only what they are - they no more have potential than they have horns. Do not let the Dragon deceive you, Paley.'

'Is the Dragon not of this world only, then?' Paley asked with surprise.'

'He is not always called the Dragon, child,' Daryas answered. 'But he is always the same - he dwells where nothing dwells, for he is nothing, but when you are blinded by desire, you will see him and be led astray by falsehood.'

'Why do we have a foe? Why must there be one to resist the King?' Paley asked.

'Nothing can resist the King,' Daryas explained. 'The King is All, therefore the only thing remaining - the only thing that remains to resist him is nothing. So nothing resists him, and being nothing, it does not resist him. When man is in error, however, he takes nothing to be something, and thereby believes that there is, in man, a power to resist what is - a power to resist the Hidden Name of Truth. But he has not resisted the King - he has just misunderstood. In truth, he is in all worlds, for all worlds permit this error, but, being error, he is in no world at all, and has no part in anything whatsoever.'

'Is there no way to defeat the Dragon? For how can a man defeat nothing?' Paley asked.

'Nothing vanishes the moment we understand the Truth - the moment we speak the Hidden Name we have driven him back.'

'But why must he be in the first place?' Paley asked.

'He is not; that is what it is to be nothing,' Daryas answered. 'How can one make nothing? And how can one destroy nothing once it has been made? The Dragon is not something, that he can "be" at all, let alone "be" in the first place. But insofar as all things have their substance in the Hidden Name it will always seem as though one thing, being of the same substance as all the rest, could be like all the rest. Since all worlds have their substance in the Hidden Name, there can be no world where this danger does not appear.'

'But why?' Paley asked.

'Because the nature of a name is to stand over many things; and when men take the names instead of the things for their guide, they see the many and not the actual, which alone is the truth. Should a man perish at eighty years of age, and another at twenty, men would say that a man could die at either time. But men only die when they die, which is always at the time they die. To say they could have lived longer, or could have lived shorter is to take that which is true of men, generally, and pretend that it is true of one single man. This is the root of the Dragon's power, and insofar as the very substance of things is in their names, and not in themselves, his power cannot be separated from any world. But the teaching of the Truth destroys him wherever he dwells. So we have not come here to correct the course of events, but to bring men to the truth; though knowledge always changes something, it is the knowledge and not the change with which we are concerned.'

'Do not let yourself be discouraged, then,' Daryas added, 'by their stubbornness. Pelas will make himself a fool, but his folly will instruct many in the Truth. There can be no world without the Hidden Name, and with it the danger of the Dragon. But to ask for it not to be is absurd - for the Hidden Name is Being itself, and you cannot ask that which is to not be any more than you can ask of a sphere that it have corners.'

Sunlan Rises

Agonas was in every way his brother's equal. But Fate cares nothing for equality, raising the low and lowering the mighty as she sees fit. He too was visited by Paley, who had promised that each time he came would be marked by the diminishing of Agonas' might. Agonas liked the visit no better than Pelas, and took it fearfully as a sign of impending madness. He had been at this rivalry for too long without acting himself, and the worry that came with trusting others to do his will had taken its toll on him, he believed. 'It is time to rise above the fool,' he said coldly to Gheshtick and his other counselors. To Zefru he said, 'Kill whoever you can among the high elves of Alwan, I care not whom - even if you must slay Pelas himself.'

Zefru nodded with a grin and, with very little speaking, vanished from Sunlan and from history forever. His only reappearance would be in the form of corpses, turning up all over Alwan and Ilvas. The most notable among these being Ginat, the bodyguard of Lord Pelas himself, who was found in his bed one morning with a dagger in his back.

Gheshtick was given command over the eastern portion of Sunlan, from Centan to Evnai Port. Agonas knew that he was not a warrior at heart. Leaving the defense of Sunlan to him would be more prudent than sending him at the head of an army. Agonas himself would lead his forces, first into Ilvas, and then into Alwan itself. He would kill Pelas and avenge himself for all the wrongs his brother had inflicted upon him, or he would perish in the attempt. He was weary with life; and he almost didn't care which way the contest fell. Hatred for his brother alone drove him to do anything more than cut his own throat and make an end of his long suffering.

An army such as had never been seen in Bel Albor crossed the Esse River that Spring. The force of Agonas crossed over Ilvas to come to Amro's aid along the Thedul River. The armies of Alwan fled at the very rumor of Agonas, the King of Sunlan, Beastslayer and son of Parganas. Villages emptied, walled cities shut their gates, fortified towns were burned with fire. Whole cities were put to the sword at the slightest provocation, and only those who swore loyalty to Ilvas or to Sunlan were spared.

Pelas gathered his armies around Alwan, very clearly expecting a siege. But it was not to be. One little word would turn the course of the whole war, and break forever what power Agonas might have held to the west of the Esse.

As Agonas subdued Lushlin, driving Bralohi and his brother out of the region with thousands of elvish refugees (they left the mortal men to fend for themselves), Amro pressed hard against the army of Maru and Daruvis, forcing them to retreat entirely into Alwan for a time. By the end of the following summer, the strength of Agonas had reached its peak, and a force of men, led by Amro, entered into the northern marches of Alwan.

They entered Thedval from the northeast, crossing the Thedul River into Alwan from the north.

No Oaths

The goblin bell rang out in the center of town, and the people of Thedval began to panic. It was a hot summer morning, and not a cloud could be seen. It would have been a beautiful day were it not for the distant shouts and the frantic ringing from the town. Runners were sent to every nearby farm and people gathered together in large groups. Some of these came to the center of town with hammers and pitchforks; some of the newcomers came with shortswords. Most people hid away, however, not sure what to do. They usually just locked their doors and waited for the goblins to raid their barns and make off with their excess. But these invaders were not goblins. Amro and his brother Ghastin led a great force of men from Ilvas into the valley, and wherever they were opposed they slew without mercy, coming at last to the village itself.

When it became clear to them that they could elicit no oaths of loyalty from these people - no oaths of any kind could have been drawn from them - they threatened to put the whole place to the sword and burn every house with fire. The Wisemen came forward and stood between the armed men of Thedval and the soldiers of Ilvas - standing there until the very last, suing for peace. To the fighters they said, 'Put away your weapons, or put away the name Peaceful, which our master gave to his followers.' To the others, they simply said, 'Killing to save is still killing for ends, be they whatsoever you will. There is another way.'

Ghastin grew impatient with their pleading and demanded their allegiance at once. When it was not forthcoming he gestured to his soldiers and drew his own blade. They first cut down the Wisemen, and then made their way to the fighters of Thedval, who stood not a chance against them. One among them seemed to have had some experience in combat, and he slew one man of Ilvas ere falling to Ghastin's sword. The others, however, fell without so much as scratching one of Ghastin's men. Sazo, standing between Ilvas and Thedval as it were, was cut down without mercy to bleed his life out into the dirt of the street.

When word came to the farms of what had happened, the people of Thedval fled in every direction. Nihls rode Urian out from the village itself and made his way quickly toward Garam's house, where now dwelt Giretta and Noro. But he found Amarin coming along the road with Ebbe clutching his arm tightly. Her father, Huriel, had been among those who perished in the village. When Nihls saw her face he froze and looked at her sorrowfully. She at once understood his glance and said, 'No, Nihls, tell me it is not so - tell me!'

Nihls could say nothing, he just shook his head. She buried her face in Amarin's chest.

'We have to flee, Nihls. Come with us!' Amarin said urgently.

'No, friend,' he answered. 'Who will warn Noro and Giretta?'

'Noro is gone already,' Amarin said. 'He vanished with the first sound of the bells, and Garam took Giretta an hour later, heading into the south.'

'Then they are safe?' Nihls asked, worry apparent in his voice.

'They are safer than we are at least, or at least, as safe as any can be right now,' Amarin answered. 'We have no time. Let us go south also, and find the others.'

'Not yet. Take Ebbe and find Giretta and her father, if you can. I have to see if there are others who have not yet escaped the valley.'

'Nihls,' Amarin said, looking somberly into his eyes, 'be careful. They say there are elf lords among them.'

Nihls' face turned white, but he just nodded and turned to ride off, heading back down the path upon which he had come. He began to recite some of Abbon's more comforting teachings to himself, but nothing could stop his hands from shaking. He turned aside at every farm to make sure that there were none who had not yet been warned. When at last the village came within sight he saw two figures hurrying along the road. Upon seeing him the two parted, each running in a separate direction. One of them, however, did not seem to be fleeing in earnest. Nihls could tell from where he stood that the quicker of them wore skirts. When he drew close enough the slower runner stopped and called out, 'Nihls? Is it you, boy?'

He recognized the voice as belonging to Teacher Eren.

'Wise Eren,' he said, bowing his head slightly before directing Urian's steps toward him.

The older man looked suspiciously at the sword on his belt. 'I am blessed to see you safe.' Nihls assumed that the man had run slowly in order to make sure that, had Nihls been an enemy, he would pursue him rather than his wife.

'I have heard that some of the youths and many of the strangers went to the village to fight. I was afraid that you were among them,' the man said.

'Do not worry, Teacher,' Nihls answered. 'I know the Teachings. I have slain no one.'

Eren nodded, and then asked, 'Have you news of anyone else? What of Giretta and the other youths?'

'Amarin and Ebbe are well, though Huriel was slain in the village. I was seeking Garam and Giretta, but they have already fled. I do not know where Noro went, but I believe he knows of the attack.'

'What of Meidi?' Eren asked, the fear apparent in his voice. 'The bells do not echo in the halls of Teacher Canhon, they say.'

'What do you mean?' Nihls asked impatiently.

'I mean,' Eren explained, surprised that the youth had never heard the expression, 'The warning bells have never been heard in Meidi's home - the lay of the land prevents it. Has anyone gone to them?'

'I do not know,' Nihls said, shaking his head.

'You were in the village?' Eren asked. 'Yet you did not see Canhon among the Wisemen?'

Nihls shook his head. The heir of Candorion the Blest would not have remained aloof had he been warned of the danger.

'There is nothing we can do now,' Eren said resignedly. 'We must leave it to the King to decide.'

'We must leave it to the King,' Nihls said, 'whether we do anything about it or no. Amarin and the others are all heading south. There are nothing but goblins and ice in the Far North, so we have no choice but to go to Alwan. Find your family and go south also - I will follow shortly.'

'Where are you going?' Eren asked with concern.

Nihls hesitated for a moment. 'I,' he paused, 'Someone has to warn Canhon!'

The Spear

When Noro heard the warning bells that morning, softly disturbing the morning quiet, he bolted from his bed as wide awake as he might have been at high noon. He dressed rapidly, cursing the whole while.

Giretta rose after him, her eyes filled with concern. 'What is it, Noro?' she asked.

'The bells,' Noro replied. 'It is goblins or worse again,' he said.

'Again?' she yawned. It seemed as though every week brought another raid. Some believed that allowing strangers into Thedval had angered the Eternal King, and that he had withdrawn his protection over them.

'What will you do?' she asked.

'I don't know,' he said. 'But I will not sit and allow us to be robbed again. We have little enough most years without the raids, and these strangers are enough like goblins to make locks necessary on most of the houses in the village. It is a good thing there are so many locksmiths among them, or we would have been picked clean by the lot of them.'

'They are not all thieves,' Giretta said as she took up her brush. 'You cannot blame them all, husband.'

'And neither can I tell one from the other. So long as that is true I will keep my eyes open.'

She sighed and turned her attention to her mother's old mirror. What she beheld disgusted her. She knew that she was far from unsightly, but she also knew that there was very little she could do to lessen the disappointment of her husband short of transforming herself into the likeness of his true love. As much as she despised Meidi, she was convinced that were there a magic strong enough she would choose without hesitation to become the other woman.

Her heart fell as though it had fallen into her stomach.

Of late they had been quarreling quite a bit about that very subject. She had thought it frustrating when Nihls would say nothing evil of her rival. But Noro would not stop praising the woman, and he spoke carelessly and openly about how he had been 'deceived' into marrying Giretta. Whenever a temper took him he accused her of conspiring with her father to deceive him.

Lost in her dark thoughts she did not even realize that Noro had left the house.

By the time Noro arrived in Thedval village the Wisemen already lay dead upon the ground, slain by Ghastin and his men. From across the street he saw Nihls, riding out of the village by the southern road, his useless sword hanging at his side in its scabbard. He cursed the coward and then made his way toward the bodies that lay upon the ground, ducking behind a wooden trough for secrecy. When the warriors of Ghastin had passed he sprang from his hiding place and searched through the dead. There he found Sazo, his Teacher, lying innocent in his own blood. Though their beliefs concerning warfare and slaying were drawn from the doctrines of Theodysus himself, who taught that a man can only kill himself in another man, he blamed all the weakness and cowardice of his people on Teacher Abbon, who had, in the days of his popularity, been known for his love of peace more than any of the other Teachers. He had said, Noro had heard, that, 'True Justice can only be done when a man suffers evil, willingly before the Eternal King.'

Noro spat upon the ground as anger welled up within him. 'What folly is this doctrine?' he thought bitterly. 'How will the world learn of Theodysus, if we do not tell them? And how will we tell them if we perish? And how will we not perish if we let every man have his way with us?' He looked once more into his Teacher's pale face and then, shaking his head in rage he took up a spear that had fallen among the bodies and followed after the warriors of Ilvas.

It did not take him long to find the warriors. They marched boldly through Thedval, knowing that more than half the villagers would surrender their own lives before fighting and that the other half would fall easily. He waited in the shadows until the mass of them had departed from the village's southern gates. Several of the Ilvas warriors remained in the village, however, keeping watch over the houses to make sure that there were no further incidents. Noro approached these men silently and sprang upon them when they faced the opposite direction. In a single leap his spear pierced through a man's back and burst from his chest in a spray of blood.

Stunned by his own actions, Noro struggled for a moment to keep his balance. Another warrior came upon him and he only had enough time to pull the spear free from the first man's corpse before the other man slashed him across the chest with his sword. He stumbled backward and the shaft of his spear struck the other man across the cheek as he fell. He rose and took advantage of the fortuitous blow to pierce the other man through the stomach.

He approached the fallen warrior and spat upon him where he lay.

'No,' the man pleaded. 'Please... don't.'

Noro's face filled with wrath and he snorted, 'Shall I tend your wounds now, when you tended not the wounds of Wise Sazo? Or shall I spare the life of he who spared not the life of another? Shall I leave unpunished he who has rendered himself worthy of all damnation?' He struck again, making an end of the warrior. As he stared at the body he thought, 'It was better anyway, to end his suffering.'

He darted from the village, following after the other warriors.

The Sword

The home of Canhon was one of the larger homes in Thedval. It was not a mansion or an estate by any means; it was, like most other houses outside the main village, a farm house. But long years of eminence among the Enthedu had brought the family a great deal of fame and wealth. Canhon was one of the few among the Enthedu that could trace their ancestry back to the time of Theodysus himself. Their first father was the son of Blest Candorian and Blest Leai Eslunana, who had both seen and heard the Guarantor (they called Theodysus this because in him, the believe, the success of the Eternal King in his creation was made clear).

Whether for good or ill, this lineage gave the family of Meidi a prominence in counsel that no other family possessed. There were some, indeed, who could trace their ancestry back to the first days of the Enthedu, and even some who could trace their history back to the all but extinct Essenes of Sunlan and Ilvas. But there were no others who had two of the Blest among their ancestors - and Candorian was the first to see and understand the great star that now bore the name of their master.

When Nihls approached the large farmhouse surrounded by warriors, his heart sank. There were at least thirty men on the property, ten or eleven of whom were huddled near the front door. He could hear them pounding on the door and shouting something at whoever was inside. Standing just behind them was an ominous figure; an elf, Nihls assumed, towering over the others with dark hair and the finest sword he had ever seen scabbarded at his waist. Nihls dismounted some ways from the house and crept forward slowly, keeping himself hidden among tall stalks of wheat. He was just about a stone's throw from the front door. He watched anxiously from a distance, too terrified to do anything other than watch.

Displeased by whatever they heard from within, one of the warriors came forward with an axe in his hand. It took them much longer than they expected to break the strong wooden door off its hinges, but as soon as it fell a man came hurtling from the doorway, spreading himself out and dragging the whole lot of them to the ground. Nihls recognized the man's neatly cropped gray hair as belonging to Canhon. 'Run!' he shouted, as soon as he had breath again. While everyone watched him struggle desperately with the warriors, a slender figure slipped from the doorway and ran down the walk, her long skirts dancing about in the wind as she fled. The elf nodded in her direction and two men pursued her.

It was Meidi, Nihls could tell, even from a distance.

'No, please! Let her be!' Canhon begged before a sword pierced his throat. The elf seemed to look upon him with pity, though he did nothing to stop his death.

Nihls could hear Meidi weeping loudly, even as she ran. Her pursuers reached her just as she neared the tall grass where Nihls lay hidden. Her cries became frantic as she realized they had caught up with her. At that moment Nihls leaped from the grass and rolled under the first man's legs, giving Meidi another few moments to get away. The man tripped over Nihls and slid on his face for several feet, his legs almost flipping over his back. As soon as he regained his own footing, Nihls grabbed the stunned man's sword and then wrapped his cloak around his arms and over his head before pinning it to the ground with the blade. The man wrestled wildly, trying to regain control of himself, but he was too tangled to free himself.

Nihls then took off in pursuit of the other man, who was now just about to take hold of Meidi. The warrior grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the ground, wrenching loose her hair, which fell like an ebony landslide onto her shoulders. He lifted his sword and brought it down at her face.

Nihls reached him just in time to strike him in the back of the leg, sending his attack amiss.

The man hopped in pain from the blow, but the terror on his face left when he realized that there was no wound beside the welt he was given.

Meidi was too shocked at the sight of the drawn sword in Nihls' hand to notice.

The man turned his attention to Nihls, and attacked skillfully.

For a moment Nihls seemed unsure of what to do. He had done a great deal of practicing, but he had never actually 'put practice into practice,' as the saying went in Thedval. Nonetheless, his diligence in the past served him well, and with a skillful swipe he knocked the sword from the other man's hand. Such a blow from any other blade would have severed the man's hand, but the warrior was left staring at a sprained wrist. Again there was no blood.

Meidi's apprehensions about the sword seemed to lessen as she realized that Nihls was not simply making a fool of himself.

In a flash Nihls struck again, his sword knocking the other man unconscious - again, without blood.

'Run, Meidi,' Nihls said, backing away from the warriors slowly. 'I will follow after you.'

But when he looked to see if she were listening to him, he saw her collapse on the ground in a swoon. More warriors now approached him, including the elf commander. He shut his eyes and prayed the only prayer he knew, 'Lord of all; the Truth is and was and will be, only let me be willing to hear it.'

He lifted Meidi over his shoulder and started off into the grass, making his way blindly toward the place where he had left Urian. He was not as strong as Noro, and he feared that he would be unable to carry her away. But the warriors who pursued him did not reach him before he threw Meidi over the saddle, mounted and dug his heels into Urian's side. He sped away, and no one followed.

Amro stood over the two defeated warriors with a pensive look on his face. The first man was still entangled in his own cloak, and the other was nursing a lump on his head and a sprained wrist. He ordered his men to halt in their pursuit partly because they had more pressing business than chasing down children, and partly because he was puzzled by the way the youth had fought. He could just as easily have killed the first man, he knew. He might have saved himself enough time to make his rescue more certain. Taking the time to bind and pin him to the ground didn't make any sense. Nor did it make sense that he struck the second warrior in the leg rather than running him through with the sword. And the lack of blood could only mean one of two things: either the sword was so dull that it could not cut flesh or the man was so skillful that he could strike with the flat of the blade without drawing blood. He did not know which to believe, as he could think of no motive for the former, and for the latter, he could not believe that so young a man could possess such skill.

Either way it made no sense to him. But he did not have time for anything else. 'Gather what you can of the supplies in the village. If the people wish to flee, let them. They will be a burden to the resources of our enemy if they live, they will make fertile the ground if they perish. Do not waste any further effort on fighting them, unless they first give you trouble.'

Soon every house was emptied and and every store room plundered, and in time every flock and every farm was brought under Amro's authority. The Enthedu fled, some into the north to perish among the goblins and the icy mountain paths, and some to seek their fortune in Alwan, among the elves of Pelas. Many names were lost to them, and many families vanished in that day, never to be heard from or accounted for. When it was learned that a man had slain some of their warriors in the village, Amro ordered the houses to be fired. He also forbid them to permit any of the Enthedu to remain, unless they swore allegiance to Ilvas. Among those forced to swear was Noro himself, who justified the oath by the fact that he could not in any other way manage an escape from his captors. If he did not escape, then how could he protect and serve the Enthedu, who alone among mankind, he believed, could bring peace to Bel Albor.

As soon as his captors glanced the other way, however, he fled, leaving behind him confused guards and a broken oath as well. 'This oath shall I keep,' he muttered as he fled. 'I swear I will repay you for every drop of Enthedu blood that has been spilled this day!' In his flight to the south, however, he came across a large group of Enthedu who were attempting to find their way through the passes. So glad were they to have found a fellow survivor, and one so strong and able-minded as he, that they all but ignored the spear in his hand. Some reasoned among themselves much the same as had he when first he took it into his hands. 'Who would save the world from the Dragon's old lies, if the Enthedu did not save themselves?' some of them asked.

An Answer

That evening Nihls kept watch over a quietly weeping Meidi. She neither spoke to him or looked at him, but lay on the soft grass in a heap. He had tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away with a curse. She was not convinced that there had been no way to save her father. Had Nihls come sooner, or had he not waited until she fled to help, or if he were strong and fearless like Noro, she seemed convinced that the outcome could have been different. Nihls had learned from his many conversations with Giretta that a woman in such a state was not to be contradicted. 'I am sorry,' he said sincerely. 'Do all in Thedval think so little of me?' he thought to himself.

He stared silently into the night, eyeing every shadow suspiciously. It was nearly midnight when he realized that Meidi was asleep. He leaned back on his arms and took his eyes off the shadows to glance at the sky. The night was dark; clouds rolled by overhead, threatening storms, but beyond them he could still see the stars glimmering coldly. Theodysus shone brightest of all. For a moment he thought bitterly how cold and distant the light appeared. But almost at the same moment he heard in his mind the voice of Teacher Abbon, speaking of that very thing - in fact, he could remember repeating his words after him, and, after saying them for many years, finally understanding them.

'The only purpose for which Theodysus might have stayed with us, would have been a purpose. But we do not live for a purpose, but a Truth.'

The Enthedu were children of the Truth, and the truth was what it was, whatever happened. 'We are not meant for happiness,' he said aloud, speaking to himself, to Meidi, to Giretta, far away though she was, and, with some sadness, to Noro as well. He had never really gotten along with Noro, but he saw how fiercely the man desired happiness, and how far off it seemed to him. The solution, to Nihls' way of thinking, as he had learned from Teacher Abbon, was to find something else to occupy your efforts. But Teacher Sazo and most of the other Wisemen, while giving lip-service to sacrifice and sobriety, in their hearts believed that the Eternal King wanted, not merely what was best for men, but what was best TO them as well.

Nihls' thoughts were shattered by a cold and strong voice, speaking from the shadows. 'You are no warrior,' the voice said. It did not sound like a taunt; it was merely an observation.

Nihls sprang to his feet and drew his sword, looking around wildly for the speaker. Stepping from the darkness into the firelight, the elf commander approached Nihls cautiously. 'Who are you?' Nihls asked, hurrying to place himself between the elf and Meidi.

'Who is the girl?' the elf asked.

'What do you want with us?' Nihls asked, his eyes filled with resolve.

'I want an answer,' the elf said. He lifted his hands and drew back his hood, revealing a hard but wise face. 'I am Amro,' he said, 'guardian of Ilvas.'

Nihls mouthed the name silently, his heart filling with terror. For the name of Amro was well-known throughout Bel Albor.

'I can strike you down,' the elf said, again, not as a taunt. 'But you could have struck down my warriors today. Why didn't you? Answer me well. If it is a sound reason then I will, for that same reason, spare your own life.'

Nihls shut his eyes for a moment and thought. 'Truth,' he said at last.

The elf paused for a moment and tilted his head as if there were something lacking in his perspective that might make sense of this strange youth. 'Who knows the truth?' he answered, lowering himself to the ground. He leaned back and looked up at the stars.

'Who are you, lord elf?' Nihls said after a while. But the stranger said nothing, his eyes staring at the light of heaven without wavering.

'You know the truth already,' Nihls said after a pause, 'else you would not have spoken to me. Men always seek the truth outside of themselves, and so they never find it.'

'Some seem convinced enough of their doctrines,' the elf laughed.

Nihls marveled at the elf's manner.

'And yet you would not even be able to mock them unless you already knew the truth yourself,' Nihls replied. 'If the Doctrai say that Pelas is a god, who are you to deny them, unless you know better? You cannot doubt that which you fully know and understand. Even if you believe the truth, doubt shows that you do not hold it tight enough. But how could you even compare the truth to your belief unless you already knew the truth? If the truth is not within you already; then you never can learn the truth. But the very fact that you doubt, and therefore know your knowledge to be inadequate proves beyond doubt that you have the truth already. If the truth came to you in the marketplace, and you did not have it within, you could not recognize it. And you could not deny the truth of anything unless you already possess it. For how would you know it to be contrary to the truth? Look inside, where the God dwells, and you will understand.'

'The God?' the elf sniffed. 'What god? Show me a god beside Pelas and his brother, and I will believe him.' He felt sick even as he repeated Xanthur's usual retort.

'Men always look outside of them for the God,' Nihls said, and so they miss the God within.

'Within what?' the elf said, sitting up straight. 'Do I have a God living within my breast, as the Kharku are said to believe?'

'Not within your breast,' Nihls said, trying to find words to explain the teachings of the Enthedu to a stranger. 'He resides between the times and the places; he extends where we do not and cannot. A man lives and perishes, vanishing away, not only in death, but in each moment. For to be is to change, and to change is to cease to be that which was. The substance of things as they rise and fall is the name given to what remains unaltered. For they themselves cannot endure through time, since they contradict themselves moment after moment. I was an infant, I was a child, I am a man. The infant and child are gone, and they, insofar as they are gone, cannot endure and become what I am. The name given to them and to me, however, alone remains. The name is the substance, and the substance of all things is the name of all things.'

