Part III:
Allimer was a Prince of the elves, an heir that would never see the throne for he had a father that would never die. The elves of the Grey Lands did not die of natural causes such as old age or disease, but could die by violence. They would live as long as time itself and then like all other souls must then face the consequences of their decisions, but for a time that inevitability seemed quite remote. Some had been there at the Beginning when the worlds were forged, man rebelled, and then they themselves had crossed the River and had dwelt apart ever since. They wanted nothing to do with either the King or the Enemy or Men but preferred to live by their own laws and in their own way. The various kinds of Fairyfolk were governed by their own kin and lived by their own laws, but in all matters that involved more than one race, the elves were the race to which the final decision fell. Thus had they lived for centuries and so were they happy to live until the End of Days.
They lived apart and considered themselves wiser than either the Enemy or the King and considered men a lesser race and a nuisance. The servants of the Enemy and the King were ignored as much as possible while men who were foolish enough to enter the Fairy Wood were dealt with cruelly and swiftly. Their kin that yet lived across the River had no contact whatsoever with them and were considered something akin to mankind in their infancy of mind that would allow themselves to live willingly under the dominion of the King. Those few among them that actually wished to seek the King were shunned by all their relations and usually crossed the River in despair, for they no longer found solace among their own kind in the Grey Lands. The Enemy bothered little about them for they would one day be his without any effort on his own part, save in encouraging them to rebel in the first place. The King sent his servants but they were ignored or killed to no avail.
Occasionally the occupants of the Fairy Wood, especially the restless youngsters or more nefarious elders, would stray from their own realm and go wandering in the lands of men, seeing what mischief they might cause or what adventures they might have. Men feared those woods with good reason for few who went in came out, and none unchanged by the encounter. Such were the tales of chance encounters with such folk that some thought it all a myth while others feared to go much beyond the borders of their own village. Adventurers and young men often ventured into those woods hoping to find themselves the hero of some tale but more often the only tale told was of a quick and tragic end. There were rumors of gold and beautiful elven maidens lurking aplenty in those woods but few were those brave or mad enough to see if the tales were true.
Such was the world in which Allimer found himself. He had no great future ahead of him and as a son of royalty he had no lack of wealth and respect and influence. He had no challenge or interest or purpose in life. He was bored. Finally the day came when he could stand it no longer and approached his father saying, “my heart is not content to linger here in luxury and safety or I shall go mad. I wish to go abroad (by which he meant to leave the Fairy Wood and wander about in the lands of men for a time).”
His father said, “as you wish it my son, so shall it be. I look forward to hearing of your adventures. It is always amusing to hear tales of how men react to our intrusions into their lands. Farewell.”
The boy bowed and went to prepare for his journey. He and his dearest friend meant to ride forth together and see what the wide world held for them. The other boy was of common birth but that mattered little to the prince, for he cared nothing for such distinctions. They mounted their horses and rode off into the growing day, eager to see what life was like beyond the cloistered forest. Unlike many of their kin, they did not hold men in complete contempt but would rather see these strange creature for themselves and then make up their own minds upon the matter. They had many minor reasons for going, but the main reason that they allowed no one, most of all themselves, to know was that they were not content with what they knew of the history of their people and their deepest held beliefs. They wanted to go out and see if they could discover for themselves if there was a deeper truth in the world or if it was just as everyone assumed it to be. They were many days upon the road before they came out of the territory held by the Fairyfolk into lands more hospitable to men. Each wore a floppy hat that hung down and covered their ears that men not see that they were anything but strangely tall, lithe, and pale folk.
They finally came to a village upon a market day and watched curiously as all the various folk frantically hastened from place to place, laughing, yelling, singing, bargaining, complaining, and all the other frenzied activities found in such a place at such a time. Such a chaotic and hectic ordeal was never seen among the more noble Fairyfolk and would have been sneered upon by more lofty minds, but the two youths found the whole ordeal strangely charming. Evening fell and they found themselves drawn to the inn where the locals had retired after the tumult of the day. They found a table, procured some of the local ale and provender, and listened in astonishment as a man by the fire told tale after tale to the gathered throng. They were amused to hear supposed tales of their own race and fellow Fairyfolk, but this made them wonder at all the rumors held to be true about men among their own folk. What if it was a mutual misunderstanding? What else had been misconstrued, misunderstood, ignored, or forgotten by the Fairyfolk over time? The storyteller finally grew weary of speaking and withdrew to his room after collecting the coins generously donated by the grateful patrons for his efforts. Another man stood, this one in his middle years though he seemed far older, for his had not been an easy life.
He began to speak also, but though his was a quieter manner his words were far more fervent. He spoke of the Great King and the Enemy and their unending war for the souls of men and the Last Day and of many other things that deeply troubled the hearts of the two vagabonds. Some of the patrons scarce paid heed while others could not draw themselves from his words. Some cheered, more booed, most just ignored the man. He finished his soliloquy and withdrew to a private corner where a few gathered with many questions. The hour was growing late when the last of his questioners withdrew and only he, the innkeeper, and the two young elves remained in the common room. The innkeeper obliviously went about the last of his evening chores and the two finally approached the one. He eyed them curiously but said nothing.
They studied one another for many minutes before finally Allimer spoke, “are you simply a storyteller, as was the man who preceded you telling myth, history, and legend only to earn your keep, or are you a man of the truth?”
The man smiled good naturedly and said, “I know I speak truly lad but whether you accept what I say as truth is your choice to make. Some see me as much a teller of tales as that other fellow. Are you curious, skeptical, adamantly opposed, or a fervent believer?”
The elf prince for a moment felt insulted to be called ‘lad’ by a creature only a few decades old when he himself had lived for centuries, but then he remembered the man would not know that so allowed the feeling to pass but not unperceived by the man. Allimer said, “we are seekers after truth my good man. We as yet do not know what to believe. All our lives we have heard one thing defined as truth and tonight we hear something altogether different. How is one to know?”
The man laughed warmly, “an excellent question and all I can say is listen to the evidence, weigh it in your mind, and then decide yourself if it is truth or folly, but ware, for it is the most important decision you shall ever make.”
“How come you to believe, nay not only believe but to preach this matter regardless that others might consider you a fool?” asked the prince.
The man said, “I have more regard for what the King shall think of me than what any man can say about me or do to me. I once thought as you, that it was all myth and wishful thinking, but I have come to see differently and know it to be true. I know men who have willingly died for such ideas and a nobler death I know not. I have seen others abandon everything to serve the King and a l
ife of greater purpose one cannot imagine. I have seen great and wonderful things in my life but also tragic and terrible, but even in the darkest night I know that in the end all that is right and good shall triumph and this interminable night is but a passing shade.”
The prince and his friend were impressed by the man’s passion and Allimer asked, “and what is it to serve this King of yours?”
The man said, “each man’s service is different I suppose. Some are Wanderers such as I, nomads who go from place to place spreading word of what the King has done for us, or perhaps we stay somewhere that is never quite home, for ours is not a mortal country but lies beyond the River. Others stay where they are and live quietly loving their neighbors and raising their families and serving the Master as they might. Then there are those strange folk who abandon all, including mortal life, to serve their King with all their heart and being. These mysterious men are called the Messengers and ride at the behest of their Lord to defend the innocent against the predations of the vile minions of the Enemy.”
Allimer was curious, “they speak little of such emissaries of the King in my lands, for such men are considered beneath our notice but you speak of them highly.”
Warde’s eyes lost their focus for a moment as his mind wandered to years long gone and said, “many would call them fools but the world would be a dark place indeed if not for their aid to mortal men, for none else can stand against the minions of darkness, yet they hold back the tide that men may yet live in relative peace and safety, at least from such powers as that. I met one of them once, long ago. In former days he had been something of a friend but then he disappeared, only to reappear in ignominy, whereby he shook the whole city. He vanished once more and we all thought him dead, but when he returned for the final time he saved the kingdom from a terrible plot at great cost to himself. Yes I will speak of them with respect, for I owe him my life and the greatest thanks. One lifetime is enough for me to live, I think he shall serve until the very end of time yet never find rest or a home, though he could certainly cross the River at the time of his choosing.”
Allimer was intrigued and said, “I would be honored to meet such a person. How does one arrange such a meeting?”
Warde shook his head, “that I cannot say. They hardly know themselves where their next assignment will take them or when. But I think if you seek them with pure intention perhaps your prayer shall be answered.”
The elves retired for the evening and wondered at the strange man’s words. As they lay in their blankets under all the stars of heaven, Allimer said to his companion, “what think you of this man and his tales?”
His companion yawned and said, “there is truth in his words, you can feel it. Or at least you can feel that he thinks all the world of what he says. These are words to make a soul quake and yet dare to hope. What of you?”
Allimer smiled vaguely up at the starry host and said, “I think my father would be ashamed of me yet I feel ashamed of the way our folk have behaved since the beginning if all our history be true! We think ourselves the epitome of all created things yet we did not create ourselves. How can we hold our Maker in disdain when we must certainly be less than He? Is this not the same spirit of rebellion that drove the Dark One from the presence of the True King? Where he was cast aside, our people chose to walk away. We are a race of arrogant fools if all this be true. I must learn more, but I think already it has snared my heart and will soon gladly consume my whole being.”
His companion said, “your thoughts are an exact echo of my own. Let us learn more and oh, that it could be I that returns to our people and tells them that which they need most to hear.” Allimer said nothing but smiled thoughtfully before sweet sleep fell upon him.
Morning came as morning has since that first bright dawn and warmed the face of the sleeping prince. He opened his eyes and greeted the new risen morn with a smile and a hope he had not known before. Finally, he thought he had found a purpose not only for himself but for all creation and all things beyond. Allimer’s companion had wandered off some distance by himself and sat beside a little chattering brook, lost in thought. He looked up when his concerned friend wandered over and placed a questioning hand on his shoulder. He looked into the prince’s worried eyes and said, “I have sat up half the night and all the morning and know what I must do but I fear you will think me a fool. I would follow this Wanderer wherever he goes for a time, learn all that he has to teach me, and then I will return to our people and tell them that which they refuse to hear from any other source.”
Allimer smiled and said, “I had come to tell you something that I thought you would call foolish but now I see that I am the fool to be so thinking. That which you wish to pursue is no small matter and a thing needful to our people. I wish you well my friend, for all the future hopes of our people certainly rest upon your shoulders. I fear my future lies along another path than yours. I want to find one of these Messengers and learn the truth of their service.” Each looked long into the gaze of the other and what passed between them said more than words ever could. They parted then, each to follow his own path. Feladon sought out and was eagerly welcomed by the Wanderer, though Warde was quite surprised to learn the true nature of his new pupil; he was quite eager to see what might result from such an adventure. Allimer rode off alone to see if he might not find one of these legendary men.
He rode in silence for three days but saw no one. Finally he came to another village where he reluctantly took a seat in the back of the common room and watched hopefully but his heart had begun to despair of ever learning the truth of that which he had so eagerly set forth to learn. He had been three days alone and he missed Feladon acutely, he missed the familiarity of his own folk, and he was beginning to doubt the seed of hope that had only begun to grow in his heart. He began to feel himself a fool for ever undertaking this adventure, let alone for believing the man and abandoning his reason and his only friend in this strange world he found himself in. If there were some all powerful King, could He not keep such feelings from afflicting the hearts of earnest souls?
“You look troubled,” said a plainly dressed man standing next to his table. Allimer started at the voice and glanced around at the empty common room, wondering why the fellow chose to bother him and not find his own seat elsewhere. “May I sit down?” asked the stranger. Allimer nodded vaguely, not really caring what the man did so long as he was left to ponder in peace. He had not expected such a mythic person to jump out of the trees before him but neither had he expected to feel so utterly alone. He sighed and was surprised to find himself eye to eye with the stranger.
“What is it you want?” asked the exasperated elf.
The man smiled in secret amusement and said, “that is an excellent question, but I am afraid that I will not know until you tell me what it is that is troubling you.”
The elf stared in surprise, “you want me to reveal my heart to a complete stranger?”
