The Keeper of Tales

by Jonathon Mast

  A cold wind began to rage against the elf’s face as he continued to speak. “And two brave heroes went to the Floodgates below, to release the waters once again. They stepped into depths deeper than any dared to tread. They bore the hope of all people.”

  Tor spoke as well. “One kneels now, uttering hopes and dreams, that the waters may be released even as he speaks.”

  A great rumbling as if boulders were crashing together growled throughout the cavern. The floor vibrated.

  The Kaerun were still approaching. Their whispering had not ceased. “You will be remembered, Adal. Oh, yes. They will tell stories of you. Stories of the one that brought about the destruction of all the lands. The deaths of so many. It will be your fault. You will be the new force of darkness, the one hunted until the end of time because of what you did.”

  I smiled. “I know that no one can stop you. I recognize that. But water cleanses. It even wipes away tales. And we stand upon it now. Yes, you can destroy me. But we will open the Floodgates first.” My blade was raised toward them, but now I spun it so it pointed to the floor. I thrust it down into the obsidian with all my might. It broke through the rock and sunk down to the hilt. I withdrew the blade. It was wet.

  Tor continued. “And now, let the waters upon which the world rests, the waters from which the world was formed, the waters that cleansed the world once before, let them burst forth again. Let them wash this world clean!”

  Karen Cordolis watched from a nearby toppled bench. She screamed, “Goblins got past the griffins! Get in here, you jackanapes!” And then she called: “You!”

  Daragen heard and turned from the defense of the stairs. He sprinted into the Colonnade. Goblins were about to fall upon the elf. Daragen hurled a single dagger that planted itself in the eye of one of Yolian’s assailants. He rushed into another one, thrusting his other dagger deep into flesh while grabbing his foe’s blade away from him.

  He turned to face a third form—not a goblin. A stunning woman.

  Daragen froze. “Thelis,” he said.

  “I came with the armies. I was abandoned here when they all left.” She rushed to him. “Keep me safe. Please.” She fell into his embrace.

  “I thought you didn’t wait for me,” Daragen said. “I thought I had been gone too long.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “You doddypoll!” Karen Corolis screamed. “It’s that jezebel!”

  And in my vision, I finally saw who it was. Delia, the bride of Thesairh, who had been sent to soften the Graz. She’d been brought to Chariis and left there.

  Daragen cried out as her dagger sunk into his back. He fell to the ground.

  A third goblin began climbing a column, out of the range of the shorter man’s arms. More goblins reached the Colonnade, scurrying over the edge of the cliff as another griffin soared by, narrowly missing with its claws.

  On the stairs the battle continued, but now the companions were pushed back, step by step, stair by stair. Abani danced with wild abandon, and her ghostly companion was with her the entire time. They sang a joyous duet. Korah now fought with his blade as more goblins came within his reach. Galatea had taken up his harpoon and speared goblin after goblin. Lazul roared with laughter as he swung his axe, felling foes like saplings.

  The rumbling at the Floodgates continued, but now the Kaerun were upon me. I swung my blade at the first, and it struck true. The creature leaped back, blood the color of the floor we stood on leaking from its arm. Three others fell on me quickly, but my blade sang. I thrust savagely. The moisture that coated the blade was working. It wasn’t killing them, but it was hurting them.

  Tor continued his story. “As he spoke the vaults of the deep trembled, and water began to leak out from tiny fissures in the stone. The waters longed to be released, and they pounded against their prison.”

  Daragen glanced at Delia. “Excuse me, princess. Goblins.” He evaded here embrace and slew an approaching goblin.

  The Colonnade shook.

  Yolian continued the story. He couldn’t stop, even as the jezebel turned from Daragen’s form to stalk toward him. “The entire world shook, as the waters struggled ever more to be released from where they had been penned in at the creation of the world.”

  Karen Cordolis screamed invective at Delia.