'What is the name of all?'

'The Hidden Name,' Nihls replied. 'Truth. That which is hidden in all things – hidden in you.'

'Why do you say that it is hidden,' the elf asked, 'since you name it Truth?'

'It is hidden because, being a name for everything, it can stand for nothing. To say anything about it besides that mere fact that it is the truth is to lie. This is why the God is so hard to find; he dwells at the place where everything and nothing touch.'

'But you still have not quite explained how this truth - this Hidden Name - holds back your blade from killing.'

Nihls nodded and shut his eyes, thinking back to Teacher Abbon's many lessons. Much of what he had said already was taken from Abbon's mouth, and some of it had occasioned his exile. But he could not lie to this elf; he could not even bring himself to withhold answers. If the other Wisemen had taken the time to search out and understand Abbon's doctrines, Nihls was certain they would never have sent him away.

'To look upon the world from a point of view is to perceive it falsely,' Nihls said. 'If you understand this, then you can look and understand. But if you look out through a single pair of eyes and think that you have seen all there is to be seen, then you are in error. A carriage rolling down a hill is brought down by its weight, though it may have been set into motion by a man. The man and its own weight, therefore, lead it from a place of rest to a place of motion. If it had not weight, then it would not have moved. If it had not the man to push it, then its weight, alone, would have done nothing. To see only the weight is to see falsely; and to see only the man is to see falsely.

'To see with perspective, then, since you only see but a little, is to see falsely. For the carriage must have a hill and the hill a world, and a world must have its being from its own causes. Even the tiniest flea has its place. Take any one of these things away and you cannot so much as think truly of the flea. Unless you see all, you see falsely. And if you see all, then all you see is God. And there is nothing else.

'As I stand here, then, I have my being because you sit there. And you have your being because of me, and because of Pelas and because of the light of Theodysus, the lord of stars. If you think you are separate from the man you slay, then it is only because of your own ignorance. Whether you have the right or not, you can shed no blood but your own. That is the Truth.'

The elf was silent for a long time as he thought over what Nihls had said. 'To lay aside the sword is to lay aside one's life,' Amro said at last. 'That is a hard doctrine. How can a people survive with it?'

'It is for the God to look after our survival,' Nihls said. 'For if he does not will that we live, no struggle could save us. Instead, we struggle to know the Truth, and to let the Truth be known in us.'

'I don't know if I can accept that,' the elf said, shaking his head. 'What will happen to those I love, if I were to follow your path and put away the sword?'

'What will happen to them will happen to them; of that there can be no doubt,' Nihls answered. 'But in the meanwhile look after your own soul.'

'My soul?' the elf laughed bitterly. 'Of what worth is the soul of an ancient traitor.

'Laugh not about the soul,' Nihls said. 'It is the vessel of the world.'

After giving those words a few moments of thought, the elf rose from his seat near the fire. He drew his blade and held it out toward Nihls. 'This,' he said, 'is the finest sword I have ever made. I am Amro, once a smith, but now a lord over men and elves. I have slain thousands, and my warriors have slain their ten thousands. But let me never kill again, and let he who bears this blade into battle be cursed. So sharp is its edge that it can cut spirit from bone, but I see now that a sword cuts the hand that wields it as deeply as it cuts his foes.'

A chill ran up the length of Nihls' spine when he realized to whom he had spoken. The elf bowed low, touching his forehead to the ground at the feet of Nihls. The youth rose quickly and with a great start. 'Bow not to me; for I am like you - incomplete and frail. Believe not the lies of the Dragon, which appear within the errors of perspective. Bow your heart and mind only to the Truth, which dwells in all things and in which all things dwell.'

The elf turned from him as quickly as he had come and vanished into the darkness, the two of them destined never to meet again. Nihls stood where he was for a minute before he fell into the dust and shook with terror. He wept long into the night, finally falling asleep just before the first hints of sunlight began to appear.
[Chapter V:  
Seasons of Loneliness](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Envy

'I cannot believe this has happened; my God, my God!' Giretta wept, burying her head in Noro's stiff arms. When first they wed she took the rigidity of his grip to be a sign of his strength. But when he first had come to her he had no such resistance to her touch. It was not until one of the minor feast days had come, and after Noro had drunk his fill of wine, that she realized that it was the drink that had been the cause of his initial tenderness, and not his love for her. She spent much of her time either in sorrow or in anger, for she found that, now that she had him, she did not want Noro. And now that she understood the role wine and ale had played in their marriage, she knew that he did not want her.

'Do not cry, wife,' Noro said, in a voice at least as impatient as it was comforting. 'We will have time for tears yet. For now see to it that you have the strength to move when we must move. You have been very lucky,' he assured her. 'Many have lost husbands and fathers, but you have retained both.'

In truth she was worried greatly for Nihls, though she had not spoken to him for a long while. She knew that he would more than likely do something noble and foolish and get himself killed. She also knew that in his arms she might find a truly sympathetic caress - and not only when he was moved by wine or ale. Nay, all the love he bore for her, she knew, was a sober and therefore genuine sentiment. Nihls would hold her and comfort her without any expectation or designs. At least, he would have before she had wed Noro. Now she could not expect such a thing. Nihls would not do anything that might seem unseemly to another man's wife.

Amarin and Ebbe had found them along the road the morning after the attack, and they traveled together to the border of Alwan, where a great camp of survivors was hastily constructed. Ebbe seemed positively terrified by the spear that now seemed to accompany Noro wherever he went. Amarin just shrugged after looking at it uneasily for a moment. He was not about to pick one up himself just yet, but so long as none of the Wisemen objected, it was hardly his responsibility to worry about it. Giretta said nothing about it, but no matter where they stood or where they went her eyes refused utterly to acknowledge the weapon.

Noro took charge of the survivors, ordering their camp and rationing their supplies. He took to leadership naturally, and soon won the respect of all, if he had it not already from his reputation in Thedval. The greater portion of those who followed him, however, were not originally Enthedu, but had come to them recently, fleeing the wars of the elves. Many of these took up weapons also, and something of a guard was formed to protect the people as they traveled. 'It would not be murder, after all, to defend one's own life,' they reasoned. They had embraced all the ways of the Enthedu, but their peaceful ways last of all, and not fully. They were all too eager to stand beside Noro for the sake of the survivors.

Garam was among the survivors as well, but he found himself powerless in the presence of Noro. He know somewhat of the misery his own folly had brought upon his daughter. He was fearful of Noro, partly because he knew the man must hate him, and partly because he feared that his wrath might be turned against his daughter. He was the chief of the Wisemen who had escaped. If he did not oppose Noro then there were no others who would dare.

'The valley is lost to us, and we are lost to the valley,' he thought sorrowfully. 'We no longer are Enthedu, old friend,' he said, thinking of Sazo. 'We need a new name indeed.'

The next morning Nihls woke Meidi early and the two of them made their way south until the sun rose to its height. Meidi rode sullenly on Urian while Nihls led the horse gently by the reigns. They kept off the road as much as they were able, fearing the scouts of the elves. They were traveling deeper into Alwan, and those who had attacked them would not be able to march far in this area without drawing the attention of Pelas' commanders.

When the afternoon had passed they entered the South Wood, which marked the end of Thedval and the beginning of Alwan. Rather, it marked the beginning of Alwan in the minds of the Enthedu - Pelas reckoned the whole valley of Thedval a part of his own kingdom (in truth he saw only two kinds of land: That which was under his power, and that which ought to be so).

By the time the evening came they found themselves within sight of a great camp of people. It was too dark, however, to discern their identity, and Nihls refused to go down to them. Meidi sniffed, but accepted his reasons. She had said very little to him since her escape from her father's house. She spent most of her time weeping, even as she traveled. But Nihls could do nothing for her; nor did he think that he should - for it is not a sign of any malignity to weep for loved ones. He could not decide if an embrace would be appropriate in such a circumstance. Had he been Noro or any of the Wisemen or elders of Thedval, she would have fallen into his arms.

The thought of Giretta and her hatred of the girl restrained him as much as the fear that Meidi herself would not want to be touched by him. Meidi had never treated him more than civilly, and very often far less than that. He knew that she still resented him for what had happened at the bathing pool now so many years ago, but he also knew that there was nothing he could say that would convince her of the truth. Nor would it be in any way appropriate to mention such a thing. It would be dishonorable too, since he could only cleanse his own name by dirtying the good name of others. If it was unfair for him to be treated so on account of such a matter long past, then it would hardly be fair to bring reproach against another. Still, he could not help but feel something of a pull toward her; he wanted very much to do something to ease her sorrows, but there was nothing.

The next morning they went down the hill and entered the camp with the rising of the sun. There they were greeted by many who had fled from Thedval. Many familiar folk were gathered there, but nearly every household had been diminished by the attack of the elves. There were some who survived the attack alone, losing all their family and there were those who, save for some distant relations, lost no one. But on the whole there was not a soul who had not cause for mourning, and even those who lost no one wept with those who had suffered loss.

When it was noised about that Meidi had survived there was some excitement. She was the last among them who could trace their ancestry to Blest Candorian, now that her parents had been slain, and her cousin's household utterly destroyed. There were many others who were, in some manner, also descended from Candorian, but they knew not the names that bound them to that ancient person. In light of all that had been suffered, though, it hardly seemed important to Nihls. The people clung to it as a sign of the Eternal King's good favor. Noro especially seemed to think her escape was positively a miracle - and he indicated that it was even more the miracle for having been brought about by Nihls.

Giretta's heart leaped for joy when she heard that Nihls had survived. But it sank deep into the mire of bitterness when she saw the company in which he traveled - and traveled alone. At the edge of her mind a voice seemed to tell her that she had no right to her jealousy, but she pretended that the thought had not so much as occurred to her.

When division arose about which way the company was to go, and what manner of company they ought to be, she opposed Nihls face to face.

The controversy arose in the following way:

When the night had passed, Noro gathered the elders and the remaining Wisemen at the center of the encampment. He stood with his spear in his left hand, his strong muscles flexed as he gripped it, ready to kill by the look in his eyes. 'No people has had a mission more important than ours,' he began soberly.

Nihls closed his eyes sadly as he listened; he believed at least that Noro meant what he was saying, though he did not believe it was right.

'And we have suffered much for that mission. From the days of Theodysus himself we have been hunted and hated both by the Doctrai and the godhunters of Sunlan. Only in the wilds and in the secret vales have we had safety. We have been prey for goblins and brigands, and for many others besides. The history of the Enthedu is not so long as other races of men, but it is as long in injuries and sorrows. We have long been patient with our enemies, and we have long sought after peace. But there are times, my brethren, when peace comes only after war. If we are called to peace, then, let us follow after it by the wisest means, and not foolishly as we have hitherto done. Let every man take up a sword or a spear, and let every woman take up a shield and a bow.

'Some may say,' he continued, 'that we must leave such matters to the King, who rules over all things. I say, leave it to him, but keep your weapon close! We would betray our calling if we allowed the wicked men and elves of Alwan and Ilvas to trample us to nothing. We are the people of peace; let us fight for peace and achieve it, then.'

Nihls thought that the Wisemen would rise up against Noro, and demand he renounce his leadership of the people of Theodysus. He expected to hear angered arguments and reprimands, such as he had seen when Teacher Abbon was driven away. But Noro's open opposition to the commands of the Blest was forgotten in the tumultuous praise that followed his speech. 'Sazo's teaching has taken full effect,' Nihls thought bitterly. Noro had forsaken the ways of Theodysus because, to his mind, they were not 'working.' But the teachings of Theodysus are truths, and not means.

When the shouts and cries faded Nihls found himself standing between the people and Noro, his arms raised to gain their attention. He did not know how he had come to stand in this way, but the concern within him burned, and he could do nothing and say nothing except what he said and did that very moment.

'Enthedu,' he began. 'So named because we take ourselves to be nothing, and have our being only in the Hidden Name. But this name is not a call to striving, it is not a command to do or to go, to war or to surrender. It is a call to know. He who slays his neighbor, spills his own blood. This is the truth.'

'So speaks the Enthedu who first bore a sword,' mocked the others. Noro stood silently, letting the fearful people argue against Nihls.

The passions in the camp were too high for any true discourse, and Nihls found himself silenced by noise more than by clever words. In the end he could only say that he would take no part in a fighting Enthedu any more than he would set sail upon a dry river. 'Remove the water,' he said, and you may still call it a river if you will, but it will not be so.'

'Sail the river, then,' a man shouted, 'while there is yet water in it!'

'I will go,' Nihls said, his voice more than on the edge of tears. 'And I welcome any who would follow me.' Without meaning it or realizing it his eyes flashed to Giretta, whose face reddened, at first with warmth and fondness, but in the next instant, as her marriage to Noro returned to her mind, with anger and hatred. A silent but significant exchange took place in that moment between Giretta, who stood beside Noro, and Meidi, who stood near Ebbe and Amarin.

Meidi was looking intently upon Giretta, and the moment their eyes met she walked over to Nihls and stood less than an inch from him, clearly showing her support for his stance - in fact, she only chose to stand with him because she did not want to be partied with Giretta, who had, to her mind at least, taken advantage of Noro's drunkenness in order to get the marriage of her choice. The perils of the moment only served to fuel the enmity between the two women.

If Giretta's face grew any redder it would have caught fire, Amarin thought. She walked forward and stood before Nihls, unleashing all the rage she felt toward Meidi upon him.

'What manner of men do you ask these people to be?' she said, looking down at his sword with spite. 'Men with dull swords; ground down till they would not cut through a pudding. That is what you would have of us. But thank the Eternal one we have some among us who would fight for their women!'

Nihls was too distraught to see the pleading look that entered her eye for but a moment. But she could do nothing; she was wed to Noro, and Nihls would do nothing against their union.

The unfairness of it burned her, and she turned away from him, storming off to stand next to Noro, mirroring Meidi's behavior. Soon the other leaders of the Enthedu began to move, some standing beside Nihls, but most of them moving over to Noro's side.

'Are the Enthedu broken, then?' Nihls asked, no longer able to hold back the tears in his eyes. 'Shall there be two of what can only be one people?'

'If you part from us,' Noro said, with markedly less emotion, 'then it is you who has divided the Enthedu. We are here, and our hands are outstretched toward you, brother.'

Nihls held out his own hand, but neither man moved an inch closer to the other. 'Then farewell,' Nihls said. If any man among you needs aid, do not fear or hesitate to send for me, and I will do what I can to help you. But I cannot help you if you mean to take up arms to do violence.'

With those words the Enthedu parted, some three-hundred and fifty families accompanying Noro in a march westward into Alwan and away from the wars that raged near the Thedul River.

Nihls, however, departed into the south with Meidi, Teacher Eren and his wife, along with a few others following him as he made his way along one of the tributaries of the Thedul River. Before he had departed Amarin walked over to Nihls and took his hand in his own. 'I am sorry, brother,' he said. 'I cannot follow you. I cannot leave Ebbe alone; you must understand me.'

Nihls looked over Amarin's shoulder at Giretta, whose face now looked sad and forlorn. 'I understand you, brother,' Nihls said. 'I pray that the Eternal King will reunite us some day.'

'As do I,' Amarin said.

'Amarin,' Nihls said just as the other man made to turn away.

'What is it?' he asked.

'Keep an eye on her,' he did not need to say who he meant.

They parted ways for the better part of a year.

So Unhappy

Noro was in a sour mood for the rest of that day. He said nothing, but Giretta could see in his eyes a longing and a sadness at the departure of Meidi. Giretta had him, but not his heart. And she was beginning to believe that she never would have his love.

He could not truly blame Giretta for the path his life had taken, but he felt toward her very much the same as if she really was to blame. He had once accused her of plotting against him and Meidi along with her father Garam. But her wrath toward him was so fierce that he abandoned that suggestion altogether, and permanently. The bandage he wore over his left eye for the week following that argument was reminder enough to ensure that he never made that mistake again.

Since he could have no other reason for his ill mood, aside from the plain truth that he loved Meidi and not his own wife, he took to sulking and complaining about Nihls.

Giretta knew enough of the teachings of the Enthedu, and from Nihls she knew enough of Teacher Abbon's ideas, to understand that for all the long history of the people of Theodysus they taught and practiced peace. But Noro's arguments were not folly, to her mind. She could never bring herself to accept Abbon's doctrines.

When she was a very small child she was brought to the Teacher for slapping another. She made her defense as might be expected, laying some offense at the feet of her adversary. But Abbon shook his head and knelt down to look at her eyes. 'No man can move alone; that is what Theodysus taught us. It is not fair to repay a person for an offense, Giretta. For we are all of one spirit, and it is that spirit that suffers all offenses. Suffer every offense as if it were a penalty, and then justice will be done. Do not avenge yourself, for then you only renew the offense. Let your suffering be the end, and then both you and your adversary will be forgiven. He will have paid in your suffering and you will have your revenge in his crime. The spirit is one.'

She had always admired his mystical expressions, and if the world were made of dreams she would accept them, and think them best. But she could not believe that it was the will of the Eternal King to leave his people to suffer and die with no recourse and no defense. The teachings of Abbon were cold and empty, she thought - and dark. But Sazo and the other Wisemen taught of the King's great affection for mankind, and how it is ever in his heart to lift them up and not to harm them. If she were to believe Abbon she would be forced to say that it was by the King's will that the elves oppressed mankind, and drove the Enthedu from the valley.

In the end, however, she could not say that the bright and hopeful teachings of Sazo truly contributed a thing toward her own happiness. 'We are not meant for happiness,' she could hear Nihls repeating. He used to say it again and again, and for a time he convinced her to say it every day and at every meal. But her father grew distraught and very nearly threatened to break their betrothal. At the time she wished he would break it.

As they prepared to depart into the west, Giretta thought upon all these things, and they seemed to swell up within her until she felt ill. She rushed from her tent into the night and was sick.

And her sickness continued for the next few days - nay, for the next few weeks. It was not long before she understood the nature of her sudden illness.

'We are not meant for happiness,' she said to Noro, as she struggled to find a way to tell her husband that she was with child.

Noro sniffed, 'You have never spoken a truer word, Giretta.'

She did not think that he would be entirely unhappy about her news. But a child was supposed to be the bodily manifestation of its parents' affection. 'What manner of dark soul shall this child become?' she asked herself silently. The child would at the very least be the embodiment of her connection to Noro. Among the Enthedu it was not considered proper to abandon one's spouse, save for the most egregious of offenses. And Giretta would not go against her people. But the child growing in her womb made the chains that bound her to her husband all the more unbreakable. And if the connection to a man she didn't love was painful, she began to fear that the severance from the man she now knew to be her true love would be fatal.

Amro

Nearly four months had passed since the destruction of Thedval, and Amro found that he could no longer find any pleasure in war. He had never been a bloodthirsty man, but protecting his brother, protecting Ele and protecting Dalele drove him to fight. He found pleasure in protecting his kin, and so he excelled in every art of war, from the making and forging of blades to the breaking and forging of alliances. He had been caught up in the fate of Lord Pelas and Lord Agonas, and he had become a mighty lord among the elves. His name was revered in every land, and even among the mortals. He was known for his wisdom and his strength, his skill and his fairness. But yet he felt every day as though his body was a hollow shell. There was no sense to it. His brother was long since grown and his kin had many protectors now. And the kingdoms of Bel Albor were all so corrupted and sick with power-lust that he could not decide which was the wickedest of the three.

How many millions had perished in senseless wars between men too self ennobled to risk their own lives for the sake of their ambitions.

Amro did not altogether forsake war after the taking of Thedval. He did what any other would have done - he looted the valley and took all of its wealth and plunder across the Thedul into Ilvas. The flight of the Enthedu drew the attention of Alwan's guardians, and the response of Maru was quick and deadly, making it impossible for any more men or elves of Ilvas to cross the Thedul. This was not something that any man could have stopped, for in that region the whole might of Alwan could be sent against them. The people of Lushlin, at that same time, pushed hard against Agonas, and to the dark son of Parganas' great shock, he was pushed out of that land, and forced to flee into the east. Maru and the other high elves crossed the Thedul and, with Daruvis at the head of their army, they reclaimed the east bank of Thedul, from Thedval to the Lake. But it was not until the end of the winter that the kingdom of Ilvas was truly broken.

Goblins descended from the Far North in numbers surpassing any force that had been gathered of their kind since the day the Dragon waged his wars against the dwarves of Kharku. They plundered and ravaged Ilvas, leaving everything that was not walled with stone in smolders. When Daruvis marched east to lay siege to Ilvas itself, however, the goblins fled at his coming, and vanished again from Bel Albor. If my reader is well-acquainted with what has been related in the Wars of Weldera, they shall easily perceive the cause of this inexplicable turn of events.

Soon after he lost his pleasure in battle, Amro seemed to lose even his abilities therein. He slew men only in defense of his own life, and sought not any conflict. He fell back where he might at other times have pushed forward. He spared his enemies; he made no ambushes. He soon found himself among the other elves of Ilvas, besieged in the old castle where Pelas first ruled as lord.

Abandoned by Sunlan, surrounded by Alwan and with the memory of the goblin army fresh in his mind, Lord Dalta surrendered his kingdom, and in a day the whole region from the Esse River to Mount Vitiai fell under Lord Pelas' dominion.

Lord Dalta was summoned to Alwan to bend knee and to offer an apology for all the blood that had been slain. In truth the dead men that lay in Alwan and in Ilvas were a trifle to Pelas - the true insult to his power was the mere fact that the elf had stood against him. It was said that his apology was as false as it was dramatic, and that Lord Pelas could not tell the difference, for he had become so filled with pride that he could not imagine but that the elf meant every word of his long, tear filled repentance. One by one were the elves of Ilvas sent to Alwan to pledge their allegiance anew to the son of Lady Aedanla. At last Amro and his brother received a summons, but they both refused, Ghastin because he would not bow to Pelas, and Amro because he would no longer bow to anyone. When this was reported to Lord Pelas he sent Daruvis to Ilvas with sixty of his swiftest riders. Pelas had chosen Daruvis for this mission because he more than any other elf in Alwan had understood the mighty smith. Falruvis had not forgotten the service rendered him by Amro while he had captained the Dadiiron off the coast of Dominas, and his son was raised in the shadow of Amro's greatness. Daruvis alone was permitted to learn Amro's methods of forging, and it was said that his skill was surpassed only by Amro himself. The high elves reasoned that if any man could convince Amro to do what must be done in order to appease Lord Pelas, it would be Daruvis.

But it was not to be.

Amro sat alone in the throne room of Ilvas, on the very seat where first Pelas and later Dalta had ruled. He ruled nothing, however, not even himself it seemed. He was beginning to think that he had misunderstood the words he heard so long ago from the three spirits that rule over mankind. He had never spoken of that night to any man, though the memory of those ancient beings entered into his thoughts and dreams frequently. Of late they seemed to press upon him at every moment, and the voices echoed in his mind as if they were heard anew. He had forgotten so much.

He laughed to himself to think that all of this had come about because some fool mortal child fought with a dulled blade. He had seen many men fight and die to save those he loved. That had long been his own motivation, and even when he fought and killed those who were, properly speaking, innocent, he had the assurance that they would do as he did if they were in his place - for he was only doing what he must do to save the lives of his kin. But this child fought as fervently to save the lives of his enemies.

These thoughts were interrupted as Cheru and Oblis barged into the throne room one after the other, garbed in their finest clothing.

Amro's heart sunk; his hatred for them was great, but he could now feel nothing but sorrow for them. He did not pity them, properly speaking, but he was embarrassed for them, as though they were not merely fools, but as if they were some uncomely part of his own body. That thought disgusted him, but he could not shake it away from his mind with any amount of thought or reasoning.

Now was the moment when he must choose between glory and shame. He might have all that he had hitherto enjoyed; with just a bowed knee to Lord Pelas he would acquire for himself great power and authority. But if he refused, he knew he would not live until morning.

Daruvis was coming; he had been informed of this the night before. But Cheru and Oblis had come first, and were ushered into the fortress without question as the emissaries of Lord Pelas. There they now stood, approaching Amro with the hatred and envy plain upon their faces. Amro rose to greet them. 'Hail friends,' he said, his voice flat and toneless. 'And I call you friends in truth. I had not heard that you had been sent here? Maru will be pleased, when he hears of your coming.'

He said this because he was certain that Maru had not yet been informed.

'Come with us,' Cheru said, the malice plain in his voice, 'friend,' he added.

Oblis just chuckled.

The three elves made their way slowly toward the great oak doors. But just as Amro started to push them open the servants of Pelas drew their blades and rushed upon him. It took them just long enough to reach him that they would forever know that, had he wanted to, Amro could have slain them both. Their swords pierced him through the back and he fell with a grunt to the ground, his body pushing the door open by its weight. He struggled for a moment, trying to lift himself from the carpet, but his life passed from him and he lay still, blood pouring from his wounds.

The fools hurriedly ran in front of him and stood as though they had attacked him straight on, and Cheru quickly drew Amro's sword from the dead elf's side and laid it near the mighty smith's hand as though he had drawn it against them.

Oblis chuckled as the two of them stood over Amro.

The Emptying of Ilvas

Ghastin stood watch over the northern walls of Ilvas, peering out into the woods for any sign that the goblins had returned. It was a task better left to the patrols of guards Dalta had assigned to the task, but Maru, for one reason or another, insisted that it was not necessary. It was a lonely task, and for that reason Ghastin elected to take it up himself. From there he could stare far off into lands uninhabited by elves and men, where only goblins and wolves dwelt. There was one great grey wolf that had come some days ago and by itself brought down a large stag. He had returned now for two days to finish off the carcass, bringing his pack with him. Ghastin just sat on the edge of the wall and watched them for hours as they tore pieces of flesh from the stag's body, leaving in the end nothing but a pile of rotting bones. The great wolf paused from its feasting for a moment and seemed to look right at Ghastin. A chill filled him, and he felt as if the beast had entered into him by the very light of its eyes.

He envied the beast. Men were predators as much as any brute, but there was a nobility about wolves that could not be rivaled by men, who hid their viciousness under forms and traditions.