The man laughed, “you certainly need to speak to someone, desperately by the look of you, and I see no close relative or other confidant about thus I must do.”
The elf could not help but smile at the man’s curious logic. He said, “I suppose you have the right of it. Though you may think me mad, I shall unburden my heart upon you but remember it is a burden you asked to bear.” The man nodded encouragingly and the elf began, “I am of royal blood and becoming dissatisfied with life as I knew it, I set out with a friend to seek adventure and knowledge in lands strange to me. Upon an evening we heard a man telling strange tales and our hearts were moved. My friend went with that teller of tales to learn more that he might then carry what he had learned back to our impoverished people. I wished him well and went in search of truth as well, but find myself alone, discouraged, and regretting my rash decision. I begin to wonder why I ever felt such hope and was so eager to abandon all my former wisdom and even my kin.”
The man
said, “discouragement and disillusionment are bound to follow such hope and eagerness as sure as night follows day. You cannot expect a simple feeling to last forever for they are as unyielding as the tides in their ever changing and shifting patterns. Your hope will be renewed as will the eagerness come again but you must not be dismayed when your hope grows dim or your purpose cold. Cling to what you know to be true and even in the darkest night you will not be led astray and morning shall come again and joy with it.”
The prince smiled saying, “you speak well for a stranger and seem to know well the hearts of men.”
Bryant laughed, “even the heart of an elf it seems.”
The elf winced, “is it that obvious? Why are you not afraid?”
The man smiled, “most folk would not be looking to see an elf thus your hat will be disguise enough but I assume nothing and therefore cannot be so easily fooled. Why should I fear one who comes in peace?”
The elf sighed, “you are a very strange man.”
Bryant nodded as if this were certainly true and the elf laughed to see him take no offense. “What is it you seek?” asked the man.
The elf sighed, “I have trusted you this much, so perhaps I can risk looking even more a fool before you. I seek to learn more of a mysterious folk known as the Messengers. Know you anything of them?”
The man smiled mysteriously and said, “I think I could answer a few questions pertaining to them.”
Allimer smiled and said, “that is good, for I was beginning to think them a myth!”
The man laughed, “but they are a myth. At least to most men, for few see them and even fewer know the truth of them. But then elves too are often considered just as mythic by most folk. What would you know of such a legend?”
Allimer said, “what are they? Who are they? How do I find them should I wish to join them?”
Bryant said, “brave questions but I shall answer as I may. The Messengers are those who choose to devote their entire being in service to the King. He sends them where He will, when He will. Their whole purpose becomes to fulfill His wishes in various matters, which usually means confronting all the evil and vile servants of the Enemy in all their myriad forms and schemes. It is no easy life for they are not spared pain, sorrow, and shame but ever is the joy and hope of the Master within them also. They have tasted of the River and therefore cannot die but not having crossed the River are yet vulnerable to all the griefs of this present age.”
He continued, “only those with a fervent desire to serve their King in all things dare such a life but it is one well spent. They come from all lands and all peoples and any with a humble and fervent spirit can seek to ride among them. To join them you must take the Road and come successfully to its end; ware however, for it is not a journey taken lightly for it will try you severely and may even cost you your life. If you decide to take that path you abandon all you once held dear to seek a higher calling; above all you must never leave the Road else you will not find it again. Many tricks and traps abound upon it and many are those who have fallen afoul of them.”
Allimer’s eyes were wide but he now knew that it was for this he had left his home and all his life behind. He said, “tell me how to find this Road and I shall tread it.”
Bryant said quietly, “just go out the door and follow the road you find there and it will lead you true.”
Allimer did not understand in the least but was sure that he must accomplish this strange feat. He spent much of the night asking questions of the man regarding the King, and well into the late watches of the night was firmly convinced of the truth. He said, “when shall I begin this journey?”
The man said, “right now.” Allimer would have dearly loved a few hours of sleep but he dared not deny the sage that stood plainly clad before him. He thanked the man profusely, found his horse, and was off into the night. Bryant watched him go with a curious smile upon his face and then vanished himself.
Erian stood outside waiting for him and asked, “well?”
Bryant laughed at his old friend’s comment and said, “our mission is finished for the night but what shall come of it only the boy knows.”
Erian rolled his eyes, “he is centuries older than you.”
Bryant nodded, “but he is still a boy by the standards of his people, whereas I am finally considered something of a man by the standards of mine. I think it has been at least thirty years since we set out together upon the Road.”
Erian snorted, “considering that time is of no matter to you and that you no longer age, I think your conjecture quite ill founded.”
Bryant laughed with his friend but before he could mount, found Garren standing beside him. These sudden appearances and disappearances of friends, the shifting of surroundings, and the erratic movements of time no longer confused or even surprised him; it was simply a normal part of the world in which he lived. They greeted one another warmly, Erian nodded regally to Sebiki, who yawned lazily in return. Bryant asked with a grin, “now what trouble have you come to embroil me in or rescue me from?”
Garren smiled at his jest but soon sobered as he said, “your adventurer may be in for more than he bargained for. The Enemy is quite determined that none of his race should enter service with the Messengers and is setting his minions upon the Road to ensure that it does not happen. There are worse than Dreadlords upon the Road. You must ride escort without letting him know that you do so. Keep the fell servants of the Enemy from him but leave him in peace to succeed or fail at the tasks set before him. I am off to ward the boy’s friend and the Wanderer he has taken up with, for the Enemy is even more opposed to him learning what he must and returning to his benighted people. Farewell.” Bryant exchanged a startled look with Erian and took hard to the Road after the elf.
They easily caught the elven lad, who saw them not for the speed of their travel. They cleared many servants of the Enemy from the Road that night, but they would come again and there were certainly others of a more insidious nature they had failed to discover even with the keen sight granted them in such matters. The Road cleared ahead and behind, the ever watchful pair shadowed the boy for several days as he rode and as he slept, to see that no fell thing came upon him not native to the Road, for they would not and could not interfere in that testing. He must succeed or fail as he would but they would not let the Enemy aid in the latter. Erian could pass easily through the tangled wood along the Road, for the brush hindered him as little as walls his rider if he put his mind to it. This offered ample cover that they might watch for ambush or a trap yet did not allow the elf to know of their presence. The boy had faced and overcome several challenges in the ensuing days and now slept soundly while his hidden guardians warded his rest.
A sudden movement or perhaps a shifting shadow or a light where none should have been suddenly alerted Bryant to a new threat upon the boy’s safety. Mortal eyes could never have seen such a thing and even his had difficulty in seeing the creatures though he knew them there. The Grimok was perhaps the most devious and deadly of the servants of the Enemy. Their strange hide reflected all light or perhaps it bent around them, but one way or another they could not be seen, merely sensed by those so able. They were very able assassins and the Enemy used them when all other means failed. Whatever their true form, it was known they carried a deadly venom that killed the victim within seconds; there was no known antidote nor could one be administered in the time before death ensued.
Bryant slid from Erian’s back, sword bared. He struck blindly but felt his blade strike flesh. Even the screams of the creatures could not be heard. First one, then the other thudded heavily to the ground and then even the corpse somehow dissolved or vanished leaving no trace the things had ever been. Allimer shifted uneasily in his sleep but did not waken or even know he had been in terrible danger. A sudden pain flared in Bryant’s shoulder, as if he had been clipped by an arrow, a small patch of red upon h
is tunic betrayed the fact. A sudden weakness overwhelmed him, as if he tried to uphold the whole earth upon his shoulders, but he dutifully scanned the area, looking for the source of the fell shaft. He caught sight of a fleeing form and gave chase but felt as if he were trying to run through thick mud.
A Dreadlord stood upon the Road, as if waiting for his pathetic pursuer to catch up. “So it is again,” laughed the Dreadlord, “turn for turn, we are equal.” Bryant gave him a dumbfounded look, half out of exhaustion and half from confusion. The Dreadlord scowled, “know you not the face of your foe? It is Ephod you fool! As you did to me I now do to you and so do I abandon you to the mercies of your friend’s kin!” Bryant could hardly comprehend what the fiend was talking about but knew he could not allow the fell minion to linger so close to the boy. With his failing strength, he drove his sword into the Dreadlord’s chest and collapsed as darkness took him; only as he fell into darkness did he fully realize what that small spot of blood portended, for the Messengers did not bleed.
Allimer awoke with the sun and the impertinent singing of birds, which would not allow weary pilgrims to sleep any longer. He made a breakfast with what his saddlebags held, refreshed himself from his waterskin, mounted, and took to the Road, but hardly had he left the little clearing where he had sought shelter for the night than his horse nearly stumbled over a prone form lying in the Road. Fearing some trap, but unable to leave a body in the Road, Allimer dismounted to investigate. He gently turned the man over and gasped; it was the stranger from the inn who had set him on this insane journey. He looked the man over but found no injury, save a very shallow graze on his left shoulder. The man’s sword lay nearby, as if he had had need of it but had blacked out in mid-strike. A ragged sorrel gelding stood nearby and looked at the elf with dull eyes. Allimer went to his own horse, fetched his waterskin, and splashed a few drops on the man’s face. His eyes blinked at the insult and he raised a hand to ward of the offending drops. He sat up slowly, looked about him, and flinched to see Allimer leaning over him. He looked equally surprised to see his sword nearby.
Allimer smiled cheerfully and said, “what happened? I thought I was alone upon this strange path, save for the bizarre folk sent to test me. Are you also a test?”
Bryant rose slowly to his feet and thoroughly inspected himself, finding only the scrape on his shoulder as witness to the events of the previous night. Gingerly he reached for his sword, as if he thought it might vanish or bite, but it was quite firm in his hand and he replaced it in its scabbard. He looked at the horse and Erian winked at him. He smiled quietly in thanks that he was not alone in his encore with mortality. Bryant then faced the boy and said, “occasionally strangers or old friends meet upon the Road. I happened to be upon it and encountered a fell villain near the place you were sleeping and was able to destroy him but I fear the encounter was too much for me, for no sooner had I struck than I fell unconscious as you just found me.”
Allimer said, “would it please you to travel together for a time? Is such allowed on this odd journey?”
Bryant looked plaintively at Erian, not quite sure if such was allowed but the stallion nodded minutely. Mortal or not, they still had their duty to do in protecting the boy from the fell servants of the Enemy. Bryant said, “most travel alone, but for a time some are allowed company upon the way, but if a parting comes you must not let it slow you or cause you to veer from the Road. I will travel willingly with you if you promise not to hinder your journey for my sake should the time of parting come, no matter if it cost me my life.”
Allimer eyed him strangely but nodded saying, “it will be pleasant to have such a companion though I fear your terms will one day try my heart sorely. I will do as you say. Is this another test to see that my heart is true?”
Bryant said, “I am not sure what part I shall play in your journey but I will do what I can to see that you travel free from the treachery of the Dark One. I cannot help you in the traps laid before you but perhaps I can keep you from unnecessary danger. You must still complete the journey successfully and alone.”
The boy shook his head and said, “you are a very strange man indeed, but I welcome your company for as long as I have it. Come, the day wastes.”
They both found their respective mounts and were soon on their way. As they traveled, the boy spoke of his life and his people and of many tales of the Fairyfolk. He asked Bryant also of his life and people. Bryant simply said, “I was once the son of a King but fled in dishonor and returned after finding the True King, only to be laughed at by all my folk. I have wandered the world since, doing what I can in service to my Lord and leaving others to tell my confused people of the ways of the King.”
Allimer laughed, “to think we are both exiled royalty!”
Bryant smiled sadly, “at least you left willingly. I was driven away for my foolishness and pride.”
The conversation was cut short as Allimer drew rein and looked about him in amazement, “such trees as these are certainly found only deep in the Fairywood! I ride unknowingly through my own country yet I have never seen such a Road in such a place before and I know well all the forests of that land.”
Bryant said quietly, “the Road lies not in one place but wanders where it will and must, that each heart upon it might be found true or not. No man can map it and its course is never the same but it will ever lead you true.”
Allimer shook his head in wonder but they continued on their way in silence, before the prince spoke saying, “this is no kind place to mortal men. You are either a fool or have more courage than sense to press on with me so.”