  The stairs shook again, and Abani faltered in her dance. A goblin stabbed her as her back was turned, and Abani fell. Korah slew the goblin that had struck, but too late. The ghostly man cradled her on the stair as the dwarf and the Spireman moved to protect their fallen comrade. Galatea stood her ground, blocking the way to the Colonnade.

  Abani finally saw the man who had haunted her for so long. Her lips turned into a faltering smile as she gazed up into his face. “Badani. You’re here.”

  “Shush, my love. It is not good that you see me.”

  “You’ve stayed by my side,” she said with wonder.

  “We dance ever together. Now be well. You must aid your companions.”

  “I failed you.”

  “No. Do not be ashamed of yourself. You never shamed me. Never.” And he cradled her body and sang.

  Delia raised her bloody knife, ready to plunge it into the elf. She raised the blade.

  She cried out and fell.

  Behind her, Daragen stood, gasping for breath. Blood leaked from his wound and down his back.

  Karan Cordolis ordered, “Sit! I’ll try to stitch you up!”

  Daragen shook his head. “Too many goblins. You can take care of me after.”

  “You’ll tear your wound, jobbernowl!”

  Daragen shrugged as he flung another dagger at another goblin.

  A Kaerun raked a claw across my arm, leaving lines of frost on my skin. I thrust at him with my blade. Water pooled on the ground, and the Kaerun no longer looked comfortable nor confident. One rushed past me. I turned and hurled Northwind at him with a cry. My arms screamed in pain. The cold of the water seeped into my legs. I struggled for breath.

  The blade struck my target in the back, sinking into pale flesh. I lunged at the blade, pulling it out. I used the momentum to slice a wide arc, striking at three others that were near me. They all screeched.

  Abani braced herself against the rock wall of the stairs, drawing her blade. “Let me pass, friends. My dance is not yet done. And there is one I would dance with.” Lazul obeyed, and the dancer waded into the swarming goblins.

  Her silks were stained red, but she knew no pain. She had been freed of a great burden. She smiled as the rains came. Her blade flashed quicker than I had ever seen it move. Her feet no longer danced a dirge but a joyous love song. And her eyes. They could see her husband. They could see Badani, the one she thought she had failed. She could see that what had been her shame for so long should never have been her shame. She saw that he loved her still and would truly dance with her until she danced no longer on this earth.

  In the Colonnade, Yolian saw that Daragen was dying. The wound tore wider, wider, but Daragen kept moving, kept fighting. He hurled more and more daggers as goblins continued climbing over the edge. He did not stop to rest.

  Neither did Yolian. “The rains poured down, and they began to wash the lands clean of all filth.”

  What before had been a sprinkle began the Deluge in earnest. As the waters struck the goblins, they screamed in pain and began to retreat. Abani moved to give chase, but Korah stopped her. “We must go to the Colonnade.”

  They found Daragen lying in a pool of blood, his eyes fading.

  Large fissures began to form beneath my feet. The Kaerun were clearly in great pain as the waters continued to rise. A film of ice spread out from them. The water was very, very cold, yet we struggled on in the trembling cavern far below the earth.

  Tor had not stopped speaking. “And so, the waters came from below and from above. They filled the earth and left none alive. They wiped all the lands clean!”

  And there it was. Left none alive.

  He had spoken the words that doomed the worl
d as surely as the Kaerun did.

  He struggled to stand and called to me, “Adal! We must flee!”

  Yes. Yes, we did. I had to get above and tell a different story. I had to turn back his words. I turned and ran for the grove which still stood on the shore. Icy hands raked at my back, but I ignored the pain.

  Tor turned as he reached the entrance of the grove. He waited for me to plunge in first, and he shouted at me. “Go above! I will stay here to prevent them entering the grove until it is gone!”

  I knew in that moment that this had been his plan all along. If he sacrificed himself, if he died, he wouldn’t become the next Fallen Lord.

  The next age would not have a Fallen Lord. It would truly be a new age.

  If any survived. I had to move quickly. I had to speak a new ending to this tale before the waters rose. I struggled through the thicket to reach the creature again.