'Lord Ghastin,' a young man said, arriving on the wall panting with exhaustion.

'I was told that Cheru and Oblis had arrived,' the youth said. 'I was told to tell you at once.' The young man could not know the meaning of this news, but nevertheless reported it with all the gravity it deserved.

'Who sent you?' Ghastin asked, his voice sharp with concern.

'Lord Amro himself,' he answered.

'Does Maru know of this?' Ghastin asked, already moving quickly toward the entrance of the fortress.

'He is in the city among the warriors today; but messengers have been sent to him,' the young man said, licking his lips.

'See to it that the lady Dalele is forewarned,' Ghastin said, adjusting his sword. He was as fearful for his brother as he was eager to shed the blood of those two bungling fools. They had not been sent by Lord Pelas; of that he was certain. Amro was too important to the success of Alwan, and Pelas would not permit him to be harmed for any reason. And Pelas knew at least enough to know better than to send those two to bring Amro to Alwan.

His quick steps turned into a full run when he came to the long, straight corridors of the inner fortress. He rounded a corner just in time to see the doors of the throne room open and Amro fall out upon the ground. Amro struggled for a moment and their eyes met. His eyes held neither surprise or sorrow; he fell to the ground and lay still.

The moment Ghastin spent standing and watching this horror felt longer and more wearisome to him than any of the long ages he had lived. He inhaled; it felt to him as if it were his first breath after a thousand years, and it seemed to fill his body with fire. So concerned with creating the appearance of a struggle were the fool servants of Pelas that they did not hear Ghastin draw his sword. They were alerted to his presence, however, when the youth rushed up behind him and said in a panic, 'The Lady Dalele is not in her apartments!'

Thuruvis, Ghastin knew, had gone with Dalta to Alwan, to make peace with Pelas for the sake of Dalele - for Pelas would remember Dalele's service to him kindly.

Cheru and Oblis turned white at the sight of Ghastin's approach. They stared upon him as if he had the face of Death himself, and they quaked as they struggled to remember the rest of their plot.

'D-Dalele!' Cheru shouted in a fright. 'She is under our power, Ghastin. One word and she will perish!'

'Touch her and Lord Pelas will never forgive you,' Ghastin answered sharply.

'Pelas forgives what pleases him,' they answered. 'And he chooses according to those who demonstrate the greater loyalty.'

This much was true, at least. Their talent for groveling would not be easy for Pelas to replace, and in the end Ghastin did not think that he would punish them too severely. Amro had no great love for Pelas, and their account would sound very credible to his ears. Though everything within him burned to paint his sword red with their blood, he knew that Amro would not forsake Dalia to their power. 'Release her, and I will spare your lives - for a time,' Ghastin said.

'For a time,' Cheru laughed. 'I should have killed you when you were a suckling,' he taunted, walking forward and taking Ghastin's sword. He summoned guards to his side and ordered him bound and imprisoned. Their conflict had drawn too much attention, and Maru would not forgive them if they slew Ghastin in front of so many witnesses. They could claim whatever they wished regarding Amro, but they could not contradict the experience of so many eyes should they dare to harm Ghastin. 'Put him in the dungeons!' Oblis shouted, happy for once to have thought of a command to issue before Cheru.

As Fate would have it they did not need to give any answer to Maru for what took place there. A message was sent to the 'lords of Ilvas' that the army of Sunlan was on the march, and a great host would soon fall upon Ilvas from across the Esse River. Agonas, apparently, had not entirely forsaken that land.

Maru was already marching with a great host to sure up the defenses of Alwan along the western banks of the Esse River. They did not have the strength to hold Ilvas, however.

Thus the city and the fortress were emptied, and the warriors sent elsewhere.

Word of Amro's death was spread abroad, and the report said that he opposed Lord Pelas' summons and was slain by Cheru the mighty.

Dalia and her kin, along with most of the other high elves, never believed this report. They did not doubt, however, the report that Ghastin also had been slain - or murdered as they saw it. With Pelas as the highest judge in the land, however, there was no hope for justice or truth to emerge.

Thus Ghastin found himself peering out of an iron-barred window upon an empty forest, with no sound but the gentle sounds of the night surrounding him. He was utterly alone, imprisoned within a forsaken fortress. In the distance, however, he could hear the sound of wolves howling. He shut his eyes and let himself be filled with that sound - for it sounded to him like the sound of his own heart mourning the loss of his brother.
[Chapter VI:  
The Blest of Anatheda](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Reunion

As might have been anticipated, the teachings of Abbon had begun to spread in north Alwan, finding ears among both elves and men in many of the villages that lay near to the Thedul River. By asking around along the river Nihls was able to discern that Abbon had gone south along the course of the water, making his way at long last to the southern lake country, where the Thedul became a raging flood, pouring into the Great Lake over an immense waterfall. In that region, not a day's walk from the fall itself, stood a tomb, the inscription of which read, 'The Teacher of Truth.' Among the people of that region many already knew the name Theodysus, and had learned the Hidden Wisdom Abbon had taught.

Nihls wept long outside of the tomb, while Meidi and the other Enthedu who had accompanied him watched in silence. Some were uneasy at his sorrow over the passing of a man who had been driven out from them. But others seemed to see their own parting from Noro's party as a parting of the very same nature. Some said, 'We are no longer Enthedu,' to which others asked, 'Then what are we?'

For a time it seemed as though they had escaped the war, and found something of a new life as wanderers. Nihls would have had the people settle somewhere and farm the land as they had before, but the others wished to find the rest of the Enthedu to see if some agreement could be found between them. 'The Doctrai will not tolerate us,' he was counseled. 'They scarcely tolerated us when we lived beyond the borders of their power. Now that we dwell within we will be compelled to acknowledge Pelas as a god, or we will be slain and exiled.'

'That would be a bitter exile,' Nihls laughed. But in the end he gave in to their reasoning, and they made a living trading between the villages along the Thedul, and along some of its tributaries.

As winter approached the following year, however, the people found themselves eager to meet with the other survivors of Thedval. After a long and unprofitable journey (Meidi rightly accused Nihls of being a dreadful man of business) the followers of Nihls came at last to the foothills of Mount Vitiai, where, they had learned, the rest of the Enthedu had come to reside.

The wind was blowing strongly as they rode into what they were told was the new village of Anatheda. The hills were dotted with log cabins, each with a steady stream of smoke rising into the wind. Lights warmed the windows and looked welcoming to the people as they approached. Their actual greeting, however, came from a party of horsemen, each armed with spears, who rode out to meet them.

Nihls recognized none of them. His own number had grown somewhat, especially in the south where he had encountered those who had been taught, he believed, by Abbon himself. Noro's group, however, had nearly tripled, and there were swords on every hip and grim looking men in armor bearing banners. While many among Nihls' followers were openly hostile toward what they called his 'weakness,' these men seemed to be filled with loyalty for their master.

'Do you curse the Doctrai?' a black bearded man said with as little patience in his voice as there was kindness.

'No,' Nihls said with alarm. 'I curse no one.'

'I will ask but once more,' the man said coldly, hefting his spear as if he were preparing to attack.

'Listen to me!' Meidi said, pushing her way forward with a frustrated hiss. 'Without hesitation I can tell you that we curse the Doctrai, and I can tell you that we have no quarrel with the Enthedu.' She shook her head with frustration at the fact that, though it was Nihls' own trick, he utterly refused to make use of it. He could not even make a bargain without informing the buyer what flaws the merchandise had, or how many barrels of apples were bruised or battered. As it was they had come to this place on the very last of their provisions, and were it not for the kindness they anticipated they would have perished in the wilderness, or been forced to seek aid among the people of Alwan.

'The Enthedu?' the bearded man spat. 'That name has been left behind.'

'Not by us,' Nihls said, turning the horse Urian to face the man

'Then you would do well to abandon it,' the man answered. 'I am Athar; captain of the guard of the Blest.'

For a moment Nihls doubted they had even come to the right place. But riding swiftly along the road he recognized the face of Amarin. His friend bore a sword across his shoulders and a bow was strapped unstrung to the side of his horse's saddle.

'Easy Athar!' Amarin said as he reigned his horse to a halt. 'These are friends.'

'Do you think me so rash, Master Amarin, that I would strike those who come to the Blest in peace?'

'I do not think so now, Athar,' Amarin laughed. 'These are dangerous times, and you are a dangerous man for them. Were they any others I would expect nothing less from you \- and Noro would require it.'

Nihls felt uneasy at the mention of Noro. The people here had experience in battle, and he wondered how much fighting the gentle Enthedu had seen - and taken part in - since he had departed.

'It is good to see you, brother,' Nihls said with a bow to Amarin.

'And it is good to see you as well, Nihls,' Amarin said, with just the slightest hint of hesitation. 'You will find that many things have changed, Nihls. Many things.'

With that he turned and galloped back up the hill along a rough dirt road. Athar and the guards followed him, but not until the man turned and said, 'Do not expect too much in the way of welcome. The Blest remember the ways of Theodysus; but we will not make the same mistakes and excesses that were made by the Enthedu and the Dull-blades.'

What that meant Nihls was afraid to hear. He thought it would not be difficult to guess the meaning of that latter term.

Say The Word

There was a feast prepared for the followers of Nihls, and every effort was made to make them feel not only welcome in Anatheda, but also to make known the precise cost of entertaining them. When they were given provisions they were told, not how many pounds or barrels of food they would receive, but the worth of it all in gold pieces. Noro held a great feast to greet them, and he called it an 'Arilna,' which was a word that had originally been used in reference to the portions the Enthedu set aside to satiate the hunger of the goblins in the north.

On the last day of Florhus, Nihls and Meidi, along with several others among the 'Dull-blades' were invited to dine at the house of Noro. A great boar was roasted, and every finery the Blest could manage was provided, and set before their eyes as a taunt. As much as Nihls would have expected a woman like Meidi to receive such treatment with anger, she looked at everything sadly and longingly.

She would probably be more content in Anatheda, Nihls thought as he watched her dining quietly at the feast.

Noro and Giretta were both seated at the head of the table, and Nihls and Meidi beside them, in the place reserved for an honored guest and his wife. This also was a taunt; for Noro seemed to take great pleasure in reminding Nihls that he was, 'as yet,' unmarried. He said, 'as yet,' in such a way that all who heard him could tell that he meant, 'will never be.'

Meidi did not seem at all pleased at being part of this taunt, having been seated in the place reserved for Nihls' wife. But she lay the blame for this cruelty entirely on Giretta, who in her mind had stolen away all her hope of happiness.

Giretta looked absolutely radiant, however, which made Meidi all the more bitter. Her hair was longer and more beautiful than ever - and the women of Anatheda did not seem to keep their hair up in braids. She seemed to have gained beauty with the birth of their son Ilnoron - her skin was nearly perfect and her eyes seemed to shine with health. Her clothing was fine; clearly the work of a city-seamstress and not of any craftswoman among the Enthedu. The Blest did a great deal of trading in Alwan, though they had to conceal their identities to avoid the attention of the Doctrai. This, Noro laughed, they managed by adopting Nihls' trick of premising every lie with the words, 'I am telling you,' or some variation thereof.

When the feast was finished the people left the table and spoke freely to whomever they wished. Meidi and Ebbe spoke for a long time in a quiet corner of the hall, Ebbe with a radiant grin and Meidi with a false one. Noro and Amarin made a few jokes about Nihls, recalling with fondness how they had let him take the blame for what happened at the bathing pools. Nihls looked about the room, wishing the girls were close enough to hear their confessions. 'Did you ever get that sword sharpened, brother?' Noro asked.

'I am still working on it,' Nihls said with as genuine a smile as he could manage. He had given up on getting Noro to understand him many years ago.

After a time Amarin and Noro fell into talking about matters that concerned only the Blest, and Nihls was surprised to discover that he was no longer a part of the conversation. He wandered from the table and sought a place to sit where he would not be trampled or troubled.

There was a great deal of ale and wine being poured, and no small amount of pipe smoke in the air; the smell of it bothered his nose. He stepped out through the door and threw his cloak over his shoulders, walking out under the light of a nearly full moon. A small lamp burned outside the hall, casting a small patch of light upon the path to the main road of Anatheda. He stood there for only a moment before he heard the door open, releasing the noise from within for just a moment before shutting once again. He heard a rustle and then felt the warmth of someone standing very near to him.

'Nihls,' he heard Giretta's voice begin. 'I cannot tell you how much I have missed you.'

His heart sank; he could think of little else he would have wanted more to hear from her. But as sweet as it sounded, it left a sourness within him.

'I have missed you as well, Giretta,' he said. After a moment he added, 'Who could have known that this is how things would turn out?'

He turned to look at her, and saw that there was a tear on her cheek. He immediately regretted his words. 'What is it, Giretta?' he asked compassionately. 'Have I troubled you?'

'No, Nihls,' she said, more tears dripping from her eyes. 'You have done nothing to offend me.'

There was something in her voice that almost seemed to indicate that she meant, not that she was not offended, but that it was another who had done it.

'You look well, Giretta,' he said. 'Is Garam in good health?'

'He has taken to babbling of the old days, and he drinks more ale than a man ought,' she answered with a slight grin, 'but he is still in good health.'

'I am glad for that at least,' Nihls said.

There was silence for a while, then Giretta said, 'Nihls, you must despise me.'

Nihls turned to her with confusion on his face, 'No, Giretta. Never. I-' she cut him off.

'I was mistaken, Nihls, I should not have married him,' she said, shaking her head.

'Is everything alright, Giretta?' he asked her.

'Nothing, Nihls, not since the day we wed,' she felt sick with regret when she thought back to how foolish she had been that night when Noro came to her in a drunken stupor - that was as much of a marriage as a fool like she deserved. 'Can you... forgive me,' she pleaded, her voice sounded as though she meant to ask for something else; something more.

'There is nothing to forgive, Giretta,' he said, putting his hand upon her cheek and lifting her head gently till they looked in one another's eyes.

'I would go with you,' she said, almost as if she meant that very moment.

'You are safer here,' Nihls said. 'And your family is here also.'

There was but a moment of silence before Nihls added, 'I have not seen your son, Giretta! How happy he must be to have a mother such as you!'

Giretta sniffed as though he was jesting, but her eyes softened as she considered who it was who spoke. 'He is very much half his father,' she said as if in complaint - as if it would make Nihls hate the child.

'A child is made of his parents like a house is made of trees and earth - a new form that ought not be judged by its old nature.'

That was similar to something Teacher Abbon had said, Giretta recalled, but she could tell that Nihls had given it as much thought on his own. 'If anything... happens to me,' she said quietly - it did not sound as though she meant it when she said 'if' - 'will you look after Ilnoron? Will you make sure that he is safe and well, and that he is raised in our ways?'

It was a strange request, he thought, since his father ought to be the one caring for the child in such a circumstance. But he nodded and said in a comforting tone, 'Of course.'

'You do not hate me, then?' Giretta said, almost sounding as if she were pleading.

'I could not hate you, Giretta,' he answered.

'You used to love me, Nihls,' she said. 'I know that now. I did not understand it when we were younger.'

His chest lowered as his breath slipped out through his nostrils. His next breath came only with a tremendous effort. He had longed for such words for years, but they made him feel as uneasy as he felt glad to hear them.

'And I loved you too, Nihls,' she said with no truth in the tense of her expression.

The door opened again, and the noise from within startled them both. Nihls quickly moved away from her as a few drunk Blest stumbled out of the house and onto the road, too filled with ale to notice anyone else. Nihls looked longingly at the door as if he desperately wanted to return to the smoke and stupidity within. In truth, he very much wanted to be right in the place where he now stood, hearing kind words from the woman he loved. Abbon had said that a man can wish two opposite things because he is one man in name only - in fact a man is and wants many things, for there are many motives hidden within his breast, each vying for the ascendancy.

Giretta swallowed and said in a heartbroken voice, 'You are too good for even the Enthedu, Nihls,' she said.

'If there is aught that is troubling you, Giretta,' Nihls said, noticing her deep sadness, 'just tell me. Say the word and I will help you in whatever way that I can.'

'Can you love me,' she said, her words escaping before her thoughts could prevent them. 'Can you love me again?' she put her hands on his cheeks and pushed his hair away from his face.

He started back as though she were a bear rather than a woman, and took her hands gently into his own. His eyes darted around, hoping that none had seen them.

Giretta noticed the movement of his gaze and turned - just in time to see Meidi come to stand near the large window in the front of the hall. Jealousy filled her to the brim like rain in a barrel when the spring storms strike the cold north. She turned back toward him angrily, but before she could say anything he said, 'If someone has harmed you, Giretta,' he meant Noro of course, 'then but say the word and I will rescue you.' He hoped with all his heart that he would not have to answer her question.

With a quivering lip she remembered her old bitterness and said, the untruth apparent in her voice, 'No, Nihls. No one has wronged me,' she answered, calmly, but as her bitterness and sadness rose she heard more words coming from her mouth, unbidden. 'And I have, perhaps, better protections here among those who use stones to sharpen their swords rather than to beat them into rusted sticks.'

He smiled, but she could tell that he had been hurt by her words. How could she say that she loved him, she thought, when all she ever spoke to him were hurtful words?

'I am glad that you are well, Nihls,' she said as she turned back toward the hall. That much was the truth at least.

She walked back into the smoke filled room and said her goodbyes and vanished from the gathering with the excuse that her son was calling for her. Meidi was gone - she thanked the God for that - and she could not find her husband. This was probably for the best, she thought, since she was in no mood to treat kindly with him.

Nihls walked silently back to the encampment of those who had followed him - the last of the Enthedu, he realized as he thought about all that had changed among the Blest. Tears fell down his cheeks in a steady stream until he forget his sorrows in sleep.

Happiness

'Look at the beauty of the sunrise if you doubt,' Teacher Sazo had said to his pupils. 'Look to the beauty of the raylilia and the rose if you doubt. Look to the cold beauty of the moon in winter and the warm breeze of a summer evening if you have any doubts, my children, that the Eternal King loves you. You know what you want; but the Eternal King knows you more than even you know yourself - how much more does he, then, know what you want? Trust in him, and your desires will never fail. Did Theodysus come to us to make us prisoners? Did he come to make us wretched? Did he come to make us beggars or sickly? Nay - he was a healer; he is a healer, and there is no darkness of heart that he does not long to remove from you.

'A good man seeks the good of his fellows,' Sazo had continued. 'What then shall the Eternal King seek, if not that which is best for men? Do not fear to be happy, then! What is life if it is not lived in the abundance of the Eternal King? We are not given the name of Theodysus as a plague or a curse - it is a blessing. And he does not bless a man who wishes him ill, and who wishes him misery. The God wishes for nothing more than that men be happy!'

This speech ran through Noro's mind as he held Meidi in his arms in one of the guest chambers of his house. They had spoken in the hall for a while and her unhappiness seemed to mirror his own. 'You do not belong to Nihls, then?' Noro laughed, thinking how strange it was the she had not married the man who had saved her life.

'Do not mock me, Noro,' she said, her voice cold despite the warmth of her embrace. 'I do not love Nihls,' she said with no hesitation.

'Then why did you leave?' he could not quite say, 'Why did you leave me?' but the longing look in his eyes said what his lips dared not utter.

'You left me first, Noro,' she said, pushing him away from her. 'I humiliated myself to regain your betrothal. I made a fool of poor Furinn also,' she said with a shudder. Furinn had not escaped Thedval's destruction. 'And having made such a spectacle of him I could hardly go back to him. What does that leave me with?'

Noro did not have time to answer before she said, 'Nihls! Nihls, the peeping pupil of mad Abbon. That is what I am left with because you had to fill yourself with wine and lay with that pig of a girl rather than try to think of a way to win me back. That is what a real man would do,' she said angrily.

Something about what she had just said seemed to strike Noro like a sword blow. He staggered back and put his hand on his head. As soon as he recovered he took her arms in each of his hands and said, 'Do you think that it has been easy for me? Every time I kiss her - and she allows precious little of that! - I am pained. I could have held you for all this time, but I am bound, hand and foot because her father took advantage of my sorrow.' His eyes seemed to plead with her. 'Meidi, I cannot believe that this is how it was supposed to be! I cannot believe it! You are right Meidi, she is a pig! And she will punish me every day until I die - until I cut my own throat to be free of her!'

'Say not such things,' Meidi said, putting her hands up toward his mouth.

'What I truly want and desire, Meidi, is to be with you and you alone. I can take you away from here; away from the Blest and the dull-swords, away from Giretta and Nihls - away from it all. I do not love her, Meidi - I never did and I never will. Am I to be left in this state forever? Is my life to be a curse, for one moment of folly? Yes, Meidi, I name it folly! I lost faith in you; and I lost you. I lost you, but you are as air to my lungs! What am I to do? Am I to perish in this state? Is this what I must endure? I won't have it, Meidi!'

She was shaking now from hearing of his deep hurt and sorrow. She pushed her head onto his chest and held onto his shoulders with his hands. She did not expect him to feel as passionately for her as he once had, but his words made it plain. It seemed that his passion had only multiplied in the time they had been separated. A part of her recoiled at his touch and at his words, but there seemed to be a warmth swelling up within her that pushed all other considerations away. They stood for a long time like this before he finally took her cheek in his hand and said to her, 'I love you, and I will love you always.'

He kissed her deeply with both of his hands caressing her cheeks. In one quick motion she loosed the ribbon in her hair and her dark locks fell over his hungry hands like a sudden eclipse of the sun.

The King's Manor

The next morning the village of Anatheda was thrown into chaos. The sun rose to wake Noro and Meidi in the guest room, Nihls and all his people in their tents, the guards of the village in their cabins, but not Giretta. She was found in her bed with an empty glass vial clutched in her hand, her son weeping in his own bed beside her.

Her skin was as cold and pale as Death, and she roused to no man's voice. Yet she suffered no more jealousy, no more rage and no more sorrow or bitterness. Hearing the agonized sounds of her discovery, Noro woke and dressed, commanding Meidi to remain until he had called for her.

The rest of that day seemed to have a soul of its own, and no man could do more than follow where custom led. Giretta was robed in white and her hair was brushed and laid upon her shoulders. Flowers surrounded her, and she was lain upon a bed in the main hall of Noro's house. The whole people, both the Blest and the Enthedu came and mourned her, though hardly a soul of them had more than known her name and the fame of her husband beforehand.

Meidi had, as far as any one could say, vanished during the feast the night before. When the evening was come and the crowds had mostly dispersed, she appeared. She was dressed in a plain grey dress, her hair neatly braided atop her head with a grey shawl covering most of her face. She passed by Nihls, Amarin and Noro as if they were ghosts, patted Ebbe on the arm and then put a gentle hand upon Giretta's cheek. Her eyes shut and she leaned over and kissed Giretta on the forehead before walking out of the house as quickly and quietly as she had appeared.

Noro's face was filled with angst at her coming, and he stared after her for a long while.

The others said their goodbyes and then left Noro alone with his wife.

Ebbe and Amarin took Ilnoron to their own home to care for him while Noro grieved.

Nihls left last of all, his face stained with tears and his eyes red with weeping. He looked at Noro carefully before he left, and in his eyes he thought he saw nothing like what one might expect in a man who had just lost his beloved. Noro had lost his wife indeed, but she was not his beloved. The only words that Nihls could think of to describe the feeling shown on Noro's face was 'bitterness.'

Nihls put his thumb upon Giretta's lips before he left and whispered tearfully as he shook his head, 'Just say the word, Giretta; say the word.'

His heart sank and he left her, never again to see her in the world of the living.

On the morrow the preparations for Giretta's burial were begun at dawn. Nihls sought out Garam and found him sober for the first time since he had arrived at Anatheda. The old man was distraught, however, and Nihls pressed him for an explanation. 'There is nothing that can be done, boy,' he huffed. 'You know that passages: "Murderers and liars shall not enter the King's Manor any more than shall kinslayers and those who lay out their babes to die in the wild." Shall those who will not live in the abode of the King in the life to come lay with the dead in this present life?'

Nihls knew the reasoning of the Enthedu on such matters well enough, but the memory of Teacher Abbon stirred within him at the sorrowful father's words. 'She will lie with her people,' Nihls said firmly, and the old man laughed.

'You are young enough to still think that things can be changed,' he muttered. 'I thank you for your hopefulness, Nihls. I wish-' he could not say anything more, and his breathing became labored.

'Wishing is for children,' Nihls said with a smile. 'The Eternal King is truth - that is what we are about, Teacher Garam. Do not mourn for that which could not be - there is enough sorrow in what is. But if I must die to see it done, Teacher, I will see Giretta buried with the Enthedu.' He had not decided it beforehand, but as he spoke that last word he realized that he would never call the others 'Blest'. They were either of Theodysus or they were not - and it didn't matter what they were called or what they called themselves.

He went to those who were accounted Wisemen among the Blest and asked that Giretta's body be deposited among the others who had perished among the Blest, and not in an unmarked pit dug hastily on Noro's property.

Urlon, who was considered the leader of the Wisemen in Anatheda, opposed him with as much venom in his voice as he could force into a whisper. 'Do not bring further shame upon the good name of Noro and has fallen bride, Nihls, son of a stranger. Is it not enough that this has happened that you want to bring contention into the affair? You know the passages, and you know their meaning: He who murders shall not live in the King's Manor - and he who murders himself is no different. Do not put the people through another controversy!' The former controversy that he referred to was no doubt that which ended with the exile of Teacher Abbon.'

'Teacher Abbon sought no controversy,' Nihls said, speaking boldly despite his ordinary demeanor. If ever there was a time for harsh words, it was now, when these dull-minded followers of Sazo sought to shame Giretta even in the grave. 'He was a man of quiet and peaceful thought. He loved all things and in loving them he loved the King; and in loving the King he loved all things. You drove him away only because you were, to a man, too stupid to understand the truth in what he spoke. And not understanding the truth you make it clear that it is you and your ilk that will not dwell in the King's Manor - who DO not dwell therein!' he added this in the end to show that he referred to Abbon's doctrine that men do not enter the King's Manor at death, but rather, live there even as they walk in this world.