Bryant said quietly, “I will go where I must. I know well the dangers of this place for one such as I. Remember your promise if things go ill. Ware!” Erian reared and screamed a challenge, acting little like the placid gelding he appeared.
A Dreadlord and a dozen Soldiers rode swiftly towards them. The man and the elf both had their swords bared; Bryant wondered if his blade was mortal like himself or still a blade able to destroy the Enemy’s servants. In the seconds before battle was met Bryant yelled, “your blade is of elvish make?” The elf nodded. Bryant continued, “good, then it will be of some effect against these fiends. Block their blows as you may but no wound of yours will subdue such foes unless you sever the head from the body. Nothing else will even slow them.”
The boy nodded grimly and set himself for battle. Erian and Bryant followed suit. No mortal horse would stand in the presence of a Dreadlord and his fell minions, but the horses of the elves were not like the foolish horses of men and trusted their masters such that they would not flee even in the presence of such a fiend. All Dreadlords looked the same but Bryant somehow knew this one to be Ephod. After his failure as a Spy, he had somehow been assigned another role in the service of his fell master. He came for Bryant and left the Soldiers to finish off the elf. Bryant felt the fear and hatred that emanated from his late friend but he would not give in to the quailing of his now mortal flesh. Ephod mocked, “not afraid I see, but I will not give you death but shall lock you away forever in the darkness, for so it was you left me.” Bryant sighed, saw that the prince would shortly be overwhelmed, and knew he must deal with the Dreadlord quickly. His only concern was that his blade would do nothing against such a foe but there was no way to tell but to try, at least it had worked the previous evening upon this very villain.
He had no need to spur Erian forward for the Pegassi knew well his intention and they were nearly atop the Dreadlord when Bryant buried his sword in Ephod’s chest. The Dreadlord had been so absorbed in his mocking that he failed to even block the oncoming stroke and was swiftly defeated. Bryant smiled to know he was not completely helpless in the fight. Erian turned that they might help Allimer but the boy had found allies of a more curious nature and the ranks of the Soldiers were quickly decimated. Their last foe finally fell as Allimer put up his blade but not so his allies
. He said brightly to his kin, “I thank you for your aid in thwarting these sinister foes but why have you not put away your swords?”
The captain of the small company of elves said, “we cannot abide servants of the Dark One in our own forests, let alone assaulting our beloved prince, thus we came to your aid but neither can we abide mortal men trespassing likewise.”
Allimer scowled, “this man rides under my protection and we are on a journey for which my father has given his permission. Hinder us no further!”
The captain sighed, “I am sorry my prince, but I advise you to abandon this folly and return to your father immediately for there are fell things abroad. These are not the first such we have encountered. You may continue on your way in peace but nowise can we let this man pass. If you wish such a companion you must plead with your father on his behalf.”
Allimer’s eyes were wide with horror and confusion. He dared not leave Bryant in the hands of his people but neither could he leave the Road. Bryant solved the dilemma for him, but not in a way in which he could ride away without feeling some measure of shame, but so had he promised. Bryant sheathed his sword, removed his swordbelt, and handed it to Allimer saying, “I give this into your keeping, for I shall have need of it should we meet again, but you must not touch the hilt or remove it from its sheath. Touch only the scabbard.”
Allimer gasped, “you cannot mean to go with them?”
Bryant shook his head and said, “what choice do they leave us? Ride on for you must. More sorrow will come if you fail than if I allow myself to be captured. Be vigilant for more of the Enemy’s minions, remain firm in your purpose, and you will come to your destination. Fear not, for we shall meet again one day if we both remain true.”
Allimer took the blade and looked at it sadly and then looked to its former keeper saying, “I shall do as you say though it tries my heart sorely.”
Bryant smiled sadly, “this shall not be the first nor the last time such a feeling shall rend your heart in two, but it is the price of the service you seek. Farewell!”
Bryant allowed himself to be taken into custody, the captain eyed the prince strangely but made no move towards him, and then the whole company vanished into the Fairywood leaving Allimer to stare at the blade that was perhaps the only memory he would have of his strange friend whose name he did not even know. He secured the blade to his luggage, turned his horse, and rode into the growing evening with a heavy heart.
Bryant’s hands were bound and another held Erian’s reins, which vexed the Pegassi greatly. They traveled deep into the forest and rode for most of the night. Bryant found himself nodding in the saddle when they finally rode through the gates of a great city and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones fully roused him. He gazed around curiously at the strangeness of the architecture to his human eyes. No one was abroad at this time of night so the journey through the winding streets of the city was swift. The guards upon the castle gates let them pass unhindered. In the courtyard, Bryant was told to slide from his saddle. The moment he complied, Erian reared and screamed, pulling loose his reins and vanishing out the open gate ere they could catch him. They looked at the gate out which the horse had fled, but caring little for the creature they escorted the captive into the palace that he might stand before the king. The king was roused though not happy for the disturbance of his sleep; he was deeply curious as to why a man was traveling with his son.
“Why were you keeping company with my son and where is he bound that he cannot even turn aside to speak with his father?” demanded the king once he was regally clad and seated upon his throne in the great hall.
Bryant’s guards forced him to his knees before the king and he said, “Sire, he found me unconscious upon the road this morning and asked if I might join his party. I agreed to accompany him for a time if it did not hinder the errand upon which he rides. I once gave him some advice when he traveled in the lands of men and he knew me for a friend. Where that Road shall take him, none knows until he reaches its end.”
The king sighed, “you are a rather dull prisoner. Perhaps some time in the dungeons shall loosen your tongue.” He said something in his own language, which Bryant smiled to know he could still understand, the translation of which was ‘give him the usual treatment.’ A guard cuffed him across the base of the skull with a gauntleted hand and he fell again into darkness.
Bryant awoke not long after to find himself alone in a dank cell; the guard outside stared in mercilessly but seeing the prisoner awake, wandered out of sight for the time to attend to other tasks. The man looked about the cell, seeking some means of escape and could not believe his eyes to see hope so obvious. Upon a nail high upon one wall within the cell hung a key that looked as if it might open the cell door. What nonsense was this? If it were some trap he had best spring it, for the longer he rotted in this cell the more chance the Enemy had of assailing the prince upon his journey. He took the key and easily opened the door but was soon set upon by several guards lingering just around the corner. They bound his hands cruelly and taking his shoulders, drug him back before the king.
Again in a forced crouch, Bryant faced the king, who said in amazement, “how is it you come to find the key so quickly?”
Bryant gave him an odd look, “who hangs a key in plain sight within the very cell it opens?”
The king scoffed, “no mortal eye can see that key. Some molder years in that cell before chance brings the key within their grasp and even then some do not believe it, though they can feel its weight in their hands. It is quite an amusing diversion with such prisoners.” The king looked more closely at his prisoner and gazed deeply into those unflinching eyes and said, “yours are not the eyes of a mortal man.” He drew the gilded dagger from his belt and slashed it across Bryant’s cheek, drawing forth a thin line of blood; he laughed, “but your flesh is certainly mortal. I can send you to a swift end or perhaps you are more deserving of a lingering death?” Bryant did not even blink at such a pronouncement, his only concern was getting back to Allimer and doing his best to keep him out of the Enemy’s clutches. The king noticed his lack of care and snarled, “or perhaps I can throw you into the deepest dungeon I possess and leave you to rot for all of your natural life! Who or what are you? What have you to do with my son? What foolish quest has the boy embroiled himself in?”
Bryant said firmly, “whatever your decision, make it quickly whether to kill me or set me free. I am entrusted with protecting your son from the minions of the Enemy who assail the Road upon which he travels. The longer I linger here the less chance he has of completing his task. Such foes will surely kill him or worse, take him to their dark prison at the gates into the Infernal Realm and there he shall know torment indeed! Locking me away will avail you nothing, save perhaps to have some small part in your son’s demise, for then I cannot aid him.”
The king laughed scornfully, “and why would I seek your aid in this matter?”
Bryant said quietly but with an edge like a knife, “mortal I may be, but I will protect your son with all that is within me, even if cost me my life. I am a servant of the King and it was He that sent me to protect your son.”
The king snarled, “I do not wish my son to be involved with your King.”
Bryant said, “the choice is his to make and he is set on this course unless the Enemy has his way. He is determined that the boy not reach the end of the Road upon which he travels. Would you rather have the boy in the service of the True King or rather dead or a prisoner of the Evil One? Holding me only aides the latter.”
The king snapped, “we escaped to this place that we might be left in peace by both your King and your Enemy but both seem intent on disturbing our rest.”
Bryant said, “the world is the King’s and He may do with it and its occupants as He pleases. The Enemy cares little for anyone’s laws, even those of the King. The Grey Lands are disputed territory and the war is
bound to spill over into all lands no matter how reluctant and all must choose a side.”
The king sighed, “I wish no part in this little war of yours. I wish even less to see my son in the hands of the Enemy. But neither can I loose you, for mortal men are not allowed to roam our lands alone. If there is one of my subjects who would agree to accompany you I will allow your release, else you will rot in a cell until I have other need of it and have you executed.” He then spoke loudly to the gathered crowd of Fairyfolk that had come to witness the spectacle, “will anyone here risk my wrath should this mortal misbehave, to save his life and see him safely to our borders?”
There was much mumbling and scoffing but no one stood forth until a voice in the back of the crowd said, “I will bear him thus.” The king looked up in surprise and there were many murmurs of amazement and awe as all saw who it was that had spoken. Many of that folk remembered the Pegassi from the time before their exodus across the River and had not seen one since; that one stood among them was a miracle indeed.
Erian came forth to claim his errant rider and the king said in astonishment, “you will willingly bear such a pathetic creature and risk my wrath to do so? Know you not that any trouble he causes will be upon your own head.”
Erian snorted, “he will behave himself I think. Once I would have baulked at such a burden but now I bear it joyfully.”
The king asked, “how is it that one of your noble race is come across the River? Have you indeed seen the folly of your ways and rebelled against the King? We see your kind but seldom and then always in the company of men.”
Erian said, “I once rebelled against my King but know now the folly of such thinking. I am again in His service. My people do not cross the River of their own accord. We are either banished or leave willingly to aid the King’s Messengers.”
The king scoffed, “how is it then you are alone and willing to carry a mere mortal? The Messengers have moved beyond mortality, for my people cannot capture or accost them, thus we leave them in peace that they might return the favor.”
Erian snorted, “know you not that you have finally captured one of these legendary creatures? You have commented upon his strangeness yourself.”
The king laughed scornfully, “if he is a Messenger then the power of the King is truly waning.”
Erian said, “he is indeed of that calling though a fell weapon of the Enemy has rendered him mortal even as he protected your son while he slept. He has tasted of the River and that cannot be taken from him even though he again walks among the living. He has been my faithful friend and companion for many years and I will bear him still though you consider it beneath my dignity.”
“Very well,” said the king, “I shall forgive you this lecture and grant him to your keeping but if he strays from your sight within our bounds his life is forfeit.”
Erian nodded, as did the king, and the guards cut the ropes binding Bryant’s hands. He stood and threw his arms around the arching neck of his friend and whispered quietly, “thank you, my friend.”
Erian snorted, “we have our duty to be about and I certainly cannot do it alone.”
Bryant laughed, “as long as this was done entirely for the purpose at hand then we had best be about it.” He swung easily onto the stallion’s back, much to the agitation of all those gathered who thought it quite presumptuous and degrading.
The king said, “protect well my son on whatever fell quest he is about.” Bryant nodded grimly and Erian fled with all the speed he possessed.
Soon they were upon the Road and seeking once more the wandering boy. Erian said, “I shadowed the boy last night and saw that he was well defended by the roving bands of warriors the elven king has set to watch for the minions of evil. He has encountered many of his people who have begged, bribed, pleaded, sneered, boasted, and otherwise tempted him to abandon his course but he has stayed true. My hope is that we shall arrive before he leaves the relative safety of his homeland. How fare you my dear mortal?”
Bryant laughed, “glad indeed to be free of my captors and to know we have not yet failed in our duty. Besides for the tedious constraints of mortality I feel quite myself.” Erian looked at him curiously and Bryant expounded, “I have forgotten what it is to need sleep and nourishment on a regular basis!”