  Though my back was turned, I saw Tor’s sacrifice. He stood before the Kaerun as the cavern continued to tremble. Here and there, water erupted into great geysers, sending up columns of rushing water with a force greater than even a dwarf’s hammer.

  Tor smiled. “I have borne these stories as a burden for many, many harvests. Had you come as allies, I might have welcomed you. Instead, you sought to destroy everything. And now, you will be destroyed instead.”

  The Kaerun drew in on him, their bleeding hands reaching. A geyser loosed the waters on them. They dissolved in bursts of blue flame. Tor had broken the cycle. No more Fallen Lords. The last I saw of Tor was his smile.

  In the Colonnade, all the companions stood together in the pounding rain. The ground continued to tremble, but they paid no attention to it. The crest of a great wave arched over Chariis. I saw Yolian’s lips moving, but I could hear no words.

  The creature saw me as I burst into the clearing. “You loosed the waters?” it asked.

  “Yes. Take me back to the top of Raumioch Beti. Quickly! I might be able to stop it before any innocents are drowned. The Kaerun are destroyed.”

  “I think not. I have been forced to hide in the shadows for so many years and see my children destroyed and hunted by all the other races. Now, I think, I will let them all perish. Now, I think, it is time for you and all your stories to be slain. Let the waters drown the world. Let it perish.”

  The creature grew before me, its form broadening. “Now that you have cleared the world of everyone, including the Kaerun, I can start over. The water will go down eventually, even without your aid, and I will repopulate the earth.” Its claws lengthened. Its eyes turned red.

  I once again brandished Northwind. The blade shook. I could not fight long, if at all. “Creature, do you know I could bind you to a story? I could bind you to a form, even now?”

  It moved at blinding speed. Its hands were about my neck. It lifted me off the ground and thrust me against the wall of branches. It squeezed my throat so I could not speak. “I think not, Keeper of Tales. I know your power all too well.”

  I had to get free. If I didn’t stop the waters, all the world would be covered with them, and not even those who fled to the heights would be spared. I struggled, trying to bring my blade to bear. The creature knocked it out of my hand. I shoved against the wall with all my might. The beast was stronger. Voids formed in my vision.

  Suddenly, another form leaped onto the beast’s back. It did no damage, but it distracted the creature enough to loosen its grip. I could breathe.

  I blurted, “The beast wished to keep as many of its children alive as possible.” It was simple, but it was enough. The words formed a chain and wrapped their way around the creature’s head.

  The creature threw off its attacker. It turned on me. “That does not mean I want you to live.”

  “If you kill me, more of your children die. Every second you wait, more goblins drown.”

  The beast howled in rage. It pointed. “Go! Take your friend. It is no child of mine!”

  I snatched up my blade and went to the pale form lying on the ground. Its arms twitched in pain, but it was alive. I held out my hand to my ally. “Come on. We need to get out of here quickly.”

  Badron didn’t take my hand but scurried into a crouching position before scrabbling to the hole in the wall. It glanced back over its shoulder at the nameless beast. “I am sorry, mother. I have sworn an oath to another.”

  The beast did not answer as we exited the grove.

  As we went, I spoke, “Badron, I’m sorry.”

  Its rasping voice answered, “There a greater service I give, so that when you came back from below you would live.”

  We rushed from the thicket atop Raumioch Beti.

  It was twilight now, but it had been dawn when Tor and I had entered the thicket. “How long was I down there?”

  “Mother’s home knows no time. There is no reason, nor no rhyme.”

  I ran to the edge of the tooth, past Kae’A, to look out onto the world. I saw a vast ocean that knew no bounds. The water nearly reached us where we stood.

  Despair overcame me. “No! It’s too late.” Tor’s words rang in my head: Left none alive... left none alive.

  Badron’s pale hand gripped my shoulder. “No! Speak the words! Save the other lords!”