There was a gasp and the chortling old man attempted to shout at Nihls, but Nihls raised his voice again, and said, 'Will you make the Eternal King into a moody child, whose whims fly this way and that at every turn? Shall he love Giretta for all the years she loved him and then deny her when, in the sorrows of life, she forgets him for but a moment? Tell me, old man,' Nihls said, forgetting all titles of honor and respect, 'does the King, who cannot change, change when we learn of him? Does his wrath depart from him, or does it depart from us when we place ourselves in his hand? In turning from the darkness to the light does he become light, or do we alter, seeing at last that which he always was, is now and ever shall be? If Giretta ever knew the King - and I dare you to contradict me in this before the whole assembly - then he has her in his hand, even if she, with respect to her final sorrows, did not see him. What man among us does not in his last hours forget their own wives, the faces of their own children, their own doctrines and their own names? I do not go against the Scriptures, Urlon, but you twist them to say what Theodysus would never have countenanced.

'You cannot deny her a right burial with her own people, old man. Not without making yourself a liar and a devil. You say she cannot enter into the King's Manor in that far off day and hour - but she is there already, and has ever been there, and cannot ever leave it.'

When the old man just stood there spluttering as he sought the words to respond, Nihls pushed him aside and took a shovel from the wall, making his way to the burial grounds of the Blest. Amarin joined him, and Garam also, and soon they had dug a new grave and prepared the ground for her burial.

That night she was laid to rest attended by every man among the Enthedu and by many others from among the Blest. The Wisemen of the Blest refused to approach, and counseled how they might send Nihls from their presence, as though he was not already longing to be sundered from them. 'He has become too much like his troublesome teacher,' they said to one another.

Another Parting

Nihls kept his eyes open and his ears perked for the next several days. There was some discussion about whether or not the Enthedu should return to the south, or whether they should winter among the Blest - or merge their destinies entirely.

Meidi made many sound arguments in favor of remaining, but insisted at the last that she herself had no intention of staying in Anatheda. Noro sought her company often in those days, which raised many eyebrows among the Enthedu. But Meidi retreated to her own apartments, and accepted visits only from Ebbe and a few other women from Thedval.

This Nihls saw as unseemly for Noro, but he could not voice a rebuke for mere visits - especially when the visits were attempts only. Whatever obligation Meidi had acquired in having been rescued by Nihls was treated by her like the symptoms of a disease, and she utterly refused any help from him. He had grown accustomed to this, and only offered his aid indirectly, and for the most part without her ever realizing it had been him who was her benefactor. He had insisted that she owed him nothing, and that it was his own obligations as a bearer of the teachings of Theodysus to aid her as though she were a member of his own person, but this did very little to assuage her shame at being dependent upon him.

He kept a close watch, therefore, upon Noro's attentions, but he could not do anything directly without risking her wrath as well as Noro's. It was unseemly in appearance that Noro should seek her company so soon after his wife's passing. But so long as it was appearance only that was unseemly, Nihls could do nothing.

Noro saw very little of Ilnoron in those days, and he seemed to occupy himself chiefly with hunting during the day and drinking himself into a stupor during the night. This also Nihls noted, and took to visiting Amarin and Ebbe to see to the child's welfare.

When Noro was pressed about this he just said, 'I cannot look at the child,' which many took to mean that his sorrow for his wife was too great. But he did not sound sorrowful to Nihls' ears. He sounded wrathful and angry, as if the child were the last link in the chain the drunk Garam had bound him with. He indicated at least as much in the worst of his throes of drunkenness that followed Giretta's death. Most of those who thought something of Noro believed that it was the wine that spoke at those times, but Nihls felt that, at least to some degree, wine only removed that which otherwise hindered a man's tongue from speaking his true sentiments.

It had been three weeks since the death of Giretta when at last Nihls decided that he at least could no longer stay in Anatheda. Many Enthedu decided to remain, and to take up life among the Blest. Some among the Blest, however, decided to cast their lot with Nihls, and so his company was changed, but neither diminished nor increased. Amarin said that he would have left, but Ebbe was now caring for Ilnoron, and they could neither leave him nor carry him away from his father.

With great reluctance Nihls parted from the boy and from his old friend. The promise he had made to Giretta, however, burned deep within his heart.
[Chapter VII:  
Noro the Hero](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Proposal

A month had passed since the Enthedu departed from Anatheda. They had made their way quickly into the south, paying what tribute they were compelled to pay, and trading what goods they could among the people of Alwan. They came at last to the shores of the Great Lake, where Nihls once again visited the tomb of his old teacher. There they settled for a time, and continued to grow and to increase in number. Meidi took ill shortly after they left Anatheda, however, and Nihls would have returned had she not so strongly objected to the very thought. 'I cannot return there,' she said, sounding for all he could tell as though she meant that she could not ever go back.

They made their way south along gentle roads, stopping whenever Nihls felt it was necessary, once coming within sight of the palace of Alwan itself. Nihls avoided the city, however, and they passed across the enormous farmland that stretched out between Lord Pelas' city and the lake. They traded skins and bone-carved tools from Anatheda for grain and preserved fruit, both of which would sell well enough in the south. Nihls insisted that they always deal fairly, however, and so they were not as profitable as they might have been. 'An economy, if it be meant for mutual advantage, should see to the needs of its members, and not to the enrichment of only a portion. That is avarice, not business.'

It was a cold and snowy evening when Nihls finally puzzled out the cause of Meidi's illness - and her great misery. She had been glad to travel to Anatheda, and spoke happily of what they would find when they were reunited with their brethren. But departing she seemed to have the cheer of a ghost, and the joy of a serpent. She looked at the palace of Pelas with indifference, whereas every other man and woman among them was awed if not terrified. She seemed interested in nothing and impatient whenever someone insisted upon having her attention for more than a moment. She had grown strangely polite, also, which Nihls could not, in her case, take to be a sign of good health. If she were asked something that might ordinarily have angered her she would just reply, curtly but kindly, 'Yes, yes, that is fine,' as if she were more concerned with ending the conversation than with whatever she was being asked. He did not, therefore, learn anything about her sickness from her own mouth. No one was foolish enough to gossip openly in his presence - that was one thing for which he had as little tolerance as his old teacher. But at times the rumors became so large and so dreadful that he could no longer ignore them. A few queries quickly provided him with the answers he needed.

He woke early the next morning to find the windows of his small cabin frosted over and several inches of snow on the ground outside. He quickly donned his clothing and lit a fire, hoping to drive some of the chill from his bones. He ate a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, washing it down with a hot cup of tea. He hesitated for a moment before belting on his sword. He could not decide whether it would help or hinder him today. He wrapped a thick woolen cloak around his shoulders and pushed open the door, struggling to push the snow out of the way.

It was not a long walk to Meidi's cabin, which she shared with a young Alwan woman named Irlina. It lay straight over the highest hill, just beyond a small copse of trees in the midst of a small wood. He made his way there now, the bright white snow crunching softly beneath his boots.

The sun rose warm in the sky, promising a quick melting for the snow. He hoped that Ilnoron would find a chance to enjoy it while it remained. But he took little joy in the thought - his present mission would be hard, and he had to struggle to keep his feet moving. Stopping, or turning back, would not be acceptable however. What he must do, he must do at once, and it would not be any easier if he waited.

He passed Irlina in the woods, and by her dark and uneasy expression he guessed that she had been apprised of the gossip. She nodded, looking back toward the cabin as though she considered returning to it. But she lifted her chin and passed him by with a curt nod.

He came to the oak door and stood for a moment staring at the grains, and wishing he had nothing more to do with his life than study such tiny details. One could lose themselves in the bark of a tree or in the veins of a leaf if they had the luxury. But so much of life was occupied with the struggle to live and to care for others that such things seemed wholly unimportant. Teacher Abbon had not thought so, but then, he had lived in a different time - not an entirely distant time, but one so different from the present that Nihls could scarcely believe the one had passed into the other.

He knocked gently, twice rapping his knuckles on the door. There was no answer at first, but before he thought to knock again he heard the lock move out of its place. The door, however, did not open, and he heard a soft thud as Meidi returned to sit near a small round table within. He pushed the door open slowly and, kicking the snow from his boots, stepped inside. The room was well kept, though he suspected this was mainly the work of Irlina, who had once been a maid in Alwan. Meidi's skin was pale and the fire on the hearth had died down.

Before doing anything Nihls stepped over and put a log onto the fire, carefully moving the smoldering logs until a strong flame sprang up.

He walked over to the front window and looked out at the walk; there were only two sets of prints in the snow, Irlina's leaving and his own arriving. He rested his hands on the window sill for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. He turned to Meidi and and then asked, 'May I sit with you for a while?'

She nodded, her eyes not moving toward him. There was only one reason he could be here, she reasoned. He must have discovered what she had tried to conceal - but such things cannot be concealed forever. She had not given Teacher Abbon's teachings nearly as much thought as even Noro or Giretta, or Amarin for that matter, and all that she really knew of him was the noble and honorable life he led. This made her uneasy in the presence of his pupil, though her own opinion of Nihls had long been sullied by her misapprehensions.

Nihls slid a chair out on the opposite side of the table and sat down, keeping his shoulders straight and his hands steady. This was not easy, given the difficult task he had set before him. 'Meidi,' he began. 'I love you.'

Her eyes darted up to meet his face and a look of horror passed over her face. For a moment her gaze passed over him and searched the room as if she expected to discover a crowd of people ready to watch this cruel jest. Nihls could not lover her, she thought sourly, and she did not want him to love her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she could find no words.

Nihls spoke again, 'I cannot say that I love you as Noro does, or as many others love those they call beloved. But I will care for you; I will let nothing harm you. I will help you through every trial and in every way that I can. I will lay my life down for yours, and,' he hesitated for a moment, 'and for the life of your child.'

Tears streamed down her face when she realized that he knew what had happened in Anatheda.

'I offer you my hand,' he said after a pause, 'and everything that I am and possess. You do not have to love me, or so much as share a meal with me if you wish. I know that you have not thought highly of me, and I do not think that I deserve to be thought of. But if I can help you in any way, I will do whatever can be done. You know the ways of our people, and the things that they are beginning to say.'

She looked at his eyes for a moment and said, 'If we were to,' she struggled, unable to say the word, 'wed.' 'The people would think you were a scoundrel and a brute to have -' she could not even finish the words.

'Many think that already,' Nihls said. 'But they also think little of you, and they would think less if they...' he trailed off, realizing that what he was about to say might be hurtful.

'They would think the truth, Nihls,' she said. 'Will you then hide the truth from them?'

'It was the Eternal King himself,' Nihls said, 'who made bugs to look like leaves, and snakes to look like roots, and who made the fox turn white in the winter snow. I will not lie to any man. But there is no need for anyone to think poorly of you.' He hesitated for a moment before continuing. He understood so little of women that he was afraid to pretend that he understood Meidi's motivations of all things. 'If you did not regret what happened, you would not have left Anatheda.'

Meidi cupped her hand over her mouth and wept.

'Meidi,' Nihls began, leaning toward her and extending his hand across the small table, not quite enough to touch her, but enough to show his sympathies. 'The love that I offer you, you cannot refuse, whether you refuse my hand or not. Any man can be a lover, so long as his beloved longs for his presence. But my love is the same love that I have always borne for you. It does not wax or wane with my mood or with age, and it changes not whether you hate me or whether you love me. I will be at your side, and do whatever I must to ensure your safety and peace. I will go, also,' he said sternly. 'If you wish it, my love will take me away from you - forever even, if you wish. Send me away or call me to your side; my love will remain the same, ever devoted to the good. I cannot see within your soul, however, so tell me what you wish of me, and I will do it or see it done. If my presence troubles you, just say the word and I will be gone, for I would rather you be at ease without me than be troubled.'

'It is not your duty,' she said, 'to guard my honor, Nihls,' Meidi said, her voice for the first time saying his name without any hint of disdain. 'You have not wronged me; it would not be right for me to let you destroy yourself for my sake. You have led the Enthedu well,' she conceded, though Nihls was pretty sure she would still have some criticisms for his trading methods. 'But they will not let you lead if they think you have behaved inappropriately.'

'I will have lost nothing if men who think too much of me come to think less,' he answered. 'And I can no more pretend that I am innocent in this than we can pretend that there could be a Spring without a Winter, or a half-eclipse without the whole orb of the sun. No man acts alone, Meidi, and we must, like our master Theodysus, make ourselves everything and nothing. The Essenes said, "Unless a man becomes his own father, he shall not know the Mountain of Life." We must take responsibility for everything; for we are, in the Hidden Name, of one substance.'

'I think I would have liked to hear more of your Teacher Abbon's words,' she said gently. But then her face became stern and somber. 'I do not love you Nihls,' she said, forcing the words from her mouth, struggling not to cry.

'If you did not,' he replied, 'then it would not pain you to say that. Wish well of me, and wish well for me, and you will love me more deeply than ever a lover did for his beloved. Any man can love a woman, the lover is merely lucky enough to have found one for whom his love is, at the first at least, easy. Time, however, strips him of the enthusiasm, and he finds that all he ever truly had was enthusiasm, and never truly love.'

She had only a few moments to think about what he had said when he rose from his chair to meddle with the fire once again. 'I will see to it that someone brings you more wood. Think on what I have said, and do with me as you wish.'

'Nihls,' she said, turning to look him in the eyes. She seemed to be alive again, and filled with renewed strength, though there was still no joy in her face. 'Do not waste yourself on me. I know that Giretta was the one you loved and longed after.'

'That love was blind,' Nihls said. 'It longed after that which was not and could not have been. All such longing is painful, but it is no more possible for its strength. I will not let that wound prevent me from doing what I can and what I ought. I am not after what might have been, or what could yet be. I commemorate only what was, choose only what is, and strive only for what will be. We are,' he meant the Enthedu as a whole, 'lovers of truth. If I spend my life seeking what cannot be or regretting what could not have been, it will be a greater loss than a reality that, to my frail judgment, is less than what I would have preferred.'

Nihls hesitated for a moment and then, after shutting his eyes he said softly, 'Meidi, if I had wanted Giretta, then it was only my blindness of the future that permitted me to seek her hand. If you will have me, then you will be my true love, for I will devote myself wholly to you and to you only.'

'You will not be happy with me Nihls,' she said without any guile.

'He who marries for happiness marries for himself,' Nihls said. 'And he might as well marry himself. But I would marry you for you; but no man can promise a woman happiness. What I can provide, however, I lay at your feet.'

She knew already that he would treat her child as if it were his own; she could not doubt his faithfulness. She rose from her seat and approached him, her face as cold and pale as the snowy ground outside. She put her hand upon his cheek and kissed the side of his face. 'I will marry you then,' she said before returning to her chair. 'You are too stubborn and noble to turn away anyhow,' she said with a wry smile. 'I learned all about what happened at the bathing pools from Ebbe, while yet we were in Anatheda,' she said, unable to meet his gaze as her cheeks reddened. 'You are the same child, Nihls. You are the very same foolish, but noble child. I think your parents would have been proud.' Her eyes became downcast for a moment as she thought on her own father, and how her ancestor was the Blest Candorian himself. What would he have thought of her, she thought bitterly.

As if he sensed her dark thoughts Nihls said, 'The child does not arise from his parents by chance or by magic, Meidi, but is the passing of the parents into a new form. When a parent's eyes shut in death they open in life, living again in the eyes of their children. Whatever becomes of us, then, they at the very least understand, and understanding they cannot despise us. Even if they despised us in life, they would come to know us in death, and knowing us they would forgive - they do forgive.'

'And wise words do not arise by magic either,' Meidi said, looking at Nihls as he stood by the fire. 'They are the very thoughts of one person as they enter into and form the thoughts of another. Your teacher would be proud of you, Nihls - he IS proud of you.'

Nihls was startled by his own reaction to her words. His chest heaved with emotion and tears dripped unbidden from his cheeks. 'You honor me more than I deserve, Meidi,' he said, bowing low.

They looked at one another considerately for a while, before Nihls finally said, 'I will leave you now, and I will make the arrangements as soon as possible. You know how people are in such matters.'

'Good day, Nihls,' she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

To Nihls she seemed from that hour to regain somewhat of the life she had despaired of since the fall of Thedval.

The Blest

Under Noro's leadership the Blest came to dominate the lands bordering the western marches of Alwan. These lands had been abandoned in the ancient days as Lord Parganas attempted to hide the truth of what had been destroyed upon Mount Vitiai. Entire cities where the old Immortals had dwelt and flourished were left to rot and vanish while the elves built their kingdom in the east. After all the horrors of that ancient war there was very little of value to be found there. But the ages that had passed since then brought an abundance of rich soil and good hunting to the region, and Noro's people prospered there. The abundance they brought to market at first drew others who were eager for wealth and perhaps a new start at life. These were readily welcomed into their villages and towns, so long as they adopted to one degree or another the teachings of the Wisemen. There is very little that men will not accept, or simply pretend to accept, for the sake of security. Their wealth in time attracted the taxmen of Lord Pelas, and, after these were sent empty handed back to Alwan, their ideas attracted the Doctrai.

This led to conflict, but the Blest were not wholly unprepared. They were armed and trained warriors, though perhaps untested. They drove back several attempts by Lord Pelas' men to lay hold of Anatheda and its surrounding villages. A fortified encampment was constructed, and soon the whole region was set against Pelas and his power.

Noro spoke boldly to his followers, saying, 'Thus far may a devil go, but no further. There is a time, brethren, a time when a man has been robbed of so much that no more can be taken. Lord Pelas was given the dominion, but he has misused it and abused his people, taking from them that which belongs to them by right. He shall not trample the people of Theodysus the ruler of stars forever. It was said of old that we would bring light to Bel Albor, and truth. Pelas has set himself against the Eternal King. And we shall not let his challenge rise to the heavens unanswered. There is a time, brethren, when abuse becomes too great for a man of honor to ignore.'

With many such speeches to many people in many places Noro rallied the whole region, including some of the border villages of Alwan, under his banner.

There was a war, and many among the Blest perished. But many more among the warriors of Alwan were slain as they attempted to fight on grounds that were unknown to them against men who fought for their homes and farms, and not at the behest of a tyrant. Noro's success fueled his own sense of rightness, and soon songs were being sung throughout the region in praise of the Blest of God, who would bring an end to Lord Pelas' reign and in praise of Noro and the spear he wielded. Soon the name of Noro the Hero began to be echoed throughout Alwan, some speaking the name in fear and others in deference.

Word came to Sunlan, and Agonas redoubled his efforts to push his brother back across the Thedul River, seeing that Pelas was now pressed from both sides.

Noro himself performed many daring feats and had many great successes on the battlefield, both as a warrior and as a leader. His men lay in ambush against a force sent by Maru, and he very nearly captured the high elf before they were rescued by Marruvis, the third son of Falruvis. In a battle that took place just fifty leagues north of the Great Lake, Noro slew two dozen men alone before Athar and his guards could reach and rescue him. The Blest were driven back that day, but the elves sang no songs of victory - their losses were humiliating.

After several villages of the Blest were put to the fire, Noro led his armies into Alwan itself, and captured the city of Norul, which stood about half way between Anatheda and Albori. He burned the entire city with fire, laying its buildings low and driving its people into the wilderness. As it is with all wars, so it was also for Noro the hero - among the dead lay women and children.

'Peace,' Noro told his followers, 'is what we have been called to. But peace comes by victory, and not in defeat or surrender. We are men of peace; followers of Theodysus. But is it following his way to abandon mankind to the whims of a madman forever? Or is it not just to wage this war against his evils? If men die by the wayside, their blood also lies upon the head of Pelas, whose malice has required this war from us!'

In the end Pelas was forced to form a truce with Noro's people, sending Sol and Falruvis to negotiate. In this way he was able to retain his forces to hold back Agonas' advances into what once was the kingdom of Ilvas. The terms of this truce named Noro the 'Marshall of West Alwan,' granting him authority from his present borders to the sea in the west. But it was implicit in the 'alliance' that should he so much as dream about crossing into Alwan proper he would face the whole might of the high elves.

News of this came in time to the Enthedu who dwelt near the Great Lake in the south. Some departed at once, thinking that, at last, the people of Theodysus had won their security and safety. Most of them, however, were fearful. Those who had enough sense understood that, while Pelas might be content to treat with Noro now, he would not tolerate a rival forever, nor could any rival hope to outlast his slow-burning immortal wrath.

Talebearers

Among those who departed from the Enthedu to dwell again among the Blest were some who spoke ill of Nihls and of Meidi. The truce Noro had achieved with Lord Pelas was, to their minds, proof enough that the Eternal King was not so averse to warfare that he would not grant success to a good hearted man like Noro. The hardships they had endured with Nihls made them bitter, and they found that hard words against the Enthedu more quickly endeared them to Noro and his captains than any other signs of loyalty or trust.

Some of these slandered Nihls by reporting to the Blest in Anatheda the times and dates of the proposal, the marriage and finally the birth of Meidi's child. The report spread throughout the west, and of how Nihls was stripped of his command over the Enthedu (in truth he surrendered it quite willingly to another) as a result of his abuses.

The news came to Noro's ears and it was said that when he had made the necessary calculations his face grew as dark as death. He thrust his spear into the ground and declared publicly his enmity with Nihls. No man dared ask a reason from him, and so long forgotten were the ways of the Enthedu that no man so much as questioned his right to speak in such a manner of one who would have been considered his brother in the days of Thedval.

To his hired warriors, and to Athar in particular, Noro ordered that Nihls be slain if he ever again entered their dominion. He refused to believe that Meidi would have chosen to marry Nihls rather than to seek his protection - for he was the better protector. He had a scroll in his bedchamber with the seal of Lord Pelas that said as much. To his mind Nihls was no better than a kidnapper, and all manner of dark and suspicious thoughts began to enter his mind. 'If he wishes to raise up my own heir to overthrow me,' Noro said madly to Athar, 'then he will learn his mistake by the end.'

Athar had no love for the ways of the Enthedu; he had known only the ways of the Blest. He nodded agreement and counseled Noro as to how he might destroy this danger to him and his people.
[Chapter VIII:  
The Kingdom To Be](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Decay of Bel Albor

Visions of things past and nightmares of things to come plagued both Agonas and Pelas every night and every day. In the wake of their ambitions the number of those slain and maimed rose to be more than any man could with a clean conscience recount. The record keepers became drinkers or hung themselves from the rafters of their studies, and no man took up the task in their absence.

Rebellions sprouted up in every region and province, but the might of the high elves proved too great for any mortal lord to challenge. The men who dwelt in the Nook of the Talon Mountains poured out into the south against Sunlan in might, but they were pushed back by Gheshtick, who led an army of fifty thousand men against them, burning their country until it was uninhabitable. Zefru's assassinations continued, or so it was said \- no man or elf ever was able to prove that Zefru had done aught but that which was honorable and forthright.

Rebels arose in Lushlin, some seeking to make Bralohi and Kolohi their lords, and to march against Alwan and Sunlan both. Bralohi was quick to quell these voices, taking advantage of his own knowledge of the swamplands to rout them.

Goblins swarmed back into the land of Ilvas, tearing the old fortress apart and leaving little beside the foundations of that once mighty kingdom to evidence its place in the history of Bel Albor. Daruvis the son of Falruvis, however, acquired the armory of Amro the Smith, which had lain hidden in Ilvas until its destruction by the goblins. He found and preserved a great many of those famed dwarf-steel, elf-wrought blades, which time would prove to be sharp enough to wound even the spirits of the next world. He told no one of this, however, except for his father and brothers. And he told only his father of the means by which he acquired them.

The city of Inklas, where the sons of Parganas last saw one another as friends, grew prosperous and strong, sending ship after ship into the north to trade with the troubled lands of Bel Albor. The Golden Palace of Sunlan was emptied as gold was sent away to purchase arms and supplies. Seeing so much wealth pass into the south, the people of Sunlan began to pass thereafter, leaving the northern kingdoms behind forever, and carrying with them the legends and tales of the Old World and the Far North - stories that prepared their descendants for the coming of the elves many generations later.

Entire villages left the shores of Sunlan, and many even departed into the west, beyond Mount Vitiai, though none can say for certain what became of these - it is said by some in Lapulia that the Knariss passed through Anatheda, and there learned at the very least to revere the star of Theodysus before leaving Bel Albor's mysterious western shores. These are said to have come to dwell in Titalo along the northern coast of Weldera - but who can say for certain what became of them? Now that the records of the Nihlion are being opened before the world there are many who are scrambling to lay claim to this or that ancient tribe, as if proving that their ancestors descended from Bel Albor would render them more noble than they were without that pedigree.

Pelas could tell no more than his brother the nature of the strange visions that tormented them. They found themselves facing one another on opposite sides of the Esse River. They could make out one another's features clearly, though nearly a league separated them in the place where they stood. A figure appeared, a man clothed and garbed in a brown robe with a rope belt.

In a moment the river seemed to freeze and they stood side by side facing him. The man grew in stature, wings rising from his back and flames bursting from his nostrils as his neck sprouted up like a serpent, revealing beneath the plain robes the form of a mighty dragon.

So troubled were they by these visions that their halls became as silent and somber as the grave.

It is hard to know how to receive the reports that have come to us from the Far North and from the Old World. On the one hand the result of the devastation that befell Bel Albor represented a veritable ending of a world. And there is no reason that such an ending should not be accompanied by visions and terrors and tremors of soul and spirit that exceed what mankind in general ordinarily encounters. On the other hand it is difficult to know how much is mere fancy, how much is truth and how much is allegory - and how much is some combination of the three. The one thing that is certain is that the people who fled the Far North in those days fled as if they were pursued by the great Dragon himself \- indeed the greater part of them reported dragons to be the reason their old lands were abandoned.

Many also reported visions of strange and mysterious creatures, the chief of which were the Sirens. It was said that in those days a Siren appeared in every village, speaking words that were, to their ears, nonsense, but which filled them with a sense of dread and foreboding strong enough to drive them from the homes of their ancestors, across the cold sea to lands where they were not known and not welcome. Beautiful women, each clothed with white so brilliant that the sun seemed to become a dim ember beside them, and with skin as clear as glass, appeared in the northern kingdoms, warning of great calamity with mysterious songs and poems. Some said that the stars themselves descended to give warning, and to drive men from the north. Our own learned men have long maintained that the Sirens were invented by men of later ages in order to make it out that the gods had given the people of the North due warning before burying their land in ice and water. In this way the destruction of Bel Albor would not seem so utterly cruel and unjust, and neither would their gods. But whether there were Sirens to warn them or not, men fled the North in those days. Let it be whatsoever you must believe it to be - something drove men by the thousands out of Bel Albor.