Erian shook his head in amusement, “if that is the worst you suffer then you have nothing to complain about.” Bryant laughed at his friend’s amusement but sobered as he truly pondered the thought.
It was not long before they came upon the boy who pushed steadily onward. He heard their approach and turned his horse suddenly with sword bared and nearly dropped it in surprise and relief to see the intruders. He gasped, “how is it you are free of my father?”
Bryant shook his head, “the hospitality of your people is certainly lacking but I pressed upon him the necessity of my quest and he was lenient.”
The elf laughed, “a thing seldom done in all the history of our people! It is good to have you back, for I fear I will need your sword before long as we are leaving the lands held by my people and entering a land strange to me.” He proffered Bryant’s sword and he gratefully replaced the weapon.
As they rode on, Allimer spoke of the encounters he had had with his people and how they had pleaded with him to stay, how they had scoffed and sneered at him, how a beautiful girl of his acquaintance had promised to marry him if only he would remain, and even some of his brothers had promised to have the king disown him if he did not turn around. He then asked, “how long is this journey?”
Bryant laughed, “as long as it must be.”
Allimer said, “why do you only speak in riddles? Why do I feel there is a whole world about me that I cannot sense or see?”
Bryant said quietly, “perhaps there is. In deciding to follow the King you have taken your first steps upon the path whose end is a world more strange and beautiful than any this side of the River can imagine; much happens in the war between the King and His Enemy that we in our fallen state fail to recognize. It is a whole new world my friend, and one more real than we can even begin to imagine.”
As they rode, Bryant wondered at the difference in the things sent to test the elf and that which he himself had faced so long ago. Then he began to consider that the elf could probably see the false face of the witch, the goblins, and all the other things that had pretended to be something they were not, such a façade would not fool the elf as it did mortal men, but the ties to his people would be hard to sunder but so far the boy had succeeded. Bryant wondered how Garren was getting on with Warde and the boy’s friend. Suddenly Bryant noticed the land around him and his heart sank, they were nearing the goblin village. He said to his companion, “whatever happens next, you must press on. There are horrors ahead.”
Allimer eyed him nervously but pressed his horse into a trot, as he topped the hill he looked with horror upon a teeming swarm of goblins running up the downward side intent on murder. “Ride!” shouted Bryant as Erian dove into the midst of the horde and lashed out with teeth and hooves while his rider struck with his sword. Allimer wasted no time and laid his heels to the horse’s flanks, the beast was only too willing to run. The goblins were surprised by the sudden flight of the one and distracted by the rampage of the other. Allimer managed to slip through and escape their grasp but Erian and Bryant found themselves greatly outnumbered. Erian had little to fear, but Bryant would face a hideous death at their hands if captured. Seeing Allimer free, they fought their way out of the horde and gave chase; thankfully the fiends though riled, had no way to catch a fleeing horse. Bryant was breathing hard and swaying in his saddle when he caught up with Allimer, who was delighted to see the crazy man alive. Who willingly risked life and limb for a stranger?
Bryant refused to stop until well clear of the goblins and then allowed his wounds to be inspected and tended to. Allimer carried some elf balm that took away most of the pai
n and seemed nearly to heal the wounds. “Thank you,” said Bryant quietly.
Allimer laughed, “if you are determined to get yourself killed on my behalf the least I can do is aid in healing you. You look faint. Are you well?”
Bryant said weakly, “I have not eaten since before you found me upon the Road. I suppose I am faint with hunger.”
The truth was he had had little chance to eat and he had almost forgotten that in mortal form he yet had need of such. They ate a little and rested before pressing on. It was growing dark but the moon was full, giving ample light and they had no wish to linger when the servants of the Enemy might be near. The sooner they reached the River the better. It was late in the night when they finally made camp. Allimer took the first watch though he knew not that Erian could easily have done that while he slept. Bryant tried to argue but was so worn with recent events that he nearly collapsed in dismounting and Allimer insisted he go straight to bed. Allimer was drifting to sleep at his post when Erian whinnied in alarm. Bryant was on his feet in a moment, sword bared. A stranger walked into their camp. He glanced at the man, dismissing him and then eyed the elf with a vicious light in his eyes saying, “well met my fine sir. Why have you taken up with this useless wanderer? The quest you have set yourself is a noble one and perhaps I can be of more use than he?”
Allimer said curiously, “and who might you be sir?”
The man said, “I am one of the King’s Messengers, sent to aid those who wander upon this Road and bring them safely to its end, most especially I protect such noble pilgrims from the likes of charlatans and tricksters as your companion here certainly seems to me.”
Allimer eyed him suspiciously, “is this again a trick that I might lose my way and all my hope? This man has been a faithful companion and true friend all the weary way.”
The stranger said, “but has he? Has he not spoken in riddles and half truths and has he not acted strangely? Does he not have a clouded past and mysterious future? How is it he so easily escaped your father? How came he to lie fortuitously in the Road for you to find and take pity upon? Why has he not told you all?”
Allimer said, “his answers have contented me and I have sensed no falseness in him. Can you prove yourself to be what you say?”
Bryant watched carefully lest the Spy do something sinister against the boy, but he would not interfere in what seemed another test of the lad’s resolve. The Spy said, “pierce me with your blade and see if it kills me, for are not the Messengers blessed with unending life?”
The boy was wide-eyed and looked to Bryant, who said, “do what you feel you must.”
The boy did as the Spy asked and was astonished to see him flinch slightly in pain but otherwise he took no harm. Allimer sheathed his blade and said, “all you have proved is that you cannot be killed by common means, which might be a trait of the Messengers but I know it also a trait of the servants of evil. Have you no other proof?”
The man said, “what does your heart tell you? Do you trust me or this hooligan and recluse who has certainly deceived you for reasons of his own?”
Allimer said quietly, “I do not like the feeling of you sir and I think you twist the truth to fit your own purposes. I will continue on with my friend.”
The man screeched like some awful bird and said, “you shall continue with me or die!” Bryant leapt upon the boy and pushed him to the ground as a gout of flame engulfed the place where he had stood. “You dare interfere with me fool?” scowled the enraged Spy, “you shall learn the folly of your ways.” He raised his hand to cast another foul spell, but Bryant gave him no chance and ran him through with his sword. The man dissolved into a black mist that quickly faded away.
Allimer stood and said, “I thank you for your aid, but the man’s words make me wonder the more of you, my curious companion.”
Bryant said, “since we are both awake, let us take to the Road again, the sooner to end this journey. I have told you that which I can, more must wait until a later time. If you no longer trust me, by all means send me away and I shall trouble you no longer.”
The boy laughed, “you have saved my life times beyond count and I will not treat you so ill just because I am impatient. I am content to learn more when the proper time is come.”
They mounted and were soon upon the Road. The final leg of their journey was much as Bryant remembered it: desolate, wearisome, and full of deprivation. The elf had a stronger constitution than his human companion and the way was much longer as a result. Allimer eyed Bryant with worry as their water and food failed but Bryant refused to slow their pace even though he swayed in his saddle. Allimer’s horse was stumbling with weariness and thirst but Erian was little affected. Finally a morning came when Bryant fell from his saddle and could not rise. Allimer was about to rush to his side when the shriek of a griffin broke the silence. He landed and eyed the two bipeds as if they were mice. He said, “it is time for you to tread this path alone. I will see to your companion.”
Allimer said, “I cannot leave him so!”
The griffin shook his great head and said, “think you that I would not have killed you both already had I the will? You have a journey to finish and your friend can go on no longer, neither are you allowed company on the final leg of your journey. Finish that which you have begun or go home!” Allimer nodded, mounted his terrified and weary horse, and continued on his way. The griffin took up the unconscious form and was soon aloft with Erian following protectively after.
The griffin easily followed the course of the Road, overtaking and passing Allimer unseen. The boy had a few last trials to pass before the end of his journey. The griffin and Erian watched closely that no traps of the Enemy lay in wait. The way seemed safe and they alighted beside the River. The griffin said grimly, “life is failing but the River can restore him. He will know what he must accomplish here when he wakens. I shall attend to the boy’s path and see that none come upon him unawares. Farewell.” Erian whinnied his thanks, nudged gently at Bryant, but received no response. With no hands to bring water to the man, Erian brought the man to the River. He took the man’s collar in his teeth and drug him the short distance to the water that flowed swift and clear. Erian plunged the man in and suddenly he came awake, spluttering in the cold and wet. He crawled to shore and lay breathing heavily for a moment and then looked to the amused Erian, though concern was writ deep in his eyes. The Pegassi told what he knew. Bryant sat up slowly and pulled himself to drier ground. He shivered and Erian lay down beside him, draping a great wing over him to shield him from the bitter wind.
“What is it you must do here?” asked the Pegassi.
Bryant said, “one of the Messengers must be here when the boy finishes his journey and that duty has fallen to me.”
Erian turned his head and looked at his friend askance, “but you are still mortal!”
Bryant snorted a laugh, “and yet my duty remains. If you weary of me as a burden you can cross the River.”
Erian made a strangled sound at the suggestion and said, “what nonsense is this? You may be heavier than normal but I will not so easily abandon you.” Bryant smiled his thanks and fell into a deep sleep, warded by his faithful friend.
Morning was come when Erian nudged Bryant awake. He stood weakly and worked the cramps from his limbs. Just then Allimer came riding over the hill and looked with wonder at the great rent that was the Rift; then he looked with even more surprise upon the disheveled man that stood beside it. He slid from his horse and ran to embrace his chronically vanishing friend saying, “I feared you dead of exertion! What has come to pass? Am I finally come to the end of the journey?” He looked across the Rift at the glorious mountains and rolling hills of the Brightlands and asked, “is that truly the place where the Master dwells? How pleasant the hills to my eyes!”
Bryant said, “you have survived the Road and have come to its ending. The choic
e is now before you to cross the River and enter those fair lands or to continue on in this weary mortal sphere in service to your King, but in so doing you sever all ties that bind you to the Grey Lands.”
Allimer said, “ah to set foot upon that beautiful soil, but I have come for a purpose and that pleasure must wait. But you have yet to tell me your tale.”
Bryant smiled weakly and said, “there is not much to tell. The griffin brought me here and the River restored what strength I have. Now what of you?”
The boy practically glowed, “I also would taste of this River but where does it flow?”
Bryant smiled broadly and said, “look again upon the Rift with eyes newly opened.” The boy did look and smiled for joy. Bryant said, “now if you are firm in your desire, taste of its water and plunge beneath its flow. But remember that sorrow, pain, and toil will haunt your labors if you choose this path.”
The boy nodded firmly and said, “I desire nothing else.” He promptly complied with Bryant’s words and found life anew. He found himself completely changed but his companion still stood a weary man in worn clothes.
He could now see Erian for what he truly was and a gasp of awe escaped his lips. A similar creature stood on the far side of the River, reared and screamed his joy, and easily leapt the flow to meet his new companion on the far side. The two were lost in greeting for a time while Bryant looked wistfully on. Erian nuzzled him companionably. Once the two had been properly introduced, Allimer happened to glance down at himself and finally noticed that his garb was as changed as he was. He turned with a puzzled expression to Bryant and asked, “who or what are you?”
Bryant laughed, “by now you have probably guessed that I have some affinity with the Messengers, but what I am sure you can hardly guess. My mind, my sword, and my mount are all as they should be but my body is mortal once more. When death takes me I shall be as you, but until then I am bound by all the constraints of mortality. The Enemy possesses a fell weapon with such strange capabilities.” With that he expounded his full tale and answered all the questions yet buzzing in the boy’s mind. He also told of many things that would aid him on his quest but there was too much to impart and some of it would have to come by experience.
The boy sat heavily upon the grass, seeming to feel the full weight placed upon his shoulders. Bryant laughed, “come lad, you have too much to learn to sit there and let the world pass you by. Besides, weariness is no longer a physical concern.”
Allimer laughed and stood, asking, “what shall we be about now?”