  I did as Badron asked. “And so, the world was cleansed of the evil that had tried to destroy it. All was as it should be, except for the waters that covered the earth. They receded then, returning to the depths from which they had come. They drained back to the Floodgates below, where they were locked away until the end of the world.”

  I watched, but I couldn’t see any effect my words might have had. Perhaps the water began to recede a little. Perhaps not. But the unnamed creature had been right. They would do that on their own eventually. My words made no difference.

  I sobbed the last words of my story. “All those who fled the waters were saved. Those who fought for Chariis were safe. They all lived.”

  My words echoed in my own ears but didn’t reach my heart. I was too late. My words were useless. I waited for the vision to return to me, to show me the end of the tale.

  No vision came.

  Here was the end of the tale: an endless sea. I was alone. I had destroyed the world.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Badron, Kae’A, and I watched the waters. They had nearly drowned the Teeth themselves, and the Teeth stood taller than even the Spires. There was no hope. I was the last man. Some may have survived, clinging to wreckage, I supposed. But even so, how long would they last without aid?

  I sent Kae’A to search for any survivors, but I did so with a heavy heart. I feared what he would find.

  Badron and I built a fire, but its heat did not reach me. I clutched myself and closed my eyes. I could see their faces. I saw Korah, who had survived so much, only to drown. I saw Galatea, reunited with a new love in death. I saw Cerulean, who had sacrificed herself twice for nothing. I saw my wife, who died without her husband. My arms trembled. I fell forward onto my knees. I heard choking sobs and knew they were my own.

  Because I had trusted the stories again. Because I thought the Deluge would save us all. Because—

  —Because I was an old fool who wanted stories to be real.

  My fault. The guilt of the world’s death fell on me.

  The night sky heard my wail. I mourned the world. I mourned myself. I was the one who was supposed to die. We thought we could save everyone. I thought I’d be the only one sacrificed.

  I was wrong.

  I dreamed that night of restless waters.

  ***

  Come the morning, I was restless. After so many days and weeks of constant activity, and now to have come to the end of it, I didn’t know what to do. I should have been exhausted, and I was, but to sit still was beyond my ability. I spent the day pacing around our little island, the Tooth on which we were stranded. I stared out over the waters trying to determine how far they had fallen. Somewhere to the west lay Ban Maraseth, washed clean now. To the east, Chariis, destroyed.


  I longed for the stories to return to me, to show me some hope remained in the world. Of course, none came. The stories were gone.

  I threw Northwind into the waters. Useless. I sorted through the contents of my pack, though I didn’t know what I hoped to find there. I searched the skies for Kae’A or other griffins. Nothing. I was alone.

  Well, not quite alone: Badron was still here. At some point it sidled up next to me as I sat staring at the waves. “Master, tell the tale. Tell me the story of where it began.”

  Tell the tale? Yes, I supposed even after all this, I was still a storyteller at heart. And this was perhaps the last tale to tell, the last audience to hear it.

  So that’s what I did. Over the next few days, I told Badron of the world it had never known. I taught it blessings. I told it the stories of my brave companions.

  I told it how Abani’s husband had sacrificed himself to save her, but even then, refused to leave her side. They danced an eternal duet that would last until there was no more song.

  I told it how Daragen had loved the laughter of a girl and pledged himself to marry her when he returned home. And how he had returned home too late.

  I told it of Lazul’s monument of an empty cave.

  I told it how Korah, youngest son and unexpected joy, had obtained his cloak and badge of manhood.

  I told it how Galatea embraced life with a joy that knew no fear.

  I told it how Cerulean had trespassed on the forbidden for love, and was punished for it.

  I told it why Yolian was so different from other elves, though Yolian himself had never known that story.

  Badron listened well. It soaked in the stories like a child.

  It was my funeral for them. As I spoke, though, I could not create the stories as I did when I thought Korah had fallen. There were no tales left in the land. They held no power any longer.

  What I had wanted, at the price of the world.

  The waters fell. At the end of the fourth day the tops of mountains appeared in the distance.