The Dragons appeared first in the Talon Mountains, and they were thought to be the spawn of the Fire Bird, or to have been lizards who hadgorged themselves upon its carcass and over time become beasts of monstrous proportions. The outposts of Sunlan were attacked first, and nothing was left of them when the dragons descended upon them. Fire and storm rent stones from foundations and men and elves flew through the air as if they were leaves in a hurricane. Mighty men marched forth to challenge the dragons, but there arose among the people of Sunlan no heroes and no victors.

The borderlands of Alwan fared little better when dragons began to enter their own lands, passing first through the valley of Thedval and then into Ilvas near the root of the Esse River. Their progress, though unstoppable and sure, was slow, and the elves therefore allowed themselves to believe that it meant something other than the end of all they had built in the North.

Almost as soon as the reports of these monsters grew cold, Pelas and his brother renewed their plots and strategies.

Weakness

Nihls struggled to raise himself from the ground. His side burned with pain and he clutched a strip of cloth tightly to his bleeding side. His cheek was so swollen that he could see it quite easily through his left eye. His right eye was so swollen that he could not even open it.

'Nihls!' a voice came from behind him. He turned to see Meidi coming toward him, holding a weeping baby in her arms.

'Stay, Meidi!' Nihls called out to her, 'is it safe?'

'I am safe,' she said as she approached, her voice torn between anger and compassion.

'What did they take?' Nihls asked, limping toward her with difficulty.

'Oh, husband,' she said when she reached him, brushing his bloodied hair from his face. Through his swollen face her worried eyes looked like they were far away. 'Why will you not fight? You saved me, and you have since saved many lives. Why will you not fight?'

His breath left him and he grew silent, slumping down to rest upon a rock. 'I can't,' he said. 'I will give my life for you or for any other, Meidi.' His lips curled into a frown. 'But I cannot kill them, Meidi. I don't know why, but I can't.'

This was far from the first time he had been abused in this way while fending off brigands or theives. He fought bravely, but he refused to take another man's life, whatever the reason. 'When I see them, even as they gaze upon me with murderous hatred or cold disdain, I see only my own eyes gazing out through their faces. When I wonder if they will kill me, or if they will take all that I own, I wonder also what sorrows have driven them to act the animal. When I consider slaying,' he swallowed, 'I can hear the sound of their women weeping over them.'

Meidi sat beside him and put her child on the ground, tearing a strip from her dress to tend his wounds. With a start the babe stopped crying and looked around in amazement, suddenly taking interest in tearing at the grass. Meidi sighed, and Nihls thought the greater part of her anger left her. 'You need a trick Nihls,' she said, her lips revealing the smallest hint of a smile.

'A trick?' Nihls asked, grimacing as she dabbed the blood from his face.

'Yes,' she said. 'Just as you have taught men to lie, so also must you teach yourself to kill.'

'I don't know that such a thing is possible,' he said with a chuckle quickly to be regretted. He clutched his side and shut his eyes as the pain came over him in a wave.

'What do you know of the possible?' Meidi said sternly. 'Are you in communion with the Dragon himself? To know what is not?'

Nihls sniffed, and was comforted also, for she was slowly coming to understand him, and to understand him well enough to contradict him with his own ideas - or with old Abbon's ideas, more properly speaking.

'It is not a lie,' she continued, 'to tell a man that you are telling him something, even if that something is false; for you are not telling him that something, which is false; you are telling him only that you are telling it to him, which is true. That is what you taught us, Nihls, and we will never forget such a useful truth.'

Nihls grunted, both with pain and with frustration. This was not the first time that he regretted ever sharing this nonsense with his friends. In truth the whole thing had originated because of a disagreement between he and Noro over the evil of lying.

'You cannot be held responsible for every death, Nihls,' Meidi continued. 'The dried meat we lost to those bandits this very day, for instance, might be tainted with a plague or sickness - is it then murder for us to have lost them in this way? If the men who stole them eat and perish?' She sounded, to Nihls' frustration, as though she wanted that very much to be the case.

'That would not be our doing,' Nihls protested.

'Is it not?' she said with mock amazement. 'We prepared the food, we preserved it - if it has gone bad, is that not our doing? Are we not the causes, then, of their deaths?'

'Yes,' he began, but Meidi continued right on talking.

'Whether we wished them to die or no, we are the cause of their death. But yet we are blameless for it. Or if we dug a trench,' she said, shifting her thoughts, 'to protect our home, and a man perished attempting to leap over it, would his blood then be on our hands?'

'No, it would be his own folly,' Nihls replied. He made as if to go on, but Meidi's glare silenced him.

'You must make yourself fatal, Nihls. Not fatal like a warrior,' she looked tenderly at his swollen face. 'I know that your heart could never be a warrior's heart. Make yourself fatal like that trench. Weild your blade, not to kill, but so that a man might fall upon it. Speak to your foes; warn them, tell them that your sword is perilous - and if they do not believe you, then they have died for their own ignorance, and not by any device of yours alone.'

There was some sense in what she was saying, Nihls realized. But there was no trick of thought that could take from him the sense that the men he might slay - or cause to be slain - were in a very real sense men just like him, though raised up in darkness. He did not realize how much the thought had upset him until he saw the sadness in Meidi's eyes as she watched him struggle with the idea.

'I will do anything for you, Meidi,' he said. 'I would die for you a thousand times, and suffer a thousand wounds.' His chest rose and fell as he struggled.

Meidi put her finger on his cheek, 'Think no more of it for now, husband,' she said soothingly.

This was far from the first time that Nihls had such ill fortune. As the whole frame of Bel Albor shook with the tremors and pangs that accompanied the fall of Ilvas and the coming of the Dragons, the number of those who made their fortunes preying upon the weak seemed to double. Whole tribes seemed to spring up, raiding and pillaging wherever the forces of Alwan were too few to prevent them. Many of the Enthedu had even been slain by these. Some insisted that they leave their wandering lives and cast their lot with the Blest once more. But Nihls would not return to Noro, and those who were yet loyal to the pupil of Abbon remained. The chief among these was Teacher Eren and his wife. Eren had more or less taken charge of the Enthedu after Nihls' marriage, but he sought counsel from the younger man constantly. Eren was a wise man, but he was not possessed of a great deal of confidence. Men therefore overlooked his wisdom and saw only the weakness of personality; and they took advantage accordingly.

But no matter how many men left them, and how many harsh words were directed at Nihls, the young man would not budge from what he had been taught. And the more men argued the more convinced he seemed to grow.

Strength

Noro, on the other hand, grew stronger by the day it seemed. There was nothing Pelas could do to prevent those who lived on the border of the kingdom from passing over into the lands of the Blest. This problem became all the more pronounced when he made his treaty with the lord of Anatheda, since those who passed over into his lands could defend themselves with the claim that they were not leaving Alwan after all., but only seeking opportunity in another region.

When Falruvis and his sons reported a decrease in their forces as a result of those young men who took their families into the west, Pelas very nearly spat he was so furious. His face turned crimson, but he retained his composure. He was the Immortal King of Alwan, and time would always be on his side. He set his anger to simmer and called upon the people of Alwan to fight for him in his eternal war against Agonas.

He called upon all the people, and so for the first time a portion of the followers of Theodysus were compelled to fight in the wars of Lord Pelas. They were assured, however, that since they fought for the preservation of Alwan, they also therefore fought for the preservation of the Blest who dwelt therein, and so for the Eternal King himself.

When these warriors, fighting as if their lives were nothing in comparison to the glory of their cause, made a name for themselves on the battlefield, Pelas' anger grew still hotter. For he, by trying to draw the Blest fully into the kingdom had only made the name of Noro more famous.

Noro himself led them, and he gathered under his banners men by the thousands, until he had ammassed one of the greatest mortal armies that had ever marched in Bel Albor. All of this he did in the name of Lord Pelas.

But as his reputation grew, so also did Lord Pelas' unease at his success and popularity. He sent order after order, demanding more and more of the army of the Blest, until the people could no longer prudently believe that he wanted anything other than their destruction. 'Secure the banks of the Esse River,' he demanded in the spring, and then in the summer he wanted them to, 'gain a foothold in north Sunlan itself.'

But Noro had grown to be as cunning as any other lord in Bel Albor. On the last day of summer he sent emmissaries to Sunlan, suing for an alliance with the Golden Palace and its lord.

Gheshtick was sent to him and under a clouded sky the noble elf spoke to him in the open air, the two of them riding side by side along the shores of the Great Lake.

'Rain is coming,' Gheshtick said with his eyes raised toward the heavens.'

'Rain and flood,' Noro said with a nod.

'What quarrel have you with your master Pelas?' Gheshtick said, passing quickly from formalities and slowly bringing his horse to a halt. His eyes were full of understanding, and when he looked at Noro the lord of the Blest felt as though he were an apple being turned over in the market place, weighed and considered by prudent hands.

'He has murdered,' Noro answered sharply.

'All warriors murder,' Gheshtick said. 'But what do they murder for? That is all that we care to know.'

'Lord Agonas woud make Bel Albor glorious; Lord Pelas wishes to keep all such glory for himself.'

'How do you know what my master wishes for Bel Albor?' Gheshtick asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at Noro.

'I can only say as I have been informed,' Noro answered. 'But you are his emmissary - I hope you can assure me that my suspicions are correct.'

'Lord Agonas is not like his brother,' Gheshtick said honestly. 'That much I can say at least. He does not seek his own glory; at least not as Lord Pelas does, at the expense of all other men. Is that sufficient enough reason for your betrayal?'

'Betrayal?' Noro answered defensively.

'In the halls of a king there are many who murmer and complain,' Gheshtick said, 'but woe to those who do not take care to whom they complain! If a man will come to you privately and whisper a secret against another man, they will whisper a secret against you as well. It is the nature of a betrayer to betray; who then will you betray next?'

Noro was startled by the elf's questions at first, but he soon regained his composure, his certainty in himself overcoming his doubtfulness. 'I have only ever been for the good; and if I serve a man one day and then turn against him the next, it is only for the good. He whose heart is pure has nothing to fear from my zeal.'

Gheshtick nodded, realizing the only way to oppose Noro's reasoning would be to say that Agonas was not, after all, striving for what was good. To himself he was quite ready to admit this. He said, however, 'Then it would seem that you and your Blest have very little to fear from Lord Agonas.' His tone seemed to indicate, however, that there might be some in Sunlan they should fear.

Noro was quick to understand that he meant Lord Morta and what now remained of his godhunters. At the thought of these he smiled; for only the Enthedu knew who had broken the ancient strength of Xanthur's men. It seemed to utterly pass out of Noro's thoughts, though, that he who broke them was a Lapulian Black Adder - a man not yet a follower of Theodysus.

'We fear nothing of this world,' Noro assured him. His confidence impressed Gheshtick.

The elf nodded approvingly and asked, 'Will you serve Agonas faithfully? Do you now swear fealty to him and his golden throne? He has been betrayed too many times to accept anything less.'

'For all to hear I tell you that I swear my life and people to his service - only let us avenge Lord Pelas for his wrongs!'

In two months' time, however, when Agonas and his armies had crossed the Esse River and with the aid Noro's spear and the might of the Blest pushed Pelas once more from the old lands of Ilvas, Noro turned against his new master and the falseness of his oath was made manifest for all to see.

The army of Gheshtick marched through Lushlin, driving the sons of Lohi from that land, and the army of Agonas himself marched northward toward Thedua. But Noro gathered a great host from amongst the discontented mortals of Alwan and Ilvas, from among the Lupith, the Knariss and especially among the Essenes and attacked Agonas and Gheshtick from the east, pinning them between the forces of Pelas and the Blest. Bralohi and Kolohi took this to mean that his defection had been false, and in fact he was loyal after all to their master. They pushed hard at Agonas, and many lords of Sunlan fell in the battles that followed.

As the forces of Pelas pushed eastward, eager to make a slaughter and perhaps even to capture the dark rebel Agonas himself, a great host marched against them from the west, where the remainder of the army of Anatheda had lain waiting for Noro's command.

Heads swirled in confusion; shields shattered and mighty men fell in heaps, weeping for the terrors that fell upon them. Noro charged about the battlefield that day, with Athar ever at his side, piercing and slaying elves and men with the spear he now named Cataclysmos, a name that has only been preserved for us in the most fanciful of legends.

Shortly following this battle Noro marched forward and lay seige to the Palace of Alwan itself, wherein Pelas now tore his hair in anger and amazement. Agonas, however, was driven into hiding in the wilds of Lushlin with naught but a band of elves as a guard, and the high elves of Sunlan and Alwan alike were scattered. All the power of the Immortals seemed to vanish in an instant.

As the dust of battle cleared Noro stood before a teeming host of mortal warriors, kingly.

The Kingdom

In all the world's history, I do not know that there has ever been a kingdom founded which was not meant to be THE Kingdom - that one government and one law that would at last endure though all other attempts might fail. Even the wise men of my own land, though they do not pretend that Lapulia was founded at the behest of a god or goddess, are thoroughly convinced that their kingdom in some sense ought to endure. In fact this motive alone is the reason the Magi preserved the Star Seers and took such pains both to hide them and to gather their predictions.

Men bemoan and bewail all the evils of their masters until they, by rebellion, become the masters themselves. They do not recognize, however, that the willfulness of heart that made their old master a tyrant is the very same quality that made their own hearts rebellious. They slay the tyrant and then place the crown upon their own head, and then clothe themselves in all the regal attire as if to make it all the more clear that they are of the same lump as he who they overthrew.

Noro and his shortlived Kingdom of the Blest was not different from any other dominion in the end. The teachings of Theodysus were to be the foundation of the law, and the histories of the Essenes were to replace the lies of Parganas. Freedom for all mortal men was to be decreed, and all lands were to be united under a common rulership, centered in a city to be built along the Esse River. Highways would be built to bring the decrees of the city's lords into the north, the south, the east and the west, so that every man in Bel Albor could hear the laws of the land. The lands that had been for so long naught but battlefields would be cultivated, and no child would go hungry and no old man would lay abandoned in a ditch.

All that now stood between Noro and the fulfillment of this goal was the seige of Alwan Palace and the hunt for Agonas, which he had given over into the hands of Athar.

'Truly the Eternal King has judged between you and I,' Noro said, remembering the division that lay between he and Nihls. 'When Alwan has fallen at last I swear I will find you, and I will take back from you what you have stolen.' He was very nearly a king; and he meant not to make Giretta's son his heir.
[Chapter IX:  
The Vanishing of the Elves](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Breaking of Alwan

Pelas did not expect the seige of Alwan to last overly long. Noro's betrayal had pushed him back behind his walls, and divided his armies. But the greater part of his forces were yet intact and, he believed, they would soon march against Noro and his Blest, making an end of their foolish rebellion. The only thing that truly unsettled him about the whole ordeal was the fact that Noro had not done all this with Sunlan's aid, but he had betrayed Agonas as well. He laughed bitterly as he realized that he was as angry that Noro had betrayed his brother as he was that the man had turned against him. The thought came to him that he still bore affection for his twin; but he refused to acknowledge the idea.

His musing as well as his hope was shattered by the arrival of a hawk. Maru, who had escaped Noro's attacks with a large force of elvish warriors, entered his throne room without announcement, bearing a roll of parchment in his fist and a hawk on his forearm. 'My Lord Pelas,' he began quickly, not waiting to be acknowledged. Pelas looked at him with annoyance - he believed Maru was growing more willful every minute. Now, however, was not the time to reassert his authority. 'The northern armies are lost. This message was sent to us from Urla, near unto the Erall River.'

'Speak clearly, Maru,' Pelas said, sitting up quickly. 'What armies are lost? and how?'

'All of your northern armies, my lord,' Maru said sternly. 'All of them.'

'But how is this possible?' Pelas thundered. 'This fool of Anathed-'

Maru interrupted him with a fearful shake of his head, 'Dragons, my lord. The message cuts short, but it seems as though they have poured into Alwan from the Far North in numbers beyond all reckoning.'

Pelas sat silently for a moment, absolutely stunned by the news.

'My lord,' Maru began. This time Pelas interrupted him.

'Say nothing, Maru,' Pelas said. 'Everything is greater for the elves than for mortal men. Both our glories and our shames. Do not speak of truce or peace, surrender or parley. There will be none. If Pelas must fall, great will be his fall - even as was his rise. I will not suffer this infant to sit on my throne.'

In his heart he cursed fate, but he said to Maru, 'We have preparations to make.'

All of the ingenuity and wisdom of the immortals, then, was put toward the task of preparing for the army of the Blest a great and terrible trap - a trap from which none, not even Pelas himself could hope to escape.

The Red Handed

Agonas, in the meantime, was hiding away in holes and caves in the swampland of southern Lushlin. His force dwindled as his servants fell one by one to the hunters of the Blest, who seemed not to rest from the task of hunting the dark son of Parganas. Noro meant this strike to be fatal for both kingdoms, and he poured all his will into the hunt for Agonas.

'Were it not for you, master Zefru,' Agonas said cautiously,' we would have died long since. But we cannot continue thus for much longer. You have lived all these years by cunning, and no man has ever caught you - do not, then, fail us now. You must know of some way we might escape these children.'

Zefru looked at his master calculatingly. While everyone trusted his abilities, no man trusted him. After some thought Zefru said, 'There is a place,' he began, trying to sound as though he had not the whole strategy planned out already, 'where the swampland has for many years been flooded and impassible. It is so wretchedly difficult a place that no man would think to search for us there. We can make it from Lushlin to Ilvas, and then to the Esse.' When he said 'us' it sounded as though the idea of saving anyone but himself had been an afterthought.

'Why have we not tread this path before, oh master of Evnai? Gheshtick asked him warily. He had himself saved Zefru from at least two rather perilous situations, and he knew how little faith was to be found in the dark elf. 'If you meant to save us, you would have spoken sooner.'

'We are not Doctrai,' Zefru hissed, 'what need have we to pretend that we keep to their morals? You have known me long, lord Gheshtick, and you also, Lord Agonas. And I have known you both also. We have always done as we had to do; and so also now will I do as I must. I could make you promises, but they would serve you no better than any other words I can say. If I meant to abandon you, I could have done so at any time. But I will not lie and say that I have remained for love or loyalty.'

Agonas looked at him with a grim face and then nodded. 'We can get back to the Esse, but then what? Shall we challenge the dragons in the Talon mountains? Shall we leave with all the others who wish to depart these shores?'

'I will,' Zefru said without hesitation. Gheshtick nodded agreement.

'I would not mind seeing the southern lands again. I would like to see the Deplund of the dwarves, at least its borders.'

Agonas laughed, 'Perhaps they have forgotten us in the Kingdom of Seasons. I would not hate dwelling there, amidst those wise and clever people.'

'You are a fateful man,' Gheshtick said, 'could you really abandon kingship? Could you abandon it to your brother?'

A fire seemed to kindle in Agonas' eyes and he threw a rock he had been handling into the swamps, scattering some frogs with the sound. He said nothing.

Zefru said nothing also, though his mind was filled for a moment with the soothing, swaying music of the forest of LofBrusht, where he had, an age ago it seemed, been a prisoner happily.

'You are an immortal,' Gheshtick said, as if he were not the same also, 'where could you go that you might hope to escape Fate?'

For a few more hours they sat there and spoke, and for only those few hours they were not lords or servants, but mere men and comrades.

Their plans were interrupted by an anguished shout followed by a splash as one of the elves who had been standing guard fell into the swamp with an arrow in his chest. The elves rose in a flash and drew their blades. Zefru vanished almost immediately, taking cover among the brambles and bushes that littered the swamplands. A dozen men with swords approached, and learned that the High Elves had not attained their fame and might through trickery or deceit. The dwarf-steel blades tore through the flesh of Noro's hunters as though they were men made of ribbon. At least two dozen more men approached however, and Gheshtick called Agonas to flee. Elves fell on every side of them, some of whom they knew well and who had served them for many hundreds of years. In the end only Xanthur, Agonas, Zefru and Gheshtick, along with a few whose names have been lost to historians, escaped the battle and made their way east and south, desperately searching for a path that might lead them to safety. 'This is not good!' Zefru cursed. 'We are cut off from all escape! I have scouted these lands well.'

Behind them they could hear the chain armor of Noro's men approaching, and the excited shouts of his soldiers met their ears, filling them with dread. Agonas cursed and struck the ground with his fist, sinking his arm down to the elbow in the mud. 'Pelas I curse you! It did not need to be thus! It was your doing! I curse you! I curse you!'

Gheshtick looked away and shook his head. 'How many men have died for you, and now you curse death like a little girl?' he longed to say. But he held his tongue, wanting to retain as much dignity as he was able to. He did not want to be remembered for any pettiness or cowardice in his final hour.

'Come, now!' a voice called out to them from above.

There, standing as if upon the very wind, a man stood, robed in white with scarlet edges and wearing a golden belt. 'You have but a moment to trust me,' he said, reaching a hand down toward them. His hand was red and dripping as though it were covered in fresh blood. Nonetheless Agonas reached out and took the stranger's hand. The whole world seemed to swirl, and the others were caught up together with him. The lot of them vanished before the very eyes of their pursuers.

The Harbor

An elf stumbled into the camp of the Enthedu, carelessly falling over their tripwires and warning bells. The women gathered their children to flee, and the men gathered themselves to withstand the intruders - to sacrifice themselves so that the others could escape. But the elf had not come, as many others had done, to prey upon a helpless band of fanatics. 'Help, please!' he said before collapsing to the ground. 'Take me to the harbors! Take me to the south!'

They could get little more from him until they had forced him to drink a bowl of hot broth and eat a loaf of bread and some cheese. 'Master,' Nihls said calmly, when at last the man seemed to have calmed his nerves. 'What is your trouble?'

'We have to get out of here,' he said, very nearly rising from his seat by the fire.

Teacher Eren, who stood nearby watching the elf carefully, placed a strong hand upon the elf's shoulder, gently keeping him in his seat. 'Why must we leave?'

'They are coming; they devour everything that opposes them. Flee! We must flee!' the elf raved.

'What is your name?' Nihls asked.

'My name is Rinin,' the elf replied. 'I am the master of -' he paused as if correcting himself, 'I WAS the master of Lord Falruvis' ships. There is a way to pass from the Great Lake to the western seas; I have sailed it thrice, in order to do commerce with the southern lands for my master's sake. There is a way! And there are ships too - more than enough for your people.'

'Ships?' Eren asked suspiciously. 'Why should we abandon the North? What is devouring - what is coming?'

'The sons of the Dragon!' Rinin said, his face draining of blood and his lips quivering. He retained not so much as a hint of the dignity one might expect from a servant of the High Elf Falruvis.

Into Nihls' mind resounded the words of Teacher Abbon, spoken long ago, 'the Dragon is not dead until he is dead within you.' He started at the thought. But he did not think Abbon was speaking of these creatures.

'How do we know that you are speaking the truth?' Teacher Eren asked.

Rinin looked up at him in amazement, as though he could not imagine how any could doubt him. 'You have heard the tales, no doubt,' Rinin said. 'They are true. Bel Albor is finished. The gods have cast off the sons of Parganas, and the end of the immortals is at hand.'

'How do we know that you speak the truth?' Eren repeated himself. He knew that Nihls would do everything he could to help the man - probably even if the elf meant simply to rob the Enthedu blind. The very least he could do was press the man for answers.

The man started and reached for his coat pocket as if suddenly remembering something. He took out a long barb like the stinger of a hornet. 'Some of the dragons are armored in barbs and horns such as these,' he said. When I lost my sword, this was all that remained to preserve me against the brigands who now roam freely through Alwan.'

Eren considered the barb for a moment and then turned his eyes back on Rinin's face. He drew close and stared at the man, 'Why are you alone? Have you no kin or family, that you would flee Bel Albor alone? You said that you were the servant of Lord Falruvis. But what of him? Are you going to prepare his ships, or to steal them and save your own skin?'

'There are no more masters in Bel Albor,' the man hissed. 'And I have a daughter in Alwan, but she is lost - that whole city is lost. Whether the Anathedan or the dragons take it, it matters not. There is no hope for any of them.'

'The Anathedan,' Nihls said to himself quietly. 'How many ships are there?' he asked.

'Nihls,' Eren began, fearing rightfully that the younger man was believing the elf's tale.

'How many ships, master Rinin?' Nihls insisted respectfully.

'There are hundreds,' Rinin answered. 'Pelas never knew of them. For he would have forbidden both their making and their use. Ever fearful of the lands outside he was.'

'We will take you to these ships,' Nihls said.

'Nihls!' Eren began.

'He is speaking the truth, I believe,' Nihls said. 'Too many are the accounts of these dragons, Teacher,' Nihls argued. 'We are not heroes or warriors; we must flee them even as we have fled Alwan's warriors. And whether there are dragons or not, if it is true that the Anatheda truly besiege Pelas' abode, then the Enthedu must leave these sures.'

'But why?' Eren asked. 'Is this not what we have always dreamed of? The end of the elves and their wickedness! Think on it, Nihls!'

'There is a Dragon more to be feared than those that walk abroad in the flesh - if such there be,' Nihls said. 'Now that the Blest have taken Bel Albor, will they tolerate a people who, being different, teach that their ways are wrong ways? Noro will not look favorably upon us if the crowns of Bel Albor fall into his hands. And if he falls, then the Immortal King Pelas will think even less of us, who share a root, though perhaps not a trunk, with the tree of the Blest.'

Eren's face was almost pure white as he considered all of these omens.

'We have long known that the teachings of Theodysus must leave the North and pass into Tel Arie,' Nihls said. 'The time has come to depart these lands and to pass into the south.'