Bryant said, “you need to learn a few things ere I turn you loose, but much of it you have seen already having encountered Dreadlords, Spies, and Soldiers upon the Road. Listen to your heart and the advice of your companion and you shall do very well. If ever you weary of this life, simply cross the River and find peace but know you cannot cross it again until the Last Day once you do. The Enemy may still try to turn your heart from the King and if he succeeds, you can never go back to Him; you will be forever lost to us. Come, it is time to try your hand at fighting some of our foes.”
Bryant’s blade was out and he had swung onto Erian’s back as he spoke, for a Dreadlord and six Soldiers were upon them. Allimer wasted no time in following Bryant’s lead and soon was consumed in a battle with the Soldiers. Bryant tried to fend off the Dreadlord, but it was relentless in its pursuit. It scoffed, “this time you will not succeed. You may have won your foolish elf but he is of little consequence. He may even barter his soul to spare you the torment that awaits whither I shall bear you.”
Bryant sighed heavily, “Ephod, what have you against me?”
Ephod laughed horribly, “I have everything against you. The only reason my master spared me the abyss after my last failure was for you! He thought it a great delight to torment you thus, as do I!” Whatever strange power the Dreadlords had to induce unwilling sleep he now laid upon Bryant, who again lapsed into darkness as he had so long ago. Erian screamed but could do little against the fell thing that took a firm hold upon Bryant and swiftly bore him away.
Allimer was just finishing with the last of the Soldiers when he heard Erian’s heart-wrenching cry. He too saw what the fiend intended and made to ride after but Erian blocked his way, saying, “this matter is beyond both of us. We must do our duty no matter how it pains us and trust Bryant to the King’s mercy. You know already that which you must do and if you refuse or follow another path you will have forsaken your King and all for which you once fought.”
Allimer nodded grimly and said, “I will trust our Master and know in the end that all will be set aright. I must return to my father and people and tell that which I have seen.”
Erian said, “remember Bryant’s words, trust the Spirit within you, trust my kinsman, and you shall not fail. Farewell.” Erian took swiftly to the Road and vanished from sight, off on errands known only to himself and the King. Allimer’s own mount turned towards the Fairywood and their looming quest.
Bryant awoke with a throbbing head in the absolute dark. He could see nothing, but the cell felt damp, small, and stank of must, mold, and other unnamable thing. He heard a slight shifting to his left and asked, “who is there?”
He heard a weary laugh and a grizzled voice said, “awake are you? It would have been better had you died in your sleep.”
“Where am I and who are you?” asked Bryant.
The man said, “I am called Locke, or at least I was in brighter places where people still have names. In here we are less than rats; at least the rats are free. You are in the deepest, darkest dungeon in the great prison on the borders of the Infernal Realm. Congratulations, few are despised enough by our jailers to ever descend so far. What did you do to incur such wrath on their part?”
Bryant said, “a man I once called friend found himself a Dreadlord and felt inclined to take vengeance as he saw it. What of you?”
The man said, “I am nothing half so interesting. I was a Wanderer in my day and I think they simply needed the room up above, for they moved me down here and I think they have forgotten about me.”
“What do we face in this place?” asked Bryant.
The man shrugged though none could see, “some are killed outright, others are tortured until they die or turn to the enemy, others are left in some dark corner to rot, which I think shall be our fate. I have been here many days and nothing ever changes except that occasionally they remember we will not long survive without food and water.”
Bryant said, “that seems kind of an anticlimactic ending. Am I to rot in this place for a hundred years?”
The Wanderer laughed, “unless they decide to kill you sooner or your health fails you, I suppose that you must.”
Bryant laughed grimly, “who would ever think to welcome death?”
The Wanderer smiled, “those who serve the King do, for a brighter country awaits us thence. Only such a promise and the strength the King has leant me keeps me sane in such a place! But then they kill those who go mad, for there is no sense in tormenting one who is beyond reason.”
Suddenly pain erupted in their eyes as the door was flung open and light blinded them. Strong arms grabbed Bryant and drug him out into the painful though dim glare of torches. Ephod stood over him and scorned him, “that is what you have to look forward to for what remains of your natural life, save when they bring you out for a sound beating or some other little amusement. I have left careful orders that you are not to be killed so they will take the utmost care to see you live out your natural life. Your only consolation will be in that I may one day have a better use for the arrow and then I shall have you killed out of necessity. Of course you could bow before my master and spare yourself the agony?”
Bryant glowered, “do what you think you must but let us speak no more of my turning against the King.”
Ephod laughed, “a nice sentiment but we shall see how you fare after twen
ty years of such treatment.” They drug him away, wounded him in various ways, and then cast him back into the cell, but first they took out the Wanderer and had him put to death for the simple reason that they wanted the fool to have not even the consolation of a companion in chains. They left him alone in the dark to recover as he would from his wounds but they had overestimated his strength. After his journey, especially the last leg, his strength had waned. The River had restored some of his vigor but the Dreadlord’s fell magic had sapped even that. He lay alone in the dark, lost in a delirium of fever.
They threw him food as they might a despised dog and occasionally remembered that he needed water as well, but Bryant was aware of none of these small amenities and was utterly lost to the dark. The Soldiers that tended the prisoner thought little of the untouched water and food save that they did not have to replace it. The Spy that oversaw this forsaken level of the prison noticed this one day and demanded that the prisoner be brought forth; he did not wish to face the Dreadlord’s wrath should the fool man die prematurely. The man was lugged out and at first all thought him dead, for so tragic was his state, but a feeble effort at breathing was finally observed. Life hung on but barely; knowing the peculiar state of this particular prisoner the Spy ordered him out of the prison.
If the man should die, the Spy might find himself with a Messenger loose in his prison and that was an infamy he dared not face his master with. Better to face the wrath of the Dreadlord than their vile master. The Soldiers did as they were bidden and drug the moribund man to the verge of the desolate road that ran through those forsaken lands and there they left him to the whims of the scavengers and the weather, to die as he would. Day was hardly a faint glimmer of pale light in those lands and evening was fast approaching as the Soldiers abandoned the seeming corpse and scuttled back to their posts. A furtive figure watched from the cover of some stark boulders until the fiends were well out of sight and then crept towards the prone form. The figure glanced around nervously, but seeing no one, knelt beside the dying man. She laid a hand to his cheek but it was cold as death. A single tear of pity glimmered in her eyes.
She gently raised his head and placed a small drop of some fragrant liquid upon his parched tongue, which in those wasted lands seemed a whole garden of flowers. His eyes fluttered open and he looked upon the piteous face of an elf maiden on the brink of tears. Suddenly there was the rush of hooves, a startled shriek, and the evil laugh that Bryant knew belonged to none but Ephod. The Dreadlord had been watching the dying man and at the proper moment, had pounced upon the distracted girl, sweeping her into the saddle of his fell beast and riding like the wind to the lands of her father the elf king. Bryant’s head fell to the ground as she was borne away, for he had not the strength to hold it aloft; bitter tears stung his eyes to think what plots might now engulf that poor creature.
“Are you just going to lie there?” came a familiar voice. For the first time in what seemed decades, a smile crossed Bryant’s face as hope stirred within him. With all his might he strained and finally rolled himself onto his belly. Erian towered over him with concern writ large in his eyes.
Bryant tried to speak and finally a sound came, as if the echo of some weak wind whistling through caverns deep within the earth, “I cannot stand.” Erian nodded grimly, lay down beside his prone friend, and patiently waited while the man laboriously pulled himself onto the great back.
He turned gentle eyes upon his rider and said, “can you hang on?”
Bryant tried to laugh but only provoked a cough but croaked, “yes.”
Erian nodded and set off at the fastest pace that his stricken rider could manage. The elf’s liquor had saved him from imminent death but he was yet hardly fit to be considered alive. He prayed desperately that they reach the girl before some ill fate befell her and all her people. They trotted on but Ephod had a great lead, and at this rate would be well finished with his plot ere they arrived. Bryant wondered what he could do about the situation when they reached their destination. He could do little but cling desperately to the back of his friend. Things would be far easier if he had been allowed simply to die but that time had not yet come so he clung on and prayed, for it was all he had strength left to do.
Erian stopped briefly some hours into their flight to allow Bryant to drink from the first stream they had come upon, but both grudged even those few minutes until they were moving once more. Bryant lapsed in and out of a restless sleep. For days they rode on, only stopping occasionally to quench Bryant’s thirst but there was nothing to sate his hunger. Gradually a little strength returned and he was able to at least sit upright as he rode rather than cling like a frightened cat to Erian’s great back. Only then did he notice that he had no weapons about him, for somewhere his sword had been lost or confiscated. He laughed weakly, this fight was sure to be a short one but they could not abandon the chase for so paltry a reason as that. If they did not go, who would? On they rode until finally the elf country rolled on before them in endless miles of wild forest. Hardly had they crossed the border when several voices shouted, “halt or die mortals!”
Erian turned his head questioningly and Bryant violently shook his head; they had no time to fiddle with incredulous border guards. Erian increased his pace hoping to leave the warriors far behind but it was too late. Bowstrings snapped in the morning mist and took Bryant in the chest. Erian turned with a scream to stand over his fallen friend, glaring balefully at their assailants who crept cautiously towards their wounded foe. Two arrows protruded from his chest and the fall from a height had not aided his already precarious situation; the darkness was immediately upon him. He knew he was dying and yet lay fading in that forest dell but he also knew himself to be standing knee deep in the River, looking across to the Brightlands where peace and rest called to him. He turned to look back to the near shore where grief, sorrow, and pain lingered still. He could go or he could stay. His heart yearned for that radiant country but he could not yet abandon the quest he had begun and for which he had suffered so much.
He withdrew from the River and returned to the mortal shore and immediately a great light engulfed him. He was again lying in the clearing but no more was he upon the point of death. Life or something greater flooded his being once more and he felt his sword in his hand. The three elves gasped as they watched the ragged corpse draw one last shuddering breath and then suddenly it stood, glowing like the sun. They had taken a fright at the Dreadlord crossing their lands with the princess a captive and were determined to let no one else escape them thus, but this aberration was too much and they fled into the woods. Erian nuzzled his friend warmly and the man threw his arms around the great neck whispering, “thank you.”
Erian laughed, “it is good to have you back.”
Wasting no time, for now they could move swifter than the seconds and the hours, they were soon off, faster than mortal thought. The Dreadlord had gained days and miles upon them, but now they could easily catch him. Cloaked once more as a plain man and common horse they rode on and heeded none that tried to stop them though arrows, spears, and swords pierced them through. The disappointed warriors followed after as swiftly as they could. They came to the great city of the Fairyfolk to find the gates held against them but it hindered them not. They ran silently through the deserted streets and came to the castle and easily entered the courtyard where stood the king and the Dreadlord with his hostage. All three, along with the gathered Fairyfolk gasped to see who the intruder was.
Ephod growled, “can you never leave well enough alone? Come a step closer and the girl dies! Be gone, this is not your affair.”
The king scoffed, “you took my son and now you will destroy my daughter too? You have much nerve to come back to my lands after such betrayal!”
The girl wept, “father condemn him not! It was I that ran away after hearing Allimer’s words; I went to find that which he had found and in a sere and desola
te land came upon a dying man, upon whom I took pity only to be taken by this fell creature.”
The king growled, “but for him my kingdom would yet be at peace, not turned on its head by my fool son and a common dog turned preacher! My folk have never known such confusion in all the days we have dwelt here. I should have killed you when last we met boy, now your fate is sealed. What of my daughter, vile servant of the Enemy?”
The Dreadlord laughed, “I will have her as wife and take your place as king, to rule all your lands and folk. As a wedding gift, you shall give me the head of the Wanderer who causes such discord amongst your people.”
The king was aghast, “I will gladly give you the traitor, but I cannot give you my daughter or my throne!”
Ephod laughed cruelly, “then she dies.”
The king paled, for he loved his daughter dearly. He looked on the verge of submitting when the girl shrieked, “no father! I would rather die than be bound to such a creature and to see our people thus enslaved!”
The king wept, “but death is not the proper province of our people! You should live on ‘til time’s end!”