The Broken Kingdom

Noro led a somber procession into the ruined walls of Alwan Palace. He knew now that he had waited too long to attempt to break into the city. He could not say for sure whether he would have been able to defeat Pelas, but even a rout would not be worse than what befell his men.

As soon as the greater part of his forces had entered the city it seemed as though every tall tower and ever high building collapsed, falling in upon the marching army. In the midst of the chaos and confusion the forces of Pelas attacked, and the high elves struck hard against the Blest and their allies. Great pits opened in the streets and swallowed many thousands of the Blest. Pelas had prepared his city for this invasion well. 'He may take Alwan,' Pelas admitted, 'but by the time he sits upon the throne nothing of Alwan will remain.' It seemed to the Blest as though the throne itself was the only thing in the city that did not have either a trap or a legion hidden behind it. Even so it took Noro a few days before he was willing to sit down upon the throne.

He sat amidst the ruins of the palace King Parganas had made out of the stones carried out of Mount Vitiai itself. He had fought well, and he had broken both the eastern and western kingdoms of the immortals. But despite the apparent hopefulness of the future he felt in his soul that he was the ruler of a dead and ruined kingdom. The wind blew strong through the broken stones of the palace, and Noro shivered on the throne - but not merely because the air felt colder than it ought to have been. He was a young man still, but he could feel the age of the place, and it made him feel weary of life itself.

They had searched for the better part of a week now, and they could find no trace of Lord Pelas or his chief servants. Some high elves were found dead among the ruins, and many more they had accounted for in the battles that preceded the seige. But not a trace of Pelas seemed to remain. This wearied Noro even more than the ancient stones upon which he sat. For it meant that in all likelihood he had yet to face Lord Pelas and his brother. What concerned him most was the fact that they, being immortal, could wait a thousand years before exacting their revenge against what remained of his descendants. They could hide away in dark Kharku for three centuries and return with an army to slay the sons of Noro. For this reason he resolved that the kingdom he established would be strong, and ready to face whatever perils might come against it. In his dark reasonings he decided that the son he had fathered by Meidi would prove stronger than whatever might have come from the foolish Giretta.

Ilnoron was his son, and he would not abandon him. But his line, he decided, would pass through Meidi's son. In this way the blood of Blest Candorion himself would be the foundation of the new kingdom. The mere fact that he considered all of this, and began committing parts of it to writing, reveals that he was as ready as Old Parganas to falsify history. To make Candor Proud the root of a royal family was to turn everything the Enthedu had for all their long years quietly labored to retain upon its head.

He made many plots and plans about how he would draw Nihls and his people into the north, so that he could take Meidi to himself, and raise their child as his heir. But as Fate would have it, Nihls came to him of his own free will.
[Chapter X:  
Fate](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

Dreams

When Meidi awoke in the morning she found, not for the first time, that Nihls was already awake.

'Did you not sleep, Nihls?' she asked him, seeing that he stood just outside their tent.

The Enthedu had started into the south almost as soon as they could after receiving the elf Rinin into their camp and gathering those relatives they could convince to go with them. The road they traveled had not been used in recent history, and everyone was weary from all the walking, riding and stumbling along their journey required.

Nihls entered the tent with the babe kicking unhappily in his arms. He did not answer Meidi at first. He took the child and laid it gently into her arms, saying, 'He can only be amused for so long before he realizes that it is all a ruse and that I have nothing to give. I have done all I can for him.'

Meidi could tell that he would have preferred to leave it at that, and to say nothing about his own lack of sleep. But she pressed him, 'Did you have more dreams, Nihls?'

'If you can call them such,' he said. 'I have never wanted visions. But wanting doesn't count for much in this world.'

His eyes were red and his hair disheveled and he could scarcely stand upright. 'It will do us no good for you to be like this. Complaining does not become you, Nihls. Get some sleep,' Meidi demanded. 'Before your grumpiness convinces me that you are a mere mortal like the rest of us.'

She gave him a smile to show that she jested, but there was hurt in his eyes nonetheless.

'I do not want to see her again,' Nihls said, on the verge of tears. 'If there was something that could be done for her, then I would do it. But as I am wanting in all other things, so also are my visions wanting. What I see are things past, and not things that can be helped. I see her pleading for her life in every vision. But she is gone.'

'Still, Nihls,' Meidi said, 'if they are not mere dreams, then they cannot be without purpose. And you yourself have said that nothing in this life is untrue - not even a lying tongue. We may be misled by things, but things as they are cannot lie to us.'

Nihls inhaled slowly, trying to find some way to continue his grumbling. But in this matter she was on the side of Teacher Abbon, and he had only his sour mood to support his objections.

'You are right, I suppose,' he said, taking a seat near their bedroll.

'What was your dream, Nihls?' Meidi asked. 'I ask not for curiosity's sake - let me know your thoughts, and perhaps I can counsel you.'

He began speaking, amazed that he would ever find himself discussing such things with Meidi, who for all the years of their youth was aloof and distant from him. He never thought he would be seeking her advice, and he certainly never thought that it would be as his wife that he sought it from her.

'I see them,' he began, omitting the names of Noro and Giretta, who Meidi already knew to be the subjects of his many visions. 'They are in peril as always. Sometimes drowning, sometimes being devoured by dragons or some other foul monsters. Always they cry out for help. But I can never reach them.' He paused for a moment and looked carefully at his wife's eyes. 'You are not there anymore,' he said as if he were realizing something unexpected.

'What do you mean?' she asked, passing the babe from one arm to the other.

'When I was younger, I saw everyone: Noro, Amarin, Ebbe and you, along with Giretta,' he almost wept at that name, but he struggled to retain his composure. 'But you are not there any longer.'

'Perhaps I no longer need to be saved,' she said, stroking the infant's hair.

Nihls sat for a while in thought. He gazed out the window and laid himself upon the bedroll. The words of Abbon resounded in his ears, 'Until each and every one of you faces the Dragon, he lives.'

He looked at Meidi and was startled to realize that his love for her had indeed grown beyond the duty that originally drove him to marry her. He smiled weakly as his exhaustion overtook him. The despair that had once ruled her was gone, and she was full of life. The Dragon could no longer touch her thoughts. How angry Giretta would have been about this troubled him only for a moment. Another saying of Abbon's suddenly made sense to him, 'The dead begrudge the living nothing, not because they are gone, but because they are at last truly present - and being present at last, they understand.'

He reached out and stroked the child's hair with his finger and then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The Enthedu had been traveling steadily westward since Rinin joined them. The elf was clearly amused by their strange ideas, but he utterly refused to hear any explanations for what they believed. If he was pressed he would grow despondent and begin to worry and weep over the family he had abandoned in Alwan. He would not, however, alter his course. 'We must get out of this land,' he insisted. 'To go back would be to risk losing ourselves as well as those we mean to save.'

This reasoning seemed good enough for most of them, but Nihls expressed his concerns about whether or not it was the right course. His sleep seemed to grow worse with each passing night, until at last he would lay down already dreading what would come in the night. Nihls felt quite sick with anxiety by the time they passed over the ridges beyond which Rinin assured them they would find the hidden harbor of Falruvis. As each man passed over the rise of the land and looked below they would first gasp and then sigh with relief. When Nihls finally guided Urian over the crest he understood the reason for this.

Stretching out before them was what once was a great city with a port built along the northern shores of the Great Lake. 'There is a path to the sea from here?' Nihls asked, though Rinin had answered the question many times to many of the Enthedu.

'I swear by every god,' he answered, 'Except for Pelas!'

'How many ships are there?' Nihls asked as his eyes passed over the city.

'As many as you want!' Rinin laughed. 'Every one of you could take your own if you wished!'

'Or every one of us could fit thrice over on just one of them!' Nihls said, his face draining of blood.'

'As long as we depart,' Rinin said. 'And as long as your people can listen to my commands - we will do well.'

Nihls clutched his chest, realizing too late that he had not been breathing. The world spun and he fell into blackness.

'Nihls,' the worried voice of Meidi spoke. 'Nihls!'

'I cannot leave her,' he said.

'What are you talking about?' she said, 'who?'

Nihls opened his eyes to see Meidi leaning over him with a damp cloth upon his brow. 'You are safe, but the others yet torment me.'

'You mean Noro and Amarin?' Meidi asked.

Nihls shut his eyes and nodded. He started to rise, but Meidi leaned firmly on his shoulders to keep him laying down. He gave up the struggle for a moment before looking around. He was in a tent, but by the light making its way through he could tell that it was still day - or that it was the following day.

'I cannot leave my promise unfulfilled,' Nihls said somberly as if to answer her unspoken questions. 'I promised her that I would look after Ilnoron, should anything befall her.'

Meidi said nothing, but her throat moved as she struggled with the thought.

'I cannot help her,' Nihls said. 'I could do nothing for her. And then she was gone. But she is not altogether gone. Her son - her flesh and blood and soul yet lives on.'

Meidi's face turned white, 'And what of me? What of the child I am to care for?'

Nihls swallowed hard and looked straight into her eyes, 'Just say the word, Meidi, and I will abandon her,' he spoke of Ilnoron, but he meant Giretta as she was now enshrined within the body of her son. 'I know that I am torn in two by duty. And you have a right to me; that I cannot deny you.'

She shivered. Looking into his eyes she could not refuse him, and she marveled at it. 'I do love you, Nihls,' she said quietly and as though she realized it for the first time. 'For if I did not then it would be easy for me to part with you. And it would be easy to make you stay and abandon them. But I will not let your oaths tear you in two. However much I have come to depend upon you, who redeemed my shame, I know that half of you would perish if you abandoned your promise.'

'That is my choice,' he said, his voice choked with emotion. 'I must betray her or betray you if I am to save my own soul. But if I risk myself, I can keep my word. If I fail, however,' he swallowed hard, 'I will have failed utterly, both you and her.'

She took his head in her hands and brought his cheek down to her lips. 'May the King bless and keep you, Nihls. We will not depart until you have returned to us. I will not let them. Come back to these ships and we will be waiting for you. And for her,' she added.

'I cannot ask everyone to risk themselves for me,' he said.

'Those who remain among us are only those who have recognized the truth in your words; even as you have forsaken all and risked all for us, so also we must do the same.' She smiled, 'And if any man tries to abandon you I will cast them into the harbor myself.'

He paused as he considered her words.

'Think no more on the matter, Nihls,' Meidi said. 'I would not let you go if I did not have my own concerns in this matter.'

Meidi suddenly appeared as though she were going to weep. 'I betrayed her, Nihls. I killed her-' she shook her head to prevent him from rebuking her, 'I know what I am saying, Nihls. I killed her. Do not argue with me. So filled with my own desires and dreams was I that I treated her with disdain - and it,' she paused as she spoke of those days, fighting back tears. 'Save her,' she said, speaking of Ilnoron, 'save her for my sake as well as for your own promise. For whether I made a promise to her I owe her a debt greater than any could hope to repay. But whether I am able or not does not change my duty.'

Nihls lifted himself so that his face was level with hers. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Suddenly all the weakness and sickness that had vexed him during their journey seemed to vanish. 'I never knew there was such strength and courage in you, Meidi, daughter of Blest Candorian.'

'If there is such within me, it is because you have put it there,' she replied.

The Rescue of Pelas

In truth Pelas never truly could have accepted the truth that his reign had come to an end. He no longer saw any distinction between his own will and Fate itself. Whereas at first he thought that Fate had chosen him, now what he had chosen was, in his eyes, Fate. He accepted the counsel of his fellows that their plight was without hope, but in every case the question they were called to answer was, 'Is there any way to save Alwan?' There was not. And Pelas accepted as much with surprising ease. He would not accept, however, that there was no way to save himself. Thus he found himself slipping from the palace in the midst of all the horrors his traps unleashed by passing through the canals that fed water into the city. Only he and a few of his most faithful servants escaped, one by one passing into the waters and making their way under the cover of darkness into the north, beyond the armies of the Blest, which now swelled with every mortal man who had grievances against Pelas. Falruvis escaped last, and when he appeared his face was grave. He spoke for a time to Pelas, who nodded silent agreement before commanding the elves to take up their burdens and flee into the west.

Daruvis made as if to protest the command, but his father stopped him.

'We must wait for Malia!' he insisted. But the look on his father's told him that something dreadful had happened.

'She and your son will not be here. I told you that I would escape last; were they able to they would have preceded me. Howbeit the men of Anatheda have cut them down. I could not aid them.'

Daruvis would have returned to perish in the city were he not withheld by his brothers, who insisted that he would serve their memory better by living than by dying in vain.

As later ages would reveal, Falruvis had, in fact, locked the pair in one of the towers before he made his own escape, thus hoping to end the line of the Lord of Morarta, who, as lord of the godhunters, had been his chief rival for nearly an age. Falruvis seemed to have understood before any of the other high elves that the time had come for the immortals to recreate themselves. He had learned well from his master, who in turn learned from his father Parganas, how keeping a firm hand upon the recording of history could by itself give a ruler great power.

It is my own belief that had not fate intervened, Lord Falruvis would not have suffered Pelas to escape. Indeed, by all that can be known, Lord Falruvis' own false histories were already beginning to take form in his mind, and I see no reason to believe that they included the fact that the high elves had, to a man, been servants of a childish king named Pelas. Better for Pelas to be a god than a ruler of flesh and blood. And so the gods of Weldera were born in the mind of he who would be for more than two and a half thousand years the lord of the elves in Tel Arie.

As fate would have it, Falruvis' hand was spared the blood of Pelas.

An hour into their flight they were attacked by untrained brigands who had, in name only, united themselves with the Blest of Anatheda. They cut down women and men alike with no hesitation, so fierce was their hatred of the elves. The immortals remember their wounds long, and their revenge can be cruel and calculated. But for mortals the injuries, often belonging to ages unseen by their own eyes, are never fully in view. Thus when they at last release their anger, it is all the wilder for being born partly of blindness. In that hour thousands of years of wisdom and skill were lost - and no man mourned their passing.

Pelas and a few of the high lords and their families alone escaped, but not by their own power. A fierce creature appeared - a man with hands dripping red with blood. 'Follow me!' he ordered, and soon the elves found themselves fleeing into a tunnel that they had not known of, and which seemed to expand and stretch out in front of them even as they ran. The red-handed man led the way, walking calmly as though he were strolling in a city market. But the elves had to run just to keep within sight of him. Before they knew it they emerged onto an open plain by the banks of a great river.

'This is the Esse,' Dalta said, 'or I am no elf.'

The others looked around, and those who knew the lay of the land agreed with nods of assent. Every eye was utterly bewildered. Their amazement at their sudden appearance so many leagues from Alwan was interrupted by yet another surprise.

'It is the lord Agonas,' Bralohi said flatly, noticing the survivors of Sunlan standing not far from them. One of the sons of the high lords ran forward, drawing his sword. But the red-handed man pointed his finger and the elf seemed to burst out of his skin. By the time he hit the ground he was naught but white bone.

'Do everything I command, and you will reign over all this world, both the North and the South,' he said. Between the horrid death they just witnessed and the coldness of his voice they knew that there would be no discussion. 'I did not suffer in the pits of this world for two ages to be disobeyed.'

Daryas the Great

The land seemed to unfold before them as they followed the red-handed man. The river whipped and flailed as if it were serpent in its death throes.

The elves of Sunlan seemed to know little better where their strange guide had come from. They did not waste any speech in commiseration, however. Agonas acted as though the others were not present. Zefru followed his example. Gheshtick, however, looked at the others sheepishly, but without saying anything. He did not want to displease either his master or this stranger who could make a man melt with a glance.

Xan looked at the other elves with hatred, but he too held his tongue, except for asking news of his daughter. The elves of Alwan, though they greatly outnumbered the others, were likewise unable to say aught either to or against the others.

Before they knew it they found themselves standing on the edge of the continent before a great ship, the like of which they had not seen in an age.

'The Fatewind!' Pelas exclaimed. 'It looks untouched!'

He could not help but smile, even when he looked at his brother, Agonas, whose scowl was washed away by his amazement.

'How is this possible?' Gheshtick said, breaking the silence of the Sunlan elves.

Zefru shook his head with frustration. He was more cunning than any other elf, yet he was thoroughly perplexed by this strange turn of events. Before anyone else could speak, however, the red-handed man spoke again in a cold, commanding voice.

'Even I cannot do all things,' he said, sounding very disappointed at the admission. 'This ship was made present for you; take it, and if you can stand together you will together rule over all things.'

The fact that the man could do all that he had done seemed to indicate to Pelas, however, that they would not and could not ever rule over him.

But before any man could respond to him they were interrupted by another power.

The spirit Paley appeared before them, garbed in brown robes with a rope belt, identical in form but not color with the red-handed man. 'I don't know who you are, devil!' Paley snorted, taking the form of a Dragon as he approached them. 'but you cannot change what has been decreed, for in this case the decree and the fulfillment are one and the same.'

'We will see, Paley son of Ilwell,' the red-handed man said with a sneer.

The mention of his father's name seemed to strike the Dragon as if it were a fireball, and not mere sound. 'How?' Paley said, suddenly marveling to find himself in the form of a man once again.

Pelas and Agonas leaped at the opportunity to strike at the strange man who had at various times troubled them. As they charged the stunned man they by chance noticed one another, and accordingly they increased their mad dash to slay him as if all their rivalry had now come down to the question of who would be first to make an end of this man.

Pelas slashed out with his sword and cut open Paley's stomach, and Agonas, with his own blade, cut the man's head from his body. But as they turned they gasped. There stood another, garbed in the same plain robes, lifting him from the earth as though he had but tripped.

'I am sorry,' Paley said, turning to face the man with the dripping red hands. 'I was not ready.'

'You will need to be, when the time comes,' the other man said. 'This is my last dream. I was here at the very beginning, and I have had a glimpse of all things. You,' he emphasized, 'will need to bring this dream to a close - but not yet. I will give you time. But you must consider the meaning of all that you do.'

Lightning flashed and in an instant the man became an enormous dragon.

'Master Daryas!' Paley shouted through tears. 'Who will teach me, that I may be ready for that day?'

'Just as there is but one Blood,' his eyes flashed toward the red-handed man when he said that last word, 'so also is there but one Teacher. Know this, understand this, and you will know all that you need to know.'

Paley knelt on the ground and clutched his head in his hands. If it were not for the terror that made them feint, the sons of Parganas would have been glad to see him thus humiliated. But nothing was humorous to them at that moment, and even less was comprehensible to their minds.

Cheru and Oblis rushed to their master's side, bravely but foolishly. Daryas grew larger, inhaling a gale and swallowing a thousand rainstorms as he rose up into the clouds. His form was like unto the form of all three great beasts, the Beast of the Earth, the Thunder Snake and the Fire Bird together. He towered over the elves and with a blast of his nostril water poured forth and washed over the shivering and weeping forms of Agonas and Pelas, along with the latter's fool servants. In an instant they were stripped of their flesh and washed into the sea to roll and tumble until time saw fit to bring them to shore. Their memories were likewise washed of all order and sense, and their knowledge itself was battered against the rocks of the sea until only the form and shadow of their wisdom was retained to them.

Daryas turned and lumbered northward, spilling water in rivers from his mouth as he made his way up the Esse, his great legs sinking deep into the river, undaunted by the mightiest of that mighty rivers currents. His head was in the clouds, and great wings stretched from his back, sending whirlwinds and storms in every direction.

The red-handed man sighed, and turned toward the others. Most of the elves he regarded as if they were no longer worth considering. But he paused when his eyes passed over Bralohi and his brother. 'I will see you again,' he said coldly. 'Be sure that you are worthy of me when I return.' As soon as he had spoken it he was gone.

The Fatewind, however, remained before them, and the remaining elves hurriedly boarded. With a nod from Falruvis the elves of Alwan drew their blades to slay the remnant of the elves of Sunlan. Zefru and Gheshtick escaped the blades by diving into the waters, but in the end they were washed away in that unearthly torrent that streamed from the mouth of the immeasurable Daryas. And so they, like their master, began to live that living death of the spirits. Maru also, and several others with him, were lost in that struggle, being cast into the stream by Gheshtick's strong arms. This was the beginning of the fall of the immortals of Bel Albor, but it was the rise of the gods.

Survivors

The list of all those who escaped in that day cannot be known entirely, but the records of the elves agree with the following:

Falruvis escaped with his wife Indra the daughter of King Ijjan of Sunlan, who in Tel Arie was renamed Gladia. Along with them escaped their sons Daruvis, Telruvis and Marruvis, the latter of whom perished with their father when Dadron fell by the betrayal of the former. Also with them were their two daughters Samua and Kalrua, whose names were highly regarded in Ilmaria, but who perished along with the others in the fall of that city.

Sol and his wife Silan escaped with their sons Duesol and Lorsol and their daughter Milan. It is unknown to the scholars of Lapulia which of these sons came to be known as Lorvis; according to the records of the elves, Lorvis was treated as Solruvis' heir, which should mean that it was Duesol, but the name as it has come to us is so similar to Lorsol that it is hard to accept that it was any other but he. The elves changed many names in those days, however, and no man can truly be certain. Sol himself became known as Solruvis, which in Bel Albor would have meant that he was Falruvis' brother and son to Ruvis, who was slain by Agonas in the old kingdom of Ilvas.

A similar trick of naming was used to create the appearance that Morta and Dalta were brothers, though they could hardly be more distantly related one to the other. Morta of his family escaped alone, his wife being mortal and long dead, and his daughter betrayed and abandoned by the scheming Falruvis, who seemed to think he had inherited the authority of Pelas himself. Were it not for the protection of his son in law, Falruvis almost certainly would have slain him that very hour.

Of Ele, the kinswoman of Amro and Ghastin, the records do not speak. It is clear that by the time the elvish records begin to appear, Dalta was alone in his city on the shores of western Olgrost. It is likely that she, like so many others, did not escape the waters that overtook the northern world. Dalia and her beloved Thuruvis escaped, though the latter of these is not mentioned in any official record. If the elves could have made their histories without the scribes of Lapulia to gainsay them, they would have let the mortals believe that there had never been a northern kingdom at all. Their earliest histories - those written in Ilmaria before the Foreign Wars and the Albori Wars - claim that they had always dwelt in Tel Arie, and had, rather than being born like any other man, simply 'awakened'.

The 'brothers' Falruvis and Solruvis and their wives became the founders of the Argent or Silver elves. The true brothers Kolohi and Bralohi were not sons of Lohi, the hero who fought alongside Parganas against the Immortals of Mount Vitiai. They, too, 'awoke' along with their brides, to be the fathers of all the Verdant or 'wood' elves who, like them, had brown hair. So also the Malent or 'dark elves' were descended from Morta and Dalta, two 'brothers' who, like the others, simply 'woke' in Ilmaria. There is no hint, in the elvish histories, of the Kharkan blood that flowed in Xan of Thure's veins.

All of this, of course, took place long before the rise of the mortals.

But there is enough fable mixed with the history of Bel Albor that we need not introduce any more into the history of Tel Arie.

Dalta had a son also, whose name was Daltanse, which accurately enough can be understood as we have known it: Dalta II.

Kolohi and Bralohi escaped with their entire families. Kolohi escaped with his hateful wife Wellin and his two sons, Kollorn and Kuxni. Bralohi and his wife Viran escaped the waters with their sons Aebral, Edbral, Cadbral, Ilbral and Urbral, all of whom perished in Ilmaria when Xanthur laid siege to the city of Luma. There were undoubtedly many daughters who have not found their names written or recorded, since men, even our own otherwise careful historians, seem to think that telling half of the story is sufficient for a history.

All that now remains to be told is how the teachings of Theodysus, for whom in truth the whole northern Kingdom had its existence, made their way into the south, and, in recent times, into our own dark city.
[Chapter XI:  
The Hospitality of the Blest](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Northward Journey

'Hail master Urian,' Nihls said as he took the reigns of Teacher Abbon's old horse. 'I have need of your strength, brother.' The horse leaned toward him and touched his head with its nose. 'We will ride against all evils today, and we will ride hard. Will you do this for me?' The horse could not answer, of course, but he felt he owed the beast at least the ceremony for what he was about to put him through. The whole land had been rumbling for most of the past two days, and everywhere he looked Nihls could see signs of danger, whether from a falling tree limb or from the cracking earth.

He fastened his belongings to the beast's saddle and pulled himself onto the animal's back. He started the journey at a gentle pace, but as soon as Urian seemed to have warmed up he began pushing harder, hoping to cover as much land as he could before dark. It would take him several days to reach Alwan at least, and that was assuming he ran into no difficulties. Between brigands and warriors, dragons and earthquakes he figured he would run into trouble of one sort or another. As he sped off northward he felt utterly helpless and hopeless, fully believing that he rode off to his death. But for all that he at least felt certain that he was doing the right thing. Whether he succeeded or not was up to the King. It was man's part to do man's part, and leave the results to the God. He was riding to tell Noro and the Blest about the harbor, and to bring Ilnoron to the boats of Falruvis - and if he had more luck than dark Zefru himself he might succeed.

He did not have to travel very far to find signs of flight and panic. By the afternoon he saw farms and homes being abandoned as men desperately packed their belongings into carts and bound supplies to their horses. He told some of these – those who would listen to him – of the harbor.

By evening he had seen dead men lying upon the ground. Some might have simply perished from want and hunger, but others had clearly been killed, their murderers making no efforts to conceal their deeds. It was a time of lawlessness. It was said that the line of Parganas had ended, and that dragons tore apart Ilvas. Men were no longer concerned with the consequences of their deeds. The only consequence now seemed to be death of one sort or another. Men figured they might as well do as they pleased for once, since either way meant the grave. More than once Nihls turned aside to offer aid, and more than once he very nearly lost his own life as suspicious or greedy men turned their blades against him.

Two days he spent traveling northwest and two nights he spent under the stars in a tiny cloth shelter. Snow and rain took turns assaulting him, mixed in with gales as hot as a summer storm and gusts of wind as dry as the air of a desert. Nothing made sense in Bel Albor any longer. He very nearly drown when he made his way across what had seemed like a rather harmless stream. As soon as he had set foot in the water it seemed that a flood had been unleashed, nearly swallowing him and Urian both. He spent much of the next day in front of a fire, drying his clothing and warming himself and his horse. His haste had cost him time - as Abbon had often warned him. 'So many things I have learned from you,' he mused, 'but most I did not believe until I learned them anew for myself.'

The next day he found a road and followed it north toward Alwan. Here bodies lay strewn about as though a battle had taken place. Smoke rose from the Palace - and not the smoke of cooking fires or chimneys. The city was burning; devilish men pillaged everything the elves had built, carting their wealth away in great caravans. Nihls noticed now that many among the dead were elves. He could scarcely believe his own eyes.

Pelas had fallen. 'Death rules us all,' he thought. 'Even the elves are not immortal.' Were it not for the dragons and floods that now ravaged Bel Albor the people would be feasting and celebrating the end of the elves. The horrors and storms that swept through the land drove all hope and mirth from the land, however. Even had things been well, however, Nihls did not believe that he could bring himself to celebrate such tragedies.

It was said among all peoples that to know a man you must 'stand in their place,' and 'see with their eyes,' but Nihls had always thought that to stand in another's place and to see with their eyes was what it meant to be them, and if he stood where Pelas stood, he would do as Pelas did. He was no better; he was just fortunate to have been raised the son of his father and the pupil of Abbon, whereas Pelas was the pupil of Lady Aedanla's pride.

He heeled his horse on, hoping against hope that he would find Noro without delay. He had considered trying to find Ilnoron and riding away with him. But whenever that thought pulled at him he could hear Abbon's warning that all men must, in their own way, face the Dragon. He finally understood what that meant - what that meant for him.

He had to face Noro the Hero, and his blindness.

His thoughts were brought away from these things by a desperate weeping. He looked to the west and saw a muscular man pulling a young man by the hair while his mother screamed and pleaded. He heeled Urian on, rushing to the scene without thought or hesitation.

'Stop it!' Nihls said as he brought his horse to a stop. He leaped from the saddle and approached the man.

He was a dark haired man with thick furs wrapped around him. He had a sword on his hip and he held the youth by the neck. Behind him Nihls could see a dead horse lying in front of a small carriage. There were two other men rummaging through the boxes and sacks in the carriage.

The man pushed the youth to the ground and drew his sword. There would be no discussion, Nihls realized bitterly.

Nihls stepped back and said, 'You needn't do this thing! They cannot stop you from robbing them. Do not put their blood on your hands as well!'

'They are dead either way,' the man said as he swung his blade clumsily at Nihls. The Enthedu dodged back and avoided the attack. 'Their blood's gonna spill out one way or another. My hand is as good as any other!'

'I do not plead for their lives for their sake,' Nihls answered. 'But for yours. Do you not yet understand, in this world you can only harm yourself. You may be right; you cannot save their lives whatever you do. But you don't have to make yourself a devil in the meanwhile.'

Soon the man's companions left their pillaging to watch the confrontation. One drew a shortsword from his belt and the other took up an axe that had been laying on the ground. Seeing that he would soon be outnumbered Nihls hissed and drew his own sword. The man sneered and made to take off Nihls' head. Nihls ducked beneath his swing and swung his own sword straight into the man's face. Teeth scattered like rain and the man bellowed. His companions were upon Nihls before he could do anything more. The axeman swung fiercely at Nihls' feet, but the Enthedu leaped over the axe and struck the man in the ankle, tripping him. The last man knew a thing or two about swords, however, and Nihls was hard pressed to keep his head. He backed away slowly, unsure what he was going to do next. His boots slipped and slid in the cold, rain soaked dirt. Suddenly the sound of metal clanging rang out, and Nihls saw the youth he had rescued standing over the swordsman with an iron pan in his hand. The swordsman was laying on the ground with blood dripping from his head. He stirred weakly; he was still awake but the fight had been stricken from him.

The young man took up the sword without hesitation and lifted it to finish the brigand.

'No!' Nihls shouted.

Amazement alone stayed the young man's hand.

'If they are wrong to kill for their own whims, then so are you,' Nihls said. For a moment the young man looked as though he was ready to attack Nihls also. But the woman came and took his arm, 'Come, Ado,' she said, trying to bring his attention away from Nihls and his strange words.

Nihls went back to the other two men. 'Be gone from here,' he said, 'and pray that the God has mercy upon you.'

'Mercy,' the man with the injured ankle spat. 'What mercy is left? We are all dead men. What difference does it make?'

'It makes every difference,' Nihls answered, 'it may not change the course of events that have been set in motion. But while you yet draw breath there is time to turn aside from these wicked deeds. Let the flood take you, but you will have retained your soul. Let the dragon consume your body within its fires, but it cannot destroy the good in you.'

'What manner of man are you?' the woman asked, interrupting their speech.

'I am just a man,' Nihls said, shaking his head.

'You speak of a god,' she said, 'Pelas is the only god in Alwan, and he is gone.' Nihls could not tell whether this pleased her or filled her with fear.

'God is the truth,' Nihls said. 'And no man can rightly deny that, or take its place.'

'The truth is,' the young man Ado said, still clutching the sword in his fist, 'we are all going to die; sooner if we leave this scum untroubled. And you are going to teach us about gods?'

'The truth is,' Nihls corrected, 'that every deed you do drags the whole world along with it, whether you are the greatest man or the weakest. There is nothing happening in Bel Albor in which you have not had a hand. That is what it means to be, to do and to will. It doesn't matter if you are good or evil, whether you are the robber or the victim. You are a part of this - of all of this!' Nihls said, waving his sword to gesture at the whole smoldering landscape of Alwan. 'Do you not understand? We are all of the same substance, whether we are the brigand or the victim, we can only rob ourselves and be robbed by ourselves. We can only harm ourselves, and when we judge we can only judge ourselves. Lay aside your weapons, for they are useless, whether they kill an army of goblins or a blade of grass they can do nothing.' This he spoke to the injured men. 'Likewise do not seek revenge,' he turned his attention to Ado now. 'Justice is done in every moment, when the aggressor inflicts a wound upon his own substance in the form of his victim. Revenge, therefore, is not justice; it is but a new crime under an old pretense. True justice rules this world, though we do not always see it. You will know it only when you endure every injury as a due punishment and suffer every wrong as though it were your own hand that acted against you.'

He could not remember Teacher Abbon quite saying those things, but it felt to him as though he were listening to his old instructor speaking, and not to his own cracking voice. A warmth entered him at that moment, and he sheathed his dull blade. 'I must go into the city; whoever wishes to accompany me is welcome. Bel Albor is in its death throes - but there is one more that I must rescue before the end, if the Eternal King allows it.' His listeners stared at him in astonishment, their eyes passing from one to the other. Ado looked as though he were about to spit. The woman, however, silenced him with a look and said, 'We will go with you. Your words drive away fear. I will not leave your side until I understand them.'

Nihls nodded and gestured toward the brigands' horses. 'Take one of the horses for yourselves, in lieu of the one slain by these men. They can share a saddle as they go their way. I hope that ere the end you find peace.' Nihls said this to them as he began preparing his own steed for the northward journey. The brigands were too stunned to do or say anything.

Ado and the young woman, who introduced herself as Ealan, hurriedly gathered what belongings they thought they could bear.

Nihls mounted and was amazed to see the man with broken teeth staring fearfully up at him. The other two thieves looked at the pair of them in confusion before leaping upon the remaining horses and galloping away.

Nihls reached his hand down toward the man. 'Lay aside your weapon,' Nihls said. 'If you are going to follow me it will only hinder you.'

'Where are you going?' the man asked through his ruined mouth. He did not seem bothered by the fact that Nihls still retained his own blade.

'Wherever the King sends me,' Nihls answered as he helped the man into his saddle. 'To death, to hell, to flood or to a dragon's belly. I care not, nor do I know which will be my fate. I do not seek life, but only truth.'

Ado and Ealan looked at Nihls with concern, but Nihls just started riding off into the northeast without saying another word. After a long hesitation Ado began riding after them.

The Throne

If the youth Ado and his mother had expected things to become simple after following this strange young man, they would very soon be cured of their misapprehensions. The moment Nihls entered the ruined city of Albori - an easy feat since nearly every wall had fallen in upon itself - he found himself surrounded by warriors and placed under guard.

Athar, with his armor still stained with blood, rode to confront him as soon as word reached him that Nihls had arrived at Alwan. He took the Enthedu's sword from him, but passed it back with a laugh when he saw that it was little more than an iron stick. 'We are not permitted to let strangers enter the city of the King armed, but I can hardly call this a weapon,' he snickered.

As soon as Nihls was taken where none might see him he was dragged from his horse, and, along with the brigand Thurinn who rode with him, cast into a damp prison cell with crumbling walls. A lot of light found its way into the cell, since the building in which it was housed had very nearly fallen over entirely during Pelas' final counterstroke. Nihls could not but imagine that Ado and his mother had found a similar welcome awaiting them.

'What is the meaning of this?' Nihls protested, 'I am an Enthedu, like unto Noro your employer!' that last word was meant to be an insult of sorts, but Athar was unmoved.

It could not have entered his mind how little the ancient Enthedu would have liked his chosen profession. But in his mind the Enthedu were weaklings, and wicked for their unwillingness to fight and kill to make a better world. He had never gone by that name - all he knew were the ways of the Blest. He was a follower of Noro the Hero, soon to be King over Bel Albor, as Nihls could see from the way he was spoken of.

'You, who stole the lord's son, dare to come here?' Athar's voice scoffed. 'It is true that you are a fool, even as it is said throughout Anatheda and as it will soon be said in all Alwan. Do you think we are so foolish and so blind that we cannot reckon up the sums? The child in Meidi's womb belongs to the lord, and you dare come here? Have you come to take lord Noro's other child as well?'

'I have said no such thing!' Nihls said, feeling sick at the deception, though it was not a lie. He would not live long if he revealed that indeed it was for Ilnoron that he had come. But he had not come for Ilnoron alone. Many men could be saved by the ships in Falruvis' harbor, and Nihls hoped to save all that he could - even if he himself must remain behind. If he thought Athar would believe him he would tell him of the harbor right then and there, even if it meant that he himself remained to perish in the cell.

But for all that he was yet lying - or deceiving as the case may be - to save his life. He knelt on the cold stone floor and waited with his eyes closed.

'Then for what have you come to trouble the Blest?' Athar asked hatefully. He wished with all his heart that Noro had granted his request that he might be permitted to slay Nihls upon sight.

'I know nothing of the Blest,' Nihls said, wincing as though that word hurt his tongue, 'Nor know I anything of heirs and lords. And I have come because of a promise to Ilnoron's mother, but not to steal or to kidnap anyone. I have come to warn the Blest that the time has come to seek shelter elsewhere. Bel Albor is dying.'

'Do you think the Eternal King is like a drunkard?' Athar laughed. 'Do you think that he is like a man who strikes out in blindness, wounding wife and enemy with the same blow? Anatheda is a shelter. And Alwan is under the King's wings. Let the dragons rage and the floods rise in the east. In the wake thereof the Kingdom of the Eternal One will rise unopposed. It has been spoken.'

These were new interpretations, Nihls thought to himself. The Blest had grown confident. 'We are not promised a long life,' Nihls argued. 'Nor are we promised a good one or a comfortable one. We are only promised that, in opposition to the blindness in which we lay ere the naming of the Hidden Name, we would walk in light. We have life now, we do not seek it in this or in any realm or kingdom. That kingdom is here already within him who names the Hidden Name of truth.'

'Like your master, then,' Athar said cruelly, 'you teach falsehoods and mystical doctrines, denying what the Scriptures say - that the people of Theodysus would rule over all things.'

'I do not deny anything of what Theodysus taught,' Nihls replied. 'He who would rule all things must first make himself the ruler of nothing. Then only will he rule over all, but only by getting out of the way of he who alone can rule anything. If you strive by your own strength to make yourself a lord you will be lord of nothing, least of all your own person.'

'Then you not only mock the right teachings; you make a mockery of he whom you would call a friend. By this I know that you are not one of the Blest,' Athar said.

'I am not,' Nihls affirmed, quite truthfully.

Thurinn watched him with amazement. He was no stranger to a prison cell, but he was a stranger to the calm way Nihls responded to his ill-treatment. 'Your ways are hard,' he said, when at last they were left alone. A distant weeping seemed to indicate that Ealan and her son had found their way into the very same prison.

'To risk all,' Nihls said quietly. 'To risk not only your own life, but the life of your loved ones, and perhaps even the life of a world - that is no easy matter. But whether we strive or submit, we cannot determine the ends. Let them, therefore, take care of themselves. Do what is right. That is what we were taught in the days when the Enthedu yet understood wisdom.'

Night came and went without so much as a sound from without, save for the distant rumblings of the earth and the occasional workman passing nearby. The city was utterly destroyed, but Noro wanted to built his own capital atop the ruins. Work had already been begun on the walls, delayed only until the last of the elves they had captured in the city were hung. All over the city the rotting corpses of the immortals swayed in the breeze, dead and vexed by carrion. But around their bodies the mortals worked and labored to restore the city's defenses. Noro wanted the walls built high - enough so that they might even be safe from the rampages of the dragons. This was an impossible task, of course, but men have undertaken many such purposes throughout their long history.

After two days in the cell with nothing to eat but what little they carried in their sacks with them, Athar returned. He brought four armed men along with him and opened the cell as though he were preparing to release a madman.

'You must do as you will,' Nihls said when he saw the guards. 'But you know as well as I do that this is unnecessary.'

Athar grinned and then snapped his fingers, sending the guards into the cell where they roughly cast Thurinn to the ground and bound Nihls with chains, jerking him harshly from the cell. Thurinn fell into a rage and rushed toward Athar, who just barely made it to the outside of the cell door before the brigand reached him. Thurinn put such weight into his charge that the door swung shut just as easily with Athar's weight added to it as it would have swung alone. When the door slammed shut Athar had to hold onto the iron bars to keep from stumbling. He spat and kicked at the bars angrily. Thurinn kicked back and the whole frame of the cell rattled, sending rocks and pebbles tumbling to the ground. Athar tried to hide the shock on his face and moved along, shouting curses at his guards as they made their way out of the prison into the full light of the sun.

It was a beautiful day, with few clouds and a warm breeze. Were it not for the incessant rumbling of the earth it would have been peaceful too. But there was no peace in Bel Albor, save for that which resided in those who knew the Hidden Name. Nihls was now convinced that Noro was not among that number.

Within him he struggled between anger and hatred toward the fool Noro, and the teachings of Abbon, which would have him forgive all wrongs. Such doctrines were always easier to speak about than to practice, however. He was very afraid he would lose sight of them for the sake of his indignation. As they walked toward the ruined palace the thought took hold of him that he was being brought before the Dragon himself.

It was ridiculous in a sense - he was being brought before a childhood companion and sometimes friend. But he knew it as clearly as he knew his own name. He was being brought to the Dragon.

They navigated broken down corridors, sometimes passing through entire sections of the palace that had nothing of a roof remaining to hide their inner structure from those outside. The inner sections of the palace remained intact, though most of the ceiling had collapsed within the throne room itself.

Noro sat in his full strength upon the ancient throne of Lord Parganas, conqueror of the ancient Immortals of Vitiai. But his strength seemed out of place in that room, where everything was either a ruin or age-worn. It was like a newly born babe wrapped in burial clothes, Nihls thought with a chill.

'Bring him before me,' Noro thundered when he saw, through the great cracks in the wall, that Nihls had arrived. When he said, 'before me' his tone seemed to indicate that his presence was a place in itself, regardless of his surroundings.

'I have given you teachings,' Noro began, quoting from their scriptures, 'and you have not learned. I have given you wages, and you have not earned. I have given you tinder and wood, but you have not burned; all that I have given you your sloth has now spurned.'

Nihls remained silent, unsure of Noro's meaning. In truth he was surprised to hear the man quoting such passages. But even Athar seemed to have some regard for the doctrines of the Blest, whether they differed from what was taught in Thedval or not.

'I am seated upon the throne of Pelas Parganascon,' Noro continued in a flat tone as if he were instructing Nihls in history. 'All that has been foretold has been fulfilled this day. Bel Albor belongs to us now.'

'To us?' Nihls said.

'And why not?' Noro said. 'We are not enemies, are we Nihls?'

'I have but one enemy,' Nihls replied firmly. 'And he is no enemy.'

'You speak in riddles,' Noro grinned. 'I cannot think where you might have learned such a manner of speaking.'

'Nothing belongs to us,' Nihls replied ignoring the taunt.

'But yet Candor owned a horse and a writing table,' Noro replied wearily, referencing details from their ancient histories as if to show that Nihls was speaking improperly.

'Forgive my simple mistake,' Nihls said mockingly. They both knew which of their interpretations was truer. He immediately regretted the mockery, however. Noro's eyes seemed to flash with fire when he heard the taunt. It would do him no good to make a fool of Noro. That is not why he came all this way.

'You know all the crimes of Pelas!' Noro said. 'You know what his father did to the beautiful immortals of Vitiai! You know how they lied to us - to us mortals every day for \- who can say how long? Ten-thousand years? Who can know when the sins run so deep?'

'I know all of those things,' Nihls said. 'And I cannot say how long and how deep his evil runs.'

'But yet you would have spared him?' Noro asked. He felt pretty certain that he could predict what Nihls had come to say, and he felt no reason to wait for Nihls to say it before he refuted him. 'You would have left him alone to rule and reign over that which he had no right to command?'

'This is not the way, Noro,' Nihls said.

'What is the way, then?' Noro snapped. 'Shall we slink back and hide in a valley for another five hundred years? Shall we wait until the elves kill every last man and woman, and then themselves? Is that how the Blest will come to rule Bel Albor? Is that how the Kingdom will be established?'

Nihls did not reply. He shifted and his chains rattled upon the stone floor.

Noro continued, 'This was the first moment mankind at last had the strength and circumstances to overthrow their rulers. Was I to pass it by? What then? Thousands would have died, and their blood would be upon my head for doing nothing when I could have stopped it. Are you a murderer, Nihls? That you would let all those women and children bleed in the street? To what end?'

'To what end?' Nihls repeated quietly. 'You do not know the ends, Nihls. No man can see all things. Even the Star-Seer did not know everything. How do you know what ends will come from what you have done? Save Bel Albor, Noro, and you might damn Tel Arie and Bel Albor both.

'In Lushlin it is said,' Nihls went on, 'that there was once a tribe of mortal men who lived deep within the bogs. These men ate the biting flies that dwelt therein, and never grew ill or sickly therefrom. But Lohi and his sons killed them in retaliation for the deaths of three high elves. Now no man in that land is safe. For the flies left that place in search of food, and they feast upon the mortals and immortals of Lushlin, and their bite gives men feverish dreams and dreadful diseases. How many men have died since because those two hundred souls that were slain? How many might have been saved had they lived, to kill the bugs and to be bitten thereby without falling ill? You have saved millions, no doubt, Noro, but it is not within your power to determine what will come of it - perhaps a million millions will die because of what the Blest have done here. Perhaps nothing will come of it. Perhaps the world will be transformed into a garden. I do not know. And neither do you - you therefore act in ignorance. And there is nothing praiseworthy in that!'

Noro rose from his seat with a growl and made as if to charge Nihls then and there. But before he had taken two steps he remembered that he had to start acting like a king if he ever meant to rule this great land. Unable to answer Nihls' charge, he replied with a query.

'What would you have done, then, Nihls,' he asked.

'I do not know,' Nihls answered truthfully. 'But I have sworn off killing, and even if it meant my own death, so be it. I hope I would have the strength to accept it.'

'But what of your kin? What of your WIFE?' Noro asked. 'Will you let her die?' His anger rose almost as though he spoke of his own wife. In his mind this is very nearly how he saw things.

'I cannot stop her or any other from dying, either by the good or by the evil that I do. Shall I make myself a devil to buy her a year or two, or even a hundred? If I by war purchase for myself a few years of peace and security, what will I have when I lose everything in death - when all debts must be repaid.'

He paused for a moment and then spoke again before Noro could reply, 'To save Bel Albor, Noro, you have ravaged a great deal of it, and to save lives you have taken lives. Is it justice to take a life in order to save another? Or is it folly altogether? Theodysus taught us of justice when he said that justice falls at every moment. For what a man does to another he does to himself in the other. So justice is done, and it is never delayed. And justice is realized only when we suffer wrongfully, willingly.'

'It is clear to me, then,' Noro said coldly, walking over to look Noro in the eyes. 'You are as much a fool as your teacher!' He spat on the ground. 'I would have welcomed you to our number as a brother, Nihls,' he said.

'Have I left the Enthedu, Noro? That I must be accepted back into it? Or have you departed, that I must leave the Enthedu to come to you?'

'Get out of my sight!' Noro said, 'I do not have time for Abbon's riddles. Get him out of my sight!' he added the last as a command to his servants as soon as he remembered his authority.

The sun was almost at its height by the time Nihls was cast back into the cell with Thurinn. The brigand said nothing, though, and just sat quietly as if to pretend that he was not present. Tears streamed from the Enthedu's face, and he wept silently until night fell.

Amarin

When the Enthedu was first sundered in the days after Amro and Ghastin destroyed Thedval, Amarin was uncertain whether he ought to follow Nihls or Noro. He was far from comfortable with Noro's spear - more uncomfortable than he was with Nihls' sword at least. Whatever Nihls thought he was doing with that blade, it was clear at least that he held firm to the commitment to kill no man with it. Noro, however, had slain men. However necessary it might have been or seemed, it was no small matter. Were it not for the perils that yet beset them, and the great fears that tormented them, the people would never have taken a warrior for their leader. But fear turned their affections away from the sufferings of their ancestors and toward the instruments of warfare.

Had Amarin foreseen this he might very well have accompanied Nihls from the outset. What decided the matter for him was Ebbe, who had little love for Nihls, still thinking ill of him from all the insults he had received from the other youths of Thedval. She was frightened; and however little she liked the spear, she felt safer near one who was not afraid to kill to save. But as time wore on, and especially when the Blest began not only to defend their own towns, but also to make offensive assaults against Alwan, she began to find the security that was purchased by such violence distasteful.

Amarin did everything within his power to remain in the good graces of Noro - chiefly to protect Ebbe, but partly to look after Giretta's son Ilnoron and the rest of the Enthedu. In his mind the line between the Enthedu and the Blest was as sharp as a dagger, though to Noro's mind the Blest was but a new name for that which they had always been.

Amarin had managed to keep himself out of the worst of the battles of the Blest by feigning incompetence with weapons. He was not great with any weapon, though he was a decent bowman. He was not half as bad as he pretended to be when Noro and his captains were observing. He had partaken in the defense of Anatheda when it seemed as though Pelas and his elves would trample them all under foot. But even then he killed no one, though he had shot a man in the leg with an arrow.

As soon as the city of Albori fell into Noro's hands he took to the road and hurried eastward. News of the ruin of the city and the way Noro had taken up the throne of the immortals met him as he traveled, as messengers were sent back and forth between the dominion of the Blest and the newly conquered lands of Bel Albor.

When he drew near the city, however, he learned of Nihls' presence and heard about the audience he had with Noro. His heart sank into his stomach and he could not think of what to do. He sought out Noro, but was unable to learn anything more from him than what rumor could tell him. Noro, however, seemed delighted by the sight of his old friend. The gleam in his eyes, however, was greed and not fondness. 'He has ever trusted you,' Noro told him, as if he thought all that trust was valuable only insofar as it would now make Nihls vulnerable to his deceptions. 'Learn from him where Meidi is hidden. For he will not betray where he has kept her.'

It was little short of madness, Amarin thought, that would permit Noro to think their gentle friend had truly kidnapped his beloved. But such was Noro's opinion of himself in those days; he could not imagine that Meidi would have chosen someone else - certainly not Nihls over himself.

'I will do what I can,' Amarin said. And he needed no tricks to deceive Noro. No man could do aught but what he was able to do - there was no doubt about that. But that did not in any sense mean that he would do what Noro wished.

By the time he came to the prison night had fallen and a chill wind blew through the cracked stones, making all the prisoners shiver. He was admitted begrudgingly by Athar's servants, who knew of him by name, though they had not met one another. As he walked through the prison he could see the sullen faces of those who had fallen under Noro's distrust. A few of them were no doubt inhabitants of Albori who had not taken too kindly to the utter destruction of their city. For all the thousands who were injured by Pelas and his servants, there were always a few who were fortunate enough to have no grievances with the immortal king. Some of these eyed him warily from their cells as he passed. For the most part, however, he was ignored.

'Nihls?' he whispered when at last he came to his old friend's cell.

Nihls was tucked in a corner with his head resting upon his knees. 'Nihls,' he said again, more firmly this time.

'Amarin?' Nihls said as he lifted his eyes in amazement. There was a hopeful look in his eyes, but Amarin could also see a great wariness. He looked like a tame dog that had been so injured that he knew not whether to trust his own master any longer.

'What are you doing here, Nihls?' Amarin asked.

Nihls stared at him for a long while before finally deciding that he could trust him - rather, before deciding that his only hope of accomplishing more than rotting in that cell was to trust him.

'I've come to tell the Enthedu that there is a path out of Bel Albor, and into the work,' he emphasized that last word, 'for which we have been called.'

Amarin looked around him carefully, to make certain none of the guards were in earshot. 'The Enthedu are no more, Nihls. We are the Blest now.'

'You may be of the Blest,' Nihls replied. 'But a wicked Blest might be a true bearer of the words of Theodysus, just as there are many among the Blest who are mighty among their people for being devils.'

Now it was Amarin who was silent, and he also was trying to determine whether or not he could trust himself. 'I am very far from the Enthedu, Nihls.'

'You truly are,' Nihls said sadly, 'if you can say such a thing. Do you not remember that from whatever corner of the world you stand it is but a step into the Kingdom of the Eternal God? Have you forgotten the Hidden Name? Can you take a step without that which is true - outside that which is? You are never parted from it, Amarin. It takes but a step, wheresoever you are to return. Nay, you are already there, you must only know it.'

His voice was pleading, and Amarin suddenly realized that his eyes were tearing.

He looked over his shoulder nervously and then spoke quickly, saying, 'Nihls, listen to me. Wherever you are going, you must bring Ebbe with you. The ways of the Blest will be our death.'