Her smile was radiant as the new risen sun, “and so I shall and even beyond, but not in these lands of sorrow and woe. I am bound for a brighter shore one day, perhaps today, but do not make such a vow!”
The king was greatly troubled, “you too have been corrupted by this nonsense? What am I to do with you child?”
She said a little sadly, “that which you must, but forsake not the True King else we shall truly be ever sundered!”
Ephod glowered, “such a wench is not worthy of the offer I have offered it.”
The girl gasped and then slumped momentarily as the Dreadlord drove his dagger into her heart, but no sooner had her eyes glazed in death than she raised her head and spoke in a voice like one asleep, “father, do as he says and all will be well.” Bryant watched silently, knowing his interference would not improve the situation but seeing the girl slain, he drew his sword and Erian charged the Dreadlord on his fell beast. The king watched in horror as his daughter was thrown to the ground like a lifeless doll as Ephod drew his own sword and turned his mount to meet Erian.
The combatants circled, struck, and blocked until finally Bryant’s blade took Ephod in the chest, but before he fell to dust his own blade took Bryant full in the neck. The Dreadlord and his mount fell to dust that blew away on the wind as Bryant vanished in a flash of silvery light. The king and all his court sat aghast in horror and relief. The king stood slowly and shakily, as an aged man, and approached the prone form of his only daughter, at whose side he knelt in grief. He turned wrathful eyes upon Erian and said, “you have betrayed us all! You were to bear that wretched boy far from here, never to return. My daughter lived until that fiend made to interfere!”
Erian said patiently, “you saw as well as I that the Dreadlord took her life well before that.”
The king scoffed, “but she spoke that all would have been well!”
Erian shook his head, “her spirit had fled and nothing but her mortal shell remained and that the Dreadlord used as a puppet! It was not your daughter that spoke thus but her killer. You would have enslaved your people to evil for nothing!”
The king sighed, “at least your vile friend and the Dreadlord destroyed one another.”
Erian snorted, “such as they cannot die as mortals do! The Dreadlord’s fell master might cast him forever into the abyss and Bryant may choose to cross the River, but until then both shall continue to fight in this ancient war, perhaps until time itself ends. Do not reject the last words of your dear child, for they are the truth and can bring joy from much grief! Do not waste this, perhaps your last chance, that your people might turn to the King ere they rue it for all eternity.”
The king gave Erian a dark look and said, “this is not finished between us. Someone must suffer for this day and it looks to be you.”
Erian reared and spread his great wings in fury, glowing as if the setting sun stood at his back. He said grimly, “heed well the warning given.” He vanished with all the speed of his kind back to the River to collect his ever errant friend.
The guards that had come to capture the Pegassi gaped at one another and the king in astonishment. The king wept bitterly over his daughter and word quickly spread of the strange encounter among all the Fairyfolk. Feledon, who had been for some months abroad among his own folk, wondered at the tale and soon folk were flocking to hear that which he had to say. The king sent men to destroy him, but ever did he manage to avoid capture for the allotted time he was allowed among his people that all might hear. Finally he was taken and cast deep into the dungeons, but on dark nights when the king was alone and brooding, he sometimes had him brought forth and listened quietly to that which the boy had to tell before growing angry and casting him again into darkness. Many were the folk who heard his words ere he was captured and of these many believed, much to the anger of the king and all their kin. They set forth for the River, hoping to find the peace of which Feledon had spoken, for now they were outcasts and exiles among their own people. This great emigration angered the king so much that he finally had the boy executed, which did little to sooth his wrath, upon which he brooded constantly in the darkest watches of the night until his heart was as hard as a diamond but unlike the jewel, it never cast back the light that shone upon it.
Bryant woke on the shore of the River where the water played with the toe of one submerged boot. Erian stood patiently by but did not immediately heed his friend, for his attention was focused on a great throng of the Fairyfolk that emerged from the woods as Bryant stood. They had come seeking the River and the Haven upon the far shore, but saw only far mountains and a fair country across the great Rift. They saw the man and the horse upon its brink and thought them no more than what they could see. Said the boldest of the company to the stranger, “tell us man, the way to the River if you know it. We are exiles from our own country and flee the wrath of our king and kinsmen. We were told of a fair land that could be our own if only we trust its King. We have abandoned all in that pursuit and have come in sight of our home but can find no way to reach it.”
Bryant said, “I thought all your folk could cross the River at the time of their choosing, if only they turned to the King?”
The bold elf nodded, “such was our understanding, at least for those whom death does not court. The lesser kindreds I suppose must pass that door. Must the rest of us wait until time itself fails?”
Bryant said, “perhaps there is a purpose in your exile? You will certainly enter that bright country one day if you remain true but perhaps now is not the time. Much was risked and suffered to bring word to you and such favor would be ill repaid simply by flight from danger into eternal bliss. Take heart and serve your King! The whole world trembles under the threat of despair and darkness but you can bear light into all lands and speak that which you know, and after you will come into your own country as faithful servants rather than desperate refugees. Let others take joy in what you yourselves have discovered.”
The fairyfolk suddenly began speaking amongst themselves eagerly and then after a time their leader said, “you speak truly and wisely sir! We shall pass on to others that which has drawn us out of darkness, that others might also live in the light. We cannot return to our own lands but all the lands of men are open to us. We shall do as you say.” With that, they turned with one accord and set out upon the Road that suddenly lay before them and which would bear one here and another there until there were such wanderers in all lands speaking to all the children of men with ears to hear.
“Nicely said,” said Garren as he joined Bryant upon the shore.
Bryant laughed, “the words were not my own.”
Garren laughed, “certainly not, for we are but servants who can only speak and do those things the Master appoints to us.”
Bryant asked, “why
do I feel as if a great shift is about to take place, as if all we once knew will no longer be as it was?”
Garren said quietly, “because the Last Day is nigh. All will have a little longer to decide what to do with the King; they shall have at least one more chance to hear. The Enemy shall stir and things shall grow dark upon the earth. Then the Son himself will ride forth with all His servants behind Him to give the Enemy his final defeat and put the world aright. Woe then to all who do not revere the King, for they shall be cast aside into the unending dark with the Enemy himself. Come, we have much work to be about before then, for still we must counter the plots of the Enemy.” They exchanged a smile and rode off into the growing evening of time.
Beyond the Mountains:
“Are you sure about this?” gasped Bayard, trying desperately to stay aback the trotting horse; he was not used to riding and the animal had a trot rough enough to unseat an experienced rider.
“Certainly not!” laughed Tyne, having a much easier time astride his well-bred gelding and far more used to riding than his awkward friend.
“Then why are we going?” asked Bayard, coming alongside his amused companion who could not help but laugh at Bayard’s desperate attempt to stay horsed.
Gaining some control over himself, Tyne replied, “would you rather stay home and follow a plow around all your life with all the rewards of your labor going to another man or worse, fall victim to the Blackguard or anyone else who sees fit to plunder or kidnap those too weak to defend themselves?”
Bayard sighed, “I see your point of course, but what are we to find upon the road but perhaps worse than your slavers and the Blackguard? Besides, your father seems to do quite well, at least when it comes to keeping more of the fruits of his labor than the rest of us.”
Tyne sighed, “he has always been able to toady up to the Lord and is thus allowed a few privileges.”
Bayard laughed, “which is why you are riding a real horse and I am stuck with this ox!” Tyne could not help but join in his friend’s mirth. He did not know what waited upon their road but only that he felt as if he could no longer stay at home. They certainly might meet a tragic end but there was also a chance that they might find a brighter horizon where endless toil and fear were not an assumed part of life. The Lord that oversaw their particular part of the world was by no means the most tyrannical of his class, but he did not leave the peasants much to live on after he had claimed his share.
In this unsettled part of the world no one dared resist the Blackguard, who rode in and took whatever and whomever they pleased. It was also rumored that there were darker and more dangerous creatures abroad in service to the Dark Prince, and none dared speak against him or his minions in the open air for fear that even the birds and the trees might carry the tale to the wrong ears; the results of which were inevitably fatal to the speaker and all his immediate kin. As peasant boys nearing manhood, Bayard and Tyne were expected to continue as their fathers had in tilling the soil and paying tribute to their local lord. Their other option was to become soldiers serving some lord, king, or other power in the wide world. Or they could pack their meager belongings, leave home, and hope to find adventure and riches upon the road while all their nearest relations could only shake their heads in wonder. They had chosen the latter though they knew little of the world, save that it was a dark and dangerous place.
There were many Kingdoms scattered across the vast expanse of the known world but also much wilderness, unclaimed by any sovereign but haunted by those who wished not be found. Though each Kingdom had its own sitting monarch, there was a power that none dared challenge. Far to the south dwelt the Dark Prince in his wasted lands and throughout all the lands of men his servants rode far and wide, doing as they pleased with lesser men and ever on some errand for their dark master. Some said the Dark Prince was not even human, but those that did knew not what else he could be. The reigning kings allowed his servants to do as they pleased and none hindered them, for fear of their master’s wrath falling upon them.
It was a broad and strange world, peopled by all manner of men and creatures. Some whispered of those that opposed the Dark Prince and his minions, but most thought it hearsay, for who would dare oppose his Dread Majesty, or rather who could oppose him and live to tell the tale? There were the usual wars and tyrannies that one man or country might inflict upon another throughout the world, as is only natural in the lands of men. Rumors abounded of strange and dangerous folk and creatures lurking in the wild places of the world, most of the stories held that they were unfriendly to men and not to be trusted. There were certainly human predators abroad: bandits who preyed upon any foolish enough to wander far from the confines of civilization. All in all, it was a dangerous world with little of hope or peace known to most of its inhabitants. What was the point of living many wondered, if it were only to suffer and then to die? But most feared death more than even the most wretched existence but could not say why. The boys hoped not only to find a brighter future upon the road but also a purpose for living.
The Dark Prince and his minions were a reality known and feared by all, but there were also legends of another sort in the world. It was said that somewhere, beyond the Sea, dwelt the Great King who had once ruled over the Greylands, as the mortal world was called, but over which the Dark Prince now held dominion. Some actually believe the legend that the King would one day return and take back that which was rightfully His. Some even claimed that the King was something much greater than a man and was the only hope for floundering humanity. Of course the Dark Prince and his servants strongly denounced such a view and severely punished any who thought otherwise. According to their opinion, there was no hope for humanity, only the long, weary march into endless night.
Bayard hoped to learn more of these legends upon their road; Tyne only hoped to avoid the notice of the Blackguard and the other dangers of the road. They rode on until the light began to fail and then found a secluded place to camp not far from the road. The lights of a village twinkled in the distance and the intrepid pair left their well hidden camp to see what wonders it might hold, for neither had ever been farther from home than their own humble village. They quickly found the inn and sat at a table at the far back of the common room to take in the happenings of the evening. Back home, their mothers would never have let them sit in a common room at such an hour, thinking it quite improper; their fathers would expect them to be hard at work if there was any light left and sleeping if there were not.
The dimly lit room was filled mostly with local craftsmen and farmers along with a fair collection of merchants and other travelers. The innkeeper eyed them suspiciously, especially because they had not even bought a drink. Their stomachs were empty but they had not coin enough to spare for such a luxury as a hot meal in such a place. They lingered for another half hour but no one seemed overly interested in talking with a pair of penniless peasant children and nothing at all interesting seemed to be happening this evening. So much for the excitement of the local tavern! They crept back to their little dell, ate from the small store of food their mothers had sent with them, and were soon asleep. Both were eager to talk of their coming adventures but neither had the energy after such an expedition, to which they were so new. Morning came early and wet as it usually does in the spring. They refreshed themselves in a nearby creek, ate a bit, and were soon on their way.
“Where is it we are going?” asked Bayard as they rode along. His muscles ached terribly from yesterday’s ride and sleeping rough had not improved matters, but he tried to hide it as best he could. Tyne was nearly as sore but also as reluctant to show his discomfort.
“I am not sure exactly,” said Tyne, “though north is probably a good direction, as I have no wish to visit the southlands and get any nearer the Dark Prince.” Bayard nodded in agreement. The further south one rode, the more notorious was the country until at last one arrived in the Withered Lands where the D
ark Prince ruled and from which no living man had ever been known to return unchanged.