'Where is she, Amarin?' Nihls asked, standing up as though he might walk away from the cell at that very instant.

'She is in Anatheda still, along with Garam and a few others who yet remember the ways of the Enthedu, though none speak of it. Ilnoron is there also,' Amarin added that last part uncertainly. His eyes seemed to bulge with surprise at his own words and he waited nervously for Nihls to respond.

'Shall I make myself what the rumors make me, then, Amarin?' he asked after a pause. 'Do not tempt me brother! Noro is ruled by the Dragon, and he will rule by the Dragon. Do not think that I would not give my own life for Ilnoron. But I do not have a right to take him away from his father.'

'Nonetheless,' Amarin said. 'You will not accomplish anything here. Go to Anatheda and take who will come along with you. I will see you but once more and then I will see that you are released. You will not have long before Noro seeks you. So fly at once westward and then on to wherever you must go.'

'I will go into the south,' Nihls said quietly. 'Beyond the Clefts of Viantin there is a harbor that once was managed secretly by Lord Falruvis. There are ships there. A great number of large vessels that might bear thousands from this land. There are other prisoners here; they must find the harbor as well.'

'Why do you tell me this?' Amarin asked with frustration.

'I am telling you so that you can follow,' Nihls answered, his eyes full of sincerity.

'You are too hopeful, Nihls,' Amarin said, shaking his head glumly.

'Abbon said that one must do what they can, but accept the worst when it comes. Come to the harbor, Amarin,' Nihls pleaded.

'I can't Nihls,' he answered, rising from his knees.

'But why not?' Nihls asked.

'Because I have work to do here,' Amarin replied, turning to leave.

'What do you mean?' Nihls asked. 'What are you going to do?'

Amarin did not answer.

'He will lead us to her straightaway, if we follow him where he goes,' Amarin said as he knelt before the throne of Pelas - in front of Noro. 'If you command him, he will endure any terror before telling you where the Enthedu dwell. You know that as well as I do. He will not betray-' Amarin quickly corrected himself, 'He will not tell you where she is. But if you release him, he will go to her, and we can, by following him, find her again, and your son.'

To Noro's mind it would be no betrayal for Nihls to tell him where his own beloved and his own heir were to be found. To Noro it was a betrayal already that Nihls had not told him at once where he might find them.

'But you have said that he means to leave Bel Albor altogether,' Noro considered. 'Surely it would be folly for me to let him take her and the child away, beyond my grasp altogether. I am not immortal, that I might wait a thousand years before making my pursuit.'

'But I will send him to Anatheda beforehand,' Amarin said. 'And that will give us plenty of opportunity to find the Enthedu. I will send him to rescue Garam from his ale!'

Noro laughed briefly, but quickly turned his thoughts back to the subject at hand.

'And he did not tell you of their dwelling place already?' Noro asked somewhat doubtfully. 'He did not say where the Enthedu are encamped? If indeed enough of them remain to have an encampment.' He scoffed at that last comment.

'I indicated before that he did not,' Amarin said, repeating his answer not for the first time. He did indicate as much, though he had not actually said it. 'But if I release him in good faith, I do not think that he will conceal the truth from me.'

'You do not think?' Noro scoffed. 'What surety is that?'

'If I spoke of a man,' Amarin said, 'it would be none at all. But I am speaking of Nihls; and you know that, though he is a man by sight, he operates with as unwavering a will as nature herself. He will tell me.'

Noro paused as if to consider, and for a moment he looked uneasy, as if he were wondering whether anyone might speak of him as such a man. But in the end he laughed, though uneasily, 'You are right. He would tell you.' He looked at Amarin warily for a moment and then waved a hand is if to wave the entire matter away.

'If this course of action has your approval, then,' Amarin said humbly, 'I will release him; in two days' time he will be on the road, and I might follow him with horsemen to Anatheda or head him off at his destination with a band of warriors.' He might do many things.

Noro suddenly looked surprised. 'You would go? Why should you trouble yourself in this?'

'Why should my lord trouble either himself or his warriors over this matter? I am able to do it. Nihls will not resist me - there is no need for any of your strong men to leave Albori. In two weeks I can return with your heir and your lover, and Nihls again in chains.'

'And why should you not simply join with him and flee also? It is no secret to me at least, Amarin, that you are the sort that prefers to stand upon the border, losing and gaining nothing for all the struggles of greater men.'

Trying his best to look hurt rather than angry, Amarin answered, 'I am telling you that I speak the truth when I say that I will not flee Bel Albor, or fail to do anything that I have suggested to you.'

Suddenly Noro's eyes flashed with rage and he stared at Amarin as if he were gazing at a serpent. His hand strayed toward his spear, which he always kept beside the throne. But long before his fingers reached the weapon he stopped and let his feelings flee from his face.

'I will go,' Noro said.

'But my lord,' Amarin protested. 'You have taken the immortal throne! Who will keep peace and order if you, who broke the elves and their power, but also their order, walks away.'

'Who will keep peace and order WHEN I walk away in death, Amarin?' Noro asked seriously. 'Everything I build will crumble if we do not prepare a kingdom for this land - The Kingdom. Shall I pass the throne to Athar, the mercenary? Or to one of the Teachers, who bend and sway like grass, and fight just as fiercely? The Kingdom requires strength and honor that only Candor's heir can provide. If we are ever to bring the ways of the Blest beyond this realm we must prepare for the conflicts that will, as a matter of course, arise.'

'Very well, my lord,' Amarin said, amused at how well he had predicted his old friend's reaction. 'In two days' time I will release him from his prison cell at midnight, and he will go to Anatheda, and then he will go to her.'

Noro nodded thoughtfully, and this time he could not stop his hand from gripping the shaft of his spear.
[Chapter XII:  
The Nihlion](tmp_d0519039cc618fc5479bfe784f153ef7_rFFocb.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_002.html#toc)

The Spear and the Sword

Nearly two full days before Noro expected, Amarin released Nihls and his companions from their cells, sending Ealan and Ado south toward the harbor in a carriage. He returned Urian and supplied a fresh horse for Thurinn to ride. He also gave his friend a sealed envelope addressed to Ebbe, commanding among other things that she flee with Ilnoron and follow Nihls into the south. Ebbe had become, in all but flesh, the child's mother, and would do whatever Amarin asked to see to the child's safety. He did not tell Nihls what the letter asked, since he knew his friend would not be willing to carry such a message. 'He is yet too hopeful that Noro might by some means be persuaded to give up the power and might he has gained in Alwan,' Amarin wrote to her. 'But you and I have seen too much to think such a thing.'

Nihls made his way to Anatheda quickly, passing along the roads used by the army of the Blest, which were now well trodden and clear. He was accosted by several guards along the way, but Amarin's seal was enough to persuade them that he was not up to any mischief. 'Just a messenger,' they concluded, though they eyed the toothless man Thurinn with suspicion.

When he came to Anatheda, however, he met something he had not in the least anticipated. Amarin himself would never have sent him on this journey had he known how many in Anatheda would be ready to leave Bel Albor. In the end nearly two hundred people departed with him, including all those who had in the old days been known as Teachers. There were many 'Teachers' among the Blest now, but none of them knew the traditions of Thedval, and every one of them was approved and appointed by Noro alone. Garam and Ebbe came also, and Ilnoron with the latter.

They followed a straight path toward the harbor, but their great numbers slowed them.

Noro and a band of his warriors awaited them at the Clefts, just a short ride north of the harbor.

'Is this what the honor of Nihls comes to?' Noro shouted as he and his armed men spread themselves out upon the road. As the Enthedu approached they could see more than a hundred warriors, all mounted and armed with spears in their hands and swords at their hips.

Nihls quickly came to the front, his body shaking but his heart without doubt that he had done as he thought he should have. 'It is true what the reports have said concerning you, Dullsword!'

'Whether they are true or not, brother,' Nihls said, retaining the traditional greetings of the Enthedu, 'these people have chosen to depart Bel Albor, and you cannot justly waylay them - unless you have utterly abandoned not only the name Enthedu, but the Spirit also.'

'The Enthedu have a new name,' Noro replied. 'The Blest are the bearers of the truth now - and they bear it better than your master would have it.'

'I have one master,' Nihls replied. 'The Truth, and whatever you name it, it remains the same. Your Blest, however, are of a different substance. It is fitting, then, that they should have a new name. You know the ways of Thedval, and there are many witnesses here among us who might testify to the same. If you stand against us by force you openly declare yourself in opposition to the people of Theodysus. In which case if you are, despite such a stance, yet to be counted among the Blest - then the Dragon himself, who opposed Theodysus and hated the Hidden Name above all, might very well fit in with your people. That is what you would stand for if you lift a weapon against us.'

'Is he a devil, then, who would retrieve his own son from a theif?' Noro asked, shifting positions in his saddle.

'A thief!?' Ebbe suddenly shouted, pushing herself forward to stand beside Nihls. 'How long has it been since you have even looked at the boy, Noro, master of Bel Albor? You have saved mankind, but what of your own flesh? You have taken everything from the boy for the sake of your ambitions! It is you who is a thief!'

'Bring the boy to me,' Noro demanded imperiously, his knuckles white as he gripped his spear. It was not the same spear he once bore. That weapon had long since been abandoned. But he retained some part of his old weapon each time he had a new spear forged. Some of the iron, at least, remained the same. He now handled it quite skillfully. There was no hint of the young Enthedu who had, once upon a time, taken up a weapon he did not know how to use.

Ebbe started back at Noro's command, realizing perhaps for the first time how completely their old friend had vanished. 'Swallowed by the Dragon,' she thought as she looked at his hateful eyes.

'You are a man of sense, Noro,' Nihls began, stepping forward to shield Ebbe from Noro's threatening gaze. 'That much has always been true. You know there are times when the rules fail us, and we must simply trust to the God that he knows what is best. It is said that a woman must be faithful to her husband, and that she should not abandon him. But when a man tries to murder her, is she then to remain at his side? The old ways of the Enthedu have always understood such things; and there has always been sense to their practice, even if it meant that something less than perfect was the result.'

'The sun flees from us, Nihls,' Noro interrupted. 'We have not time for one of Abbon's lectures.'

'You are a man of sense, Noro,' Nihls repeated. 'You know that you never loved Giretta; how then should we take your abandonment of the child? How shall we understand this except for that, just as you did not love his mother, so also you do not love him. Say what you will, your deeds have already spoken. Giretta has spoken also,' Nihls said, meeting Noro's gaze.

Noro's eyes narrowed as he looked angrily at Nihls. 'What nonsense are you speaking?' he barked.

'Giretta told me to care for the child if she were to die,' Nihls said. 'If doing as a child's mother wished is thievery, then there will be many thieves among the saints in that day when all things become part of the truth again. You are a man of sense, Noro. And is it not sensible that I should care for what you have discarded? But you did not worry about your son's safety before now - and you worry now only because you think his presence among us puts you in the right. In truth you do not even hate me enough to pursue me to this place. It is no secret to the Enthedu that you have sought Meidi now for over two years. You are a man of sense! What else could her reticence mean but that she would not have you for the father of her son! Slay me now, Noro. Go to her! Slay every one of us and take her back to Albori to be your bride - to be queen in Ancient Aedanla's place. You will not thereby win her love. Kill us all, but you will still fail. Your lusts have cost you everything, though you may for a time convince yourself that in the wars of Bel Albor you have proved the victor.'

Noro quivered with rage and then leaped from his horse. The wind howled as he approached, as if the heavens themselves were set in motion by his anger. He took up his spear and thrust it at Nihls, who was barely able to dodge the blow. Finding himself standing beside Ebbe, Noro struck her with the shaft of the spear and knocked her off her feet. He spat and turned his attention to Nihls once more.

Noro's lips quivered with anger and he thrust his spear at Nihls again, this time tearing a gash in his side. Before he could strike again, however, Nihls turned and backed away from him. His sword hung useless at his side, though he wanted very desperately to draw it out. Suddenly Thurinn rushed forward and grabbed Noro from behind, pulling him over onto his back.

'No!' Nihls shouted, just in time to prevent Thurinn from smashing Noro's skull with a rock. The lord of the Blest kicked the toothless man away and motioned for his warriors to attack the Enthedu. He focused his rage, however, on Nihls alone. Thurinn stood up and watched helplessly as Nihls dodged attacks and received blows from Noro's spear shaft. The mounted warriors approached with their spears drawn to kill whoever resisted them.

'Noro!' Nihls shouted. 'There is no need for this! And you know it as well as I do!'

'You are a fool,' Noro bellowed angrily, 'Shall I rest easy in the kingdom knowing that a hundred rebels bear the name of Theodysus falsely?'

'Your whole body is a tongue, Noro,' Nihls said as he circled his opponent, 'what will you say with it? You say Theodysus with your lips, but what of the spear?'

Thunder roared overhead, and rain began to fall. Lightning streaked across the sky in a sudden storm, scattering some of the horsemen and driving some of the animals mad. Watching the horsemen drawing near to the Enthedu Nihls remembered what Meidi had said.

'Do not strike at me again, Noro,' Nihls said. 'I lie not. It may be your death.'

Noro laughed, and a gleam of excitement seemed to pass into his eyes. 'You are a mere man after all then?'

He lunged forward and the head of his spear was turned aside by the dull edge of Nihls' sword. Far from angering him, the sight of the drawn sword seemed to fill him with joy. Noro struck again, but Nihls spun around, letting the dull edge of his sword strike Noro's ribs.

Most of the strength of the blow came from Noro's own attack, but Nihls felt sick suddenly as he considered his own contribution. Moreover, if he wished to survive, he would not outlast Noro by making such slight injuries.

Noro attacked again, this time aiming for Nihls' leg. Nihls leaped in the air and stepped on the shaft just below the blade. As Noro tumbled forward, Nihls lifted his own sword so that Noro ran straight into the dull point. Noro's attack was strong enough that the sword was pushed into his shoulder, releasing a stream of red blood onto his now rain-soaked shirt.

Looking behind him Nihls could see Thurinn watching nervously. In his hand he held a rock, as if he were ready to throw it.

Noro tried to take advantage of his distraction; he thrust his spear forward to pierce Nihls' chest, but the Enthedu caught the spear just as the head cut into him. His hands burned as he held back the full extent of the blow. Blood poured out over his hands and Noro ripped the spear back. He quickly raised his sword and backed away to better defend himself.

'Noro,' he said. 'You are the greater warrior. That no man can doubt. But there are things greater than war.'

'Show me, then, Enthedu,' Noro said, using the old name of their people as a curse. 'If every man lived as the Enthedu live, what justice could there be? Every good man would die at the hands of the wicked and then there would be nothing but blackness.'

'There may be blackness either way,' Nihls replied, his chest rising and falling rapidly for all of his exertions. 'But there is also justice in its purest form: A man suffering wrongfully. For in the victim is endured the punishment of the wicked man. This is why Theodysus suffered the terrors of the Dragon without complaint, and as if it were a punishment for his own ill deeds. For we are one creature. If you kill me today, then I know fully that I am in his hands, even though I know nothing else. But you, as you strive for power and lust, you will never know anything.'

Noro charged, and Nihls cast aside his sword for good.

But of a sudden a single arrow struck Noro through the throat as he rushed forward. Life failed him and he fell to the earth clutching his neck. His eyes raged for a moment with anger and hatred, and Nihls thought he could see the Dragon himself within Noro's eyes. A moment later he was still. Looking around wildly Noro saw Amarin standing off the road to the north upon a stone clutching a bow in his hand. When they saw one another Amarin cast the weapon to the earth and rushed forward. He grabbed Ebbe from the ground and carried her away from the warriors of Noro, who had begun to kill whoever they could reach. 'Flee!' Amarin shouted, and the great mass of people began to run, some fleeing into the wilderness, and others following Amarin and Nihls into the south.

Thurinn pulled one of the warriors from his saddle and leaped upon the horse, taking up the spear to knock still more of Noro's men from their horses. He did nothing more against them, however, and let them flee from the stampeding Enthedu. The sky grew fully dark and water seemed suddenly to pour out over the Clefts and into the road. The ground rumbled and fiery founts burst from the earth.

To the north some said that they could see the lumbering form of a great dragon, the very presence of whom seemed to conjure every sort of thunder, hailstorm and whirlwind into existence.

The people rushed to the harbor and soon were welcomed aboard the ships. Ebbe and a weeping Ilnoron were greeted by Meidi, whose face was pale with worry. She rushed forward, past all the panicked Enthedu to greet Nihls and Amarin. But when she arrived she found them arguing.

'Take care of her, Nihls. Swear to me that you will!' Amarin demanded.

'You know that whatever happens you need no such oath from me,' Nihls replied. 'But that does not make your words sensible.'

'I chose my path,' Amarin said. 'When I loosed the arrow I chose it; and I do not know that I would not choose again to save Ebbe from peril if I had to. I have no place in your ships. Sail, and forget our evils, Nihls. Forget what we have become. What I have become – a killer.'

'There is not a soul among us who is so constant that he will not err. He may even err to the point of death. But so long as there is life within you there is hope - hope that you might once again see the truth. Do not give that up. To repent is to turn from your evil; but you would surrender to it. Perhaps you will err again - nay, you will. Shall you, therefore, cease to struggle? The Enthedu are not made of those who do not err, but of those who, by knowing the Hidden Name, can no longer be destroyed by it. For in the Hidden Name of all things - error is swallowed up.'

'That is enough!' Meidi interrupted, taking Amarin by the hair and dragging him toward the ship. 'The whole harbor is falling apart - we do not have time for your arguments,' she said angrily. 'If you cannot choose aright, I will choose for you.'

As she spoke the rocks above the harbor burst and a stream of water rushed over them, pouring down to the harbor. The flood that stripped flesh from spirit slammed against them and drew them out into the open water. When the chaos had passed, however, they surfaced, whole and untroubled by the dread flow which had made so many ghosts of the immortals.

As small boats were lowered to retrieve them, in the shadow of Bel Albor's death throes, they clung to one another and laughed.

The last of the ships cast off and in the chaos of that storm the Enthedu left Bel Albor and sailed for many weeks into the south, ultimately coming to a bay on the southeast coast of Weldera, from whence they made their way into what we know as Solsis.

Of those who landed in that day some went their own way. Some parted from them in peace, some bitterly, but those who remained took upon themselves the name Nihlion, to forever distinguish themselves both from those who gave chase to the objects of their own private ambitions - these they name 'Omnion' - and from those who falsely lay claim to the name of Theodysus. Among these was the elf Rinin, who, as my reader may have already guessed, founded the city of Rinin and Titalo, where men worship the star Theodysus, but not the truths represented thereby. Though Rinin ultimately fell under the power of Amlaman, and therefore of Agonas, who in our age was called Agonistes, Titalo remains to this day a city devoted to the stars and their goings on. Rinin himself was never accounted for by the elves of old, and it is therefore likely that he met his end a long time before the elves came to dominate the continent of Ilmaria. Undoubtedly Falruvis recognized the name of his old shipmaster, though. Many such names, places and persons existed in the ancient days and perhaps exist even to this day as reminders of what the elves had left behind when they fled the North.

When they landed Nihls enjoined the people to remember everything they had seen and heard in Bel Albor, and to remember always that the struggle against the Dragon, while it must be waged by the word of Theodysus, it is waged not in Bel Albor or in Tel Arie, but within each and every heart, and is not over until the lies of the Dragon have been driven from the soul. 'Truly Theodysus destroyed him,' he said, 'but if we are to enter into his victory we must follow.'

Folly and his brothers watched all of this with great interest.

'You see farther than any of us, brother Death,' Folly said as he rubbed his hands together as if to brush dust off of them. 'What will come of this?'

'We will see when we see,' Death replied coldly. He too had been hard at work. Though his brother Folly had taken upon himself the greater task of guiding the thoughts of the high elves to this end, it was in truth Death alone who oversaw the end and destruction of the Old World. 'All endings belong to me,' he had said, 'but the course thereto is yours.'

'And all other things belong to me,' Old Man Sleep said wearily, as though he was ready for the whole world to come to an end that very moment.

'Two ages yet remain,' Death said. 'The next shall belong to Sleep, and the last will belong to me. But all of us will have our parts to fulfill.'

'There are things mightier than we at work,' Sleep said soberly. 'We must not forget that. The enemy has his hand in all things, whether he is seen or unseen.'

'What enemy do you speak of?' Folly asked, unusually somber for the lord of mirth and madness.

Death said firmly, 'There is no enemy; there cannot be - for there is only what is - and that is the Truth for the sake of which this whole world was raised and then drowned.'

'How then can you speak of an enemy?' Folly laughed, turning back toward his brother Sleep.

Sleep yawned, weary of all things, and said, 'The enemy is not where the Truth is not, but where it is not seen. Until all men see the truth there will be an enemy.'

Death stared out over the rushing waters that now covered Bel Albor. 'This age belonged to you, brother Folly,' he repeated coldly. 'The next to brother Sleep. But all endings belong to me.'

Wolf

Slowly the waters rose and covered the lands of Bel Albor, first swallowing up the wetlands of Lushlin and all the lowlands of Alwan and Sunlan. Finally the mountains succumbed to the waters, save for the very highest of peaks. As the water poured into Ilvas, however, there remained one man alive when all others had either fled or drowned.

Ghastin stared out into the forest at the wolf who had, for many years now, brought him fresh meat to eat. He had grown accustomed to the taste of raw meat, and so bitter and dark were his thoughts that he began to think not of slaying, but of devouring his old enemies.

The waters came to him in the end, however, and he found his soul swept away from his body, carried upon the waves into distant waters. His memories, also, were washed away, save for the names he refused to forget, though a thousand such floods come to take him. 'Amro,' he said to himself sorrowfully, 'Pelas!' he cursed, though he no longer had a mouth with which to shout.

Revere Proud

I need not, nor am I able to recount all the history of the Nihlion. Their own works, which are little by little becoming known to us in Dominas, will tell that tale better than I or any other historian can. Undoubtedly their own histories are as elaborated as our own, and perhaps even as much as that of the elves. That is the nature of history - for men see through eyes, and understand through their own minds all that they experience. Just as a man cannot reason on truths unknown to him, or in a form incomprehensible, so also the historian must record according to his own purposes and perspectives.

The strength of the Nihlion never lay in their attention to historical detail, and if my reader has come to think that anything of consequence depends on this or that aspect of the history now recounted, he has utterly misunderstood all that has been recorded herein. The strength of the Nihlion lies in their devotion to the Truth.

They say above all things that God is holy. But if their God is a being like unto the gods of Kharku or the gods of Vestron, or the Astral Lords of the Knarse, then he is not holy, for he is not holy who is like unto others. So, the Nihlion understand, he alone is holy who is utterly without a partner - and who is utterly unlike anything else. If the God of whom the Nihlion speak is a being like unto us, then we, insofar as we are beings also, are identical in substance to this God - and so if he is a god, then so also are we. But if we are all gods, then none of us are holy.

The only thing that is utterly different from all things is Being.

And so he who would deny the God of the Nihlion must deny the being of being, and so render themselves foolish for speaking and denying in one breath.

Since being represents all things, it cannot, without contradicting some part of itself, be represented by any word or title or be given any quality - and so it is that its name is hidden from us, who must use words to understand all things.

This is, in short, that which was brought into our city by Revere the descendent of Captain Proud, who learned the doctrines from the author of the Wars of Weldera himself. There are now factions and divisions all throughout the city of Lapulia concerning these teachings. Many wish to have the teachings driven out entirely, while there are some who wish to have them replace the ancient doctrines of our own Magi.

Whatever happens, however, let it not be said by our learned men that the teachings of these Nihlion in any way resemble all the superstitious foolery that has been rightly rejected by our fathers hitherto. Rather, let us make sure that we are not clinging to our own superstitions when we examine these novel doctrines.

The Ancient Riddle

It was said of old that the Star Seers could not err. This itself was a superstition, as even our own Magi has now admitted. The Star Seers saw further than other men, but they still saw as men. They saw from their own perspectives, and as perspective is by its very nature a limitation, the Star Seers were kept from the Truth. But though they were not infallible, their words ought never to be ignored, as they are by far more reliable than any history and any modern calculation. It was said that through Captain Proud's line would come the end of our city. And much of the history of the last several thousand years has been devoted to preventing that result.

But it was also said that from his line would come the savior of Lapulia. Is it an accident, though our Star Seers have forseen it, that Revere Proud comes to us now with a truth that saves men rather than towers? The Magi has complained that the teachings of the Nihlion, while laudable in many regards, would make our nation weak and vulnerable. But herein he reveals that he does not believe our own prophecies. For the prophecies say that the Tower will be broken, and perhaps they will be broken by these very doctrines - the doctrines which would take from us the sword and spear that has long protected us, since the doctrines forbid bloodshed.

But the people of Lapulia, who have for so many ages lived their lives striving to save a city that cannot be saved, and to make safe a world that could never be safe - in other words, our people have lived vainly - the people of Lapulia can finally find some kind of peace in knowing that what they see as failure is not so in truth. For the Truth is always as it is, and nothing can change it or move it from its place. And nothing can render its work into vanity.

So I submit to you, my fellow Lapulians, that the ancient Riddle stands solved in our hearing, as the sons of Revere Proud - the sons of Captain Proud himself - continue the work of their father within our city. Our city will decay, and it will fall. Nothing can change that now. But look to the other side of the Riddle and you will have hope.

End of Book V

### About The Author

I was born and raised in New Jersey; and I am New Jerseyan through and through, wherever life may take me.

For Christmas one year my parents bought me a Lord of the Rings computer game. I started playing it and was so inspired by the story that I put the game aside and did not touch it again until I had read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Those books sparked within me a love of reading in general and a love of fantasy literature in particular.

My favorite genre, however, is philosophy, particularly as it relates to ethics and metaphysics. This, together with my love of the fantastic, is the inspiration for my writing.

In my reading I have seen how ideas affect history. For this reason it has been important to me to not simply tell a story, but to show how the characters interact with different ideologies and ethical dilemmas. I want my readers to at least understand, even if they do not sympathize with, the villains of the story.

If you've enjoyed this book, please like the Punishment of the Gods facebook page at:

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For the author's blog, please visit here:

<http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6949089.Jake_Yaniak/blog>