“What do you think about the Mountains of Shadow?” asked Tyne, trying to hide his excitement.
“You are not serious?” gasped Bayard, “they are nearly as notorious as the Blighted Lands! What makes you want to go there?”
Tyne smiled sheepishly, “and who said I had any interest in going thence?” Bayard raised a suspicious eyebrow and Tyne laughed, “all right I admit it, but can you think of a more mysterious place? Besides, it is as far away from the south of the world as one can get without falling into the Sea! I know they say all manner of horrible things lurk in the passes, but they are certainly less dangerous than the servants of the Dark Lord. Some even say there is some great treasure to be found beyond those sinister peaks. Do you have any better ideas?”
Bayard sighed, “perhaps you are right? I supposed we can at least learn more about them as we travel and north is as good a direction as any, at least for now. We can always change our minds. They are certainly as notorious in story as the south of the world, but never are they portrayed as altogether evil as is the realm of the Dark Prince. Besides, if there is some chance at wealth or fame, I am certainly amenable to the risk.”
They rode on for several days before they finally found someone with time to talk to two strange boys. They found a grizzled old man making his way steadily along the road just leaving the village they were about to enter; he seemed rather amused that the wayfarers would stoop to talk to such as he. “Where are you bound lads?” asked the man in a voice rich in warmth and humor.
Bayard slid from his saddle and said, “we are currently riding north and think perhaps to explore deeper the mystery of the Mountains of Shadow. Know you anything of them?”
The man looked them over carefully and said, “I know an old tale or two about those peaks but whatever would make you wish to go thither?”
Tyne said defensively, “they say there is a great treasure upon the far side and that is the reason we are upon this road: to get rich!”
The old man smiled thoughtfully, “well then you will never gain your heart’s desire in those wretched mountains. There is a treasure indeed beyond their lofty heads but not for such as we. The further slopes are said ever to be bathed in the light that emanates from the Lands Beyond the Sea where dwells the Great King and all His servants. It is said no mortal eye has ever glimpsed those blessed shores nor can any man cross the peaks and hope to live.”
Bayard said in confusion, “how then are we to make our fortune?”
The old man laughed gently, “there are more important things in this world child than power and riches. Seek the King and you will be a far richer man than any king sitting in his halls of cold marble.”
“Which King?” asked Tyne, suspiciously.
The old man laughed, “why the Great King, young man. Who else? You do not believe a word I say do you?”
Tyne said skeptically, “I at least had assumed this King of yours to be as much a legend as all the other tales that are common to men. What has this King to do with me even if he does exist? How can an old man ruling beyond a distant sea have anything to do with the Greylands?”
The old man smiled and said, “a hard concept until you consider that the King is no more a man than the Dark Prince.”
Bayard said, “what then are they?”
The man continued, “it is said that the Great King was before anything: the world, people, time, everything. ‘Twas He that brought Everything into being. The Dark Prince was once the Great King’s greatest servant, until he rebelled against his rightful lord and claimed dominion over these Greylands. It is also whispered that these lands did not always lie under the shadow of sorrow and death but were once perfect and full of joy and peace. But the forefathers of men, at the urging of the Dark Prince, rebelled against the King and cast all the world into shadow and death. We yet linger in the shadows as it were, until the King again returns to claim all that is His by right.”
“But why is it his by right?” demanded Tyne.
The old man chuckled, “He made it and all within and beyond that which we call reality.”
Bayard gasped, “then why did he not just destroy his enemies and take back that which was his?”
“An excellent question lad,” said the old man, “but one to which I can give but poor answer. They say that the Great King wishes that even the most rebellious of His former subjects would repent of their evil and return to their true Master. He could have easily destroyed everything and begun anew, but His patience and love is greater than any mere mortal can comprehend, but His patience is not infinite, for He has promised to return and cast all such rebels forever into the Blighted Lands.”
Bayard was quite pale, “rebels? Are we not then all rebels against such a wondrous King?”
The old man smiled sadly, “that we are boy, that we are.”
Tyne said stiffly, “then we are all of us doomed if this tale of yours is true?”
“Not quite,” said the old man, “there is yet hope. As I said, the King wishes all of His children to come to Him willingly. If we humble ourselves before Him, seek His forgiveness for all the evils we have wrought, and fervently seek His will and live as He would have us, we have nothing to fear.”
Tyne sneered, “what if I want nothing to do with this King of yours or remain skeptical as to the verity of his existence?”
The old man said, “then you and all with such hearts will one day find themselves forever lost in the Bleak Lands either upon death or at the return of the True King.”
“I do not understand,” said Bayard quietly, “what manner of King is this? How can He love such creatures as men? Are not all such lords tyrants and despots?”
Tyne snorted, “he seems despot enough for me.”
The old man smiled, “no mortal mind can fully wrap itself around such an idea even with long study and acquaintance, but you do come to understand more with time and learning. Now what of your endeavor to climb the peaks?”
Tyne laughed, “your myths will not dissuade me old man. I will seek my fortune wherever it pleases me.”
Bayard said, “you say the Bright Lands lie beyond the northern sea which is beyond the mountains? I have a great urge to see that bright shore for myself.”
The old man said to Bayard, “perhaps with such a sentiment you may find what you seek if you attempt the mountains, but I fear your friend will only find his doom.”
Tyne laughed derisively, “and what would you know of the matter old man? Have you ever even seen those mountains?”
The old man smiled, “no, but I have heard enough about them to never take such a journey lightly. Some say a man of true heart may find what he seeks in those passes so riddled with death but that a man of selfish intent shall only find his doom.”
“I have heard enough of this old fool’s prattling, are you coming Bayard?” sneered Tyne as he turned his horse and rode towards the village.
The old man said to Bayard as he mounted, “I fear greatly for your friend even if you do not attempt the mountains but all is certainly lost if he does with such a heart.”
“What am I to do?” asked the concerned Bayard.
The old man winked, “seek the King and He will give you strength and direction.” Bayard gave the old man a thankful grin as he rode off after Tyne.
“Complete nonsense!” laughed Tyne as Bayard hurried to catch up, “do not tell me you believe anything that old coot said.”
Bayard shrugged, “some of his words stirred restless thoughts in my heart and mind. I find the whole idea intriguing! To think that perhaps man is not simply alone and forsaken to the darkness. That there is hope to be found and a purpose to living.”
Tyne shook his head in exasperation, “come back to reality Bayard! You sound as crazed as that old man. I still intend to face the mou
ntains despite his warnings, perhaps more so because of them.”
Bayard said, “I long for that forbidden shore. I will go with you but I would heed well the old man’s warnings were I you. He does not seem a fool or one to spout idle words.”
Tyne’s only reply was to laugh mockingly at his friend. They passed through the village and continued down the road, lost in the silence of their own wondering thoughts. They did not see the raven that ghosted silently behind them as they rode nor the arrow that felled the dark bird from the sky before it could pass along word of what it had observed to its fell masters. They found another place to camp and silently prepared for the night. As they sat about their fire, still lost in thought, though Tyne was partly silent out of his irritation with Bayard for believing the old man’s nonsense, two strangers entered the light of the fire. The boys each reached for the daggers they carried but soon realized a knife would not avail them against two men armed with swords. However, the weapons remained safely in their sheaths and the men politely asked if they could join the boys.
Bayard nodded eagerly, seeing something he liked or trusted in the face or manner of the two men. Tyne shrugged and figured the men would do as they pleased regardless. Said the first, “it is not often we see two boys wandering in the wide world alone and unarmed. From whence do you come and whither are you bound?”
Bayard said, “we come from a tiny village nearly a week’s ride to the south and our current goal is the Northern Mountains. However, we know little of the wide world and would be most grateful for any advice.”
“What is it you seek?” asked the second.
Tyne said, “who is it that wants to know?”
The first smiled, “it is wise to be wary in these dark days and drear lands. Fear not, we wish you no harm and hope only to aid you on your quest, whatever it be.”
Bayard said, “I am not sure what it is I seek. I once thought it was renown or wealth or power but now all seems but dross in my eyes.”
Tyne said, “my foolish friend has lost his vision but I still seek that which he has forsaken.”
The first said, “those mountains are not to be traveled lightly. Few that cross into them ever come out alive, for all manner of strange and wild folk and even stranger beasts inhabit those peaks. But it is said that those who are willing to risk life and limb to find what lies beyond the mountains may truly find what they seek even if they succumb to the perils of the mountains. But it is also said that those who come looking for temporal gain shall find only death, even if they survive.”
Tyne laughed, “you sound like that crazed old man. What treasure is hidden in those peaks that must be so well guarded even in myth and legend to keep men from coming to steal it away in droves? And what is it that lies beyond the mountains?”
The second said, “you should listen more closely to your ‘crazed old man,’ for he speaks wisdom. A great and wondrous Sea lies beyond the mountains and beyond that are the Bright Lands, which no mortal eye has ever glimpsed. If you wish to serve the King with all your heart and venture into the heights, you may find your heart’s desire but those seeking only selfish gain only find death.”
Tyne growled, “I suggest that both of you go find your own place to sleep. You have wearied me as much as that old man with your mythic blathering.”
The pair exchanged an unreadable look and the first man said, “as you wish it, though it would be wise to heed our words. Twice this day you have been warned.”
They vanished again into the night as suddenly as they had come, leaving Tyne to laugh himself to sleep and Bayard to wonder what it was he was actually seeking. The following morning, Tyne was in a delightful mood though it would sour slightly each time he thought about the strangers of the previous day and their inane warnings. He confronted Bayard, “are you still convinced these fools speak truly? I think they only pass along hearsay and are nothing more than gossip mongers. I will still let you accompany me into the mountains but please spare me the tedium of such talk as we had to endure yesterday. If you want to believe that drivel, that is your choice, but I do not wish to share in your delight.”
Bayard smiled sadly and said, “as you wish it. How long do you think until we reach the mountains?”
Tyne shrugged, “I have no idea. I hope before our food runs out.”
They saddled their horses and were soon on their way. They spoke no more of the strange warnings of the previous day and again fell into the easy friendship they had enjoyed since childhood. As they traveled north, the horizon was soon dominated by what must be those distant peaks. First they were little more than a dark line in the distance but with each passing mile they grew steadily larger until finally they stood among the foothills and the peaks dominated the sky. The intrepid pair had had no further incidents or adventures along the way and was quite eager to begin the ascent, though their food was nearly spent and the dire warnings were not completely forgotten.
A little path wound deeper into the hills and near a slanting signpost, stood a man with stooping shoulders and a voluminous beard. He greeted the travelers warmly and asked, “do you dare the mountains, my lads? I must warn you that it is certain death to go much beyond this point. If you do not fall afoul of the elves and wild beasts, there are stranger and more deadly evils lurking in the heights. It is said that even if one survives the climb to the peak, none can hope to live to see the other side, for even the air itself turns against mortal men at such a height.”
Tyne laughed, “you sound as farcical as every other man who has said as much. What is so important that men would be willing to die in the attempt to claim it and that such legends have grown up around it?”
The man said, “why the very meaning and purpose of life itself! The answers to all the questions of the universe. All hope, all beauty, all peace, all joy! But such is not to be revealed to mortal men. Those that venture forth trusting in the King have nothing to fear though death take them. All others shall forever be lost.”
“Why would that matter in the least?” asked the mystified Tyne.
The little man smirked, “for when one courts death it is good to know where one shall reside thereafter.”
Tyne snorted derisively but said nothing in reply. He turned to Bayard, “well?”
Bayard smiled, “I am quite eager to try this path but you might wish to reconsider, as not just one but four have now warned us of what lies ahead.”
Tyne sighed, “I am no coward. Let us away while the daylight lasts and may we swiftly forget the ramblings of this maniac and all his ilk! I will see what legends truly lurk in those heights and no midget prognosticating doom shall hinder me.”
Bayard exchanged a concerned look with the friendly man, who shook his head sadly. Without another word they took to their saddles and resumed their northward journey. The day soon began to fail and they found a place to camp not far from the road. They debated about a fire as it might draw unwanted attention to themselves from the fairyfolk that were rumored to live in these hills but it also might keep the lesser beasts at bay. Finally they built the fire, thinking it far better to face a sapient foe than to fall victim to a mindless beast alone in the dark. They sat quietly around the fire until Tyne mused, “what do you think really lies beyond? What have they gone to so much trouble to conceal?”
Bayard smiled, “can you not take these men at their word? I know to the very core of my being that they speak the truth. If they are right, you face not only mortal death but eternal darkness as well.”
“Me?” scoffed Tyne, “why must I face such things alone? Are you going to abandon me at the end then or have you given in to the nonsense spouted by lesser men?”
Bayard said, “I shall remain true no matter what befalls us but yes, I believe these men and make the ascent in hopes of serving the King.”
Tyne laughed coldly, “certainly a strange way of finding servants I t
hink. At least I shall die a free man.”
Bayard said quietly, “none of us are free men. We live either to serve the King or the Dark Lord, only in service to the King is true freedom.”
Tyne snorted, “you sound like that blighted old man! Where did this outburst come from?”
Bayard smiled sheepishly, “I do not know but I know it true.”
Tyne could only shake his head in wonder and roll over to find what sleep he could. Bayard lay awake long into the night, pleading with the darkness that perhaps his friend’s heart might also be touched before it was too late. He knew in his heart that neither of them would remain unchanged from this journey. Morning came and they moved higher into the mountains; the forest grew close and thick about them and the path became narrower, steeper, and harder to find. Finally they were forced to leave the horses and continue the ascent afoot. The sun was hot upon their backs and the insects buzzed incessantly in their ears in their insatiable thirst for blood. They emerged from the woods and stood on a rocky outcropping on the edge of a cliff that dropped sharply two hundred feet to a narrow valley below. The trees marched on endlessly up the slope until they vanished into a low cloud that had engulfed the entire top of the mountain. They sat down on two great stones that jutted from the earth to rest, though the sun was fierce and the insects fiercer.
Suddenly they stood, hearing movement among the trees and the slight crunch of rock beneath booted feet. The two boys exchanged a frightened look and reached for their knives, knowing there was little they could do against anyone or anything that might wish them harm. The noise grew louder among the trees they had just left as Bayard backed towards the edge of the cliff, hoping that with it at his back at least attack could not come from behind. He need not have worried about attack from behind for there was danger enough before him. A bowstring snapped and the arrow took Bayard in the chest; his eyes widened in pain and surprise for a moment but then he vanished over the precipice.
Tyne ran to the edge to see what had come of his friend. He lay unmoving at the bottom of the gorge with his neck and body bent at angles no living man could endure. He stood quickly, knowing there was nothing to be done for Bayard and faced again their hidden foes, but suddenly a great shadow blocked out the sun and a great shriek filled his ears. There came terrified shouting in an unknown language and the sound of fleeing feet from the direction of the trees. Tyne wondered what this new horror could be that would frighten away the unseen archers. A great bat winged reptile alighted in the rocky clearing but it did not immediately lunge at Tyne with its horrible teeth as he thought it would. It eyed him hungrily but then lost interest and began to preen itself as if it were some monstrous bird. A creature, for creature was the best name Tyne could apply to such an apparition, slid from the monster’s back. It stood like a man but seemed half again as tall as the tallest of our race and equally as broad. It was clad all in black armor with a terrifying array of weapons arranged about itself. Its eyes gleamed like red coals deep within the shadowy depths of its helm. Where clothing or skin should have peaked through there was only darkness deeper than the starless night.
Tyne was frozen in terror by the thing. Then the apparition spoke, “what is it you seek, fool? Only death awaits you here, as your friend has demonstrated. Would you end as he? Carrion for the birds? Or would you know what it is to truly live, to have power beyond mortal dreaming?”
Tyne stuttered, “anything is better than death! What is it you can offer?”
The thing laughed but there was nothing pleasant in the sound, “I offer nothing fool! But perhaps my master shall find you worth salvaging, else I can leave you here for the vultures.”
Tyne looked again upon the shattered remains of Bayard and then looked back at the apparition and its winged mount. He sighed, “very well, I shall see what this master of yours has for me. I am dead regardless, so what choice have I?”
The thing laughed again, “you do not. Come.”
The thing nearly tossed the boy into the saddle and then climbed up behind him with a strength and speed that defied mortality. The reptile screeched and was soon in the air winging its way quickly south. Tyne was terrified by the apparitions beneath and behind him. He felt some sadness at the loss of his friend but far more relief in having escaped such a fate himself. The boy was a fool! This was the fate his faith had earned him. Tyne shivered, wondering what his own future held. The monstrosity laughed coldly behind him as if it knew his thoughts.
Bayard felt the pain of the arrow in his chest, breathing became an agony, and then he felt himself fall. A sharp pain to his head had sent him reeling into darkness and then into a veiled half light, as if he lay in the sun with his eyes shut. The pain was gone and so was all the horror and fear of what had just come to pass. All he felt was a wonderful sort of peace and a warm wetness engulfing one foot. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself lying on a beach with one foot submerged in a seemingly endless sea that was clear as glass but whose hue was ten thousand different shades of blue and green and purple. Light played in the gentle ripples upon its surface but other lights like stars or fireflies lost in the deep flitted and danced in its depths. Bayard felt as if he might look at the water forever and be content to lose himself in such beauty but this was not the only marvel before him.
The light about him was that of morning in the spring when all is alive and aflutter with life and birdsong but there was no sun to cast such a radiance. It emanated from the north, across the vast sea, and he felt his heart yearning to go thence. He then glanced about himself and found an endless beach of soft white sand with nothing upon it but a small boat lying where the water lapped at the shore. He wondered at this for a moment then his gaze fell upon the mountains that bordered the beach, whose lofty heads were lost in the clouds or perhaps they had no top. The living rock was alive in every color of grey, blue, and black and streaked with veins of silver. Theirs was not the dull and drab hue of mortal stone but each pebble was more stunning than the most precious gem among living men. Upon their lower slopes Bayard could see vast forests and deep, green valleys, and here and there, the flash and play of light upon distant water. If one has seen a jungle on the slopes of a tropical mountain, this forest made its mortal counterpart look an unwatered desert wasteland.
He looked again to the boat and then towards the source of all the light and peace and joy in this strange new world. His entire being called him to climb into the tiny vessel and cross that vibrant sea, but a yet deeper part turned his eyes again to those mountains and the mortal world that must certainly lie beyond. He looked upon those cliffs with longing, wishing there was some small part he could yet play in the affairs of mortal men; that he somehow might be allowed to tell others what he himself had heard and to become a shield between the helpless and the darkness that yearned above all things to destroy them. “You want to go back?” came a shrill voice behind him.
Bayard’s eyes quickly sought out the source and found a gull perched on the bow of the boat. He was not surprised to find a talking bird in such a place but was quite astonished to find himself on his knees in awe and fear before such a lowly seeming thing. The gull seemed to find the whole thing quite amusing as it said, “you certainly could go back and render aid to yet living men but you cannot again live among them. But would you want to go back? What has anyone ever done for you? Why would you want to linger on in such a place of grief and sorrow when once you have been beyond all of that?”
Bayard could not meet the eyes of the bird but stared at the sand, grinning sheepishly, “I want the whole world to know what it is I have found! I want to do something worthwhile in service to the King, for my life was short and lived quite selfishly in ignorance of Himself. Why should I despise that which I have known all my life simply because I have glimpsed a brighter morning?”
“Well spoken,” squawked the gull, “as long as you have fully thought i
t out you may do as you wish, but know that you are not immune to sorrow, grief, humiliation, or pain though true death cannot take you twice. Neither can you settle down among them or go where you wish. It shall be at My bidding and direction that you serve and Mine alone.” Bayard did not need to ask Who this bird was, though he was a bit taken aback at His current appearance. The bird laughed in its own shrill way and said, “you cannot imagine the Creator of the universe in the guise of a seagull? It is quite ironic I suppose, but for the moment it is sufficient for both of us. Now are you sure?”
The boy finally felt an irresistible urge to lift his eyes and meet those of the gull. Somehow those beady eyes that were so cruel in mortal gulls held immense wisdom and power, but also unfathomable love for the wretched boy upon the beach. “There is one last thing,” said the gull quite seriously. At that moment the boy lost all conscious knowledge of himself and every selfish act, small sin, and intentional evil that he had ever committed played through his mind. It seemed an eternity of pain and sorrow and grief and humiliation until the boy came to himself and found himself lying prone on the beach, weeping as one bereft of his soul. A small wave suddenly washed over the boy and when it had retreated safely into the sea he found himself eye to eye with that strange bird. He cocked his head and said gently, “it is gone, all of it! Somewhere, perhaps in the deepest depths of the sea it yet dwells, but never more to be remembered by either of us. You have committed it to Me and I have removed it far from you.” The boy nodded and smiled a small, sad smile. The bird stared at him blankly until finally joy unthinkable stirred in his heart and blossomed upon his face. The bird smiled deeply and said, “then I commit you to others that they might set you upon your quest.” Then He was gone and the boy was alone on the beach.
He sat up and made to brush the sand from his chest but froze in astonishment. Gone was his ragged and travel-stained peasant garb and in its place he was clad all in white garments and silver armor. He laughed, for a sword rested firmly at his side, though he had never held such a weapon in his life he felt he knew full well the use of it. He glanced again at the rocky heights but knew to climb them was impossible. He looked first west and then east but white sand and rocky height and sparkling water ran for endless miles in either direction; he knew if he walked forever he would never come to their ending. But now what? He felt an urging to look again to the west and was not at all surprised to see a man mounted upon a great winged horse standing where only a moment before there had been nothing but empty, glorious beach. The man slid from the great horse’s back as Bayard rushed to meet him. They exchanged warm greetings, as if they were brothers or best friends long sundered through much sorrow and reunited with joy in the morning.
It was one of the men who had sat beside their fire what seemed a thousand years ago or perhaps something that happened in a dream. He smiled as recognition dawned in the boy’s eyes and then said, “I see you have made it.”
Bayard nodded, “I am still not sure what I have volunteered for but it seems far more wonderful than anything I could ever have imagined.”
The man grinned, “you have not seen anything yet! Come, we had best be on our way for there are things you must accomplish in the lands of mortal men.”
The man climbed back into his saddle and seemed to be waiting upon the boy to follow. The horse eyed the boy skeptically and said, “this is highly unusual, never to my knowledge has any Pegassi ever borne two riders of your sort. Where is the boy’s mount?”
The man said quietly, “he refused his calling and for now we must offer the boy our aid else he must walk.”
The horse made a disquiet sound deep in his throat and said, “this is quite unexpected and worse than tragic! To think that even the Pegassi might rebel against the King, but I suppose we have as much choice in the matter as all other thinking creatures. Come boy, it is time to ride.”
The boy looked a tad nervous, not quite understanding the conversation that passed betwixt the two but easily found his way into the saddle behind the man. The Pegassi turned slightly and with a great sweep of his wings all the world whirled around them and they found themselves standing in a little grove of trees not far off the road with an inn a little way down the road. Gone were the splendid clothes and the great horse and instead there stood two plainly clad men and as common a horse as one could find anywhere in the world. “Now,” said Ryan, “I will tell you a little about your new occupation before I set you upon your first quest, but much will come with experience or you will have the knowledge when you need it. We have passed beyond mortality but have not yet crossed over the Sea. If ever you grow weary, simply return to the beach and cross the Sea and enter the Brightlands, but you may never again return to the mortal world until the King Himself comes for the final battle against the Evil One.”
He continued, “we cannot again taste of natural death but we can feel pain and certain foes, spells, and weapons have the ability to cast us back to the beach and from thence we must again set out. You must always try but you may not always succeed. Sometimes our success depends upon the choices of mortal men and they must make their own decisions, we cannot force them and thus we might fail because they choose poorly. Know that our Master has already conquered death and evil but yet a little while it lingers still in this mortal sphere until all again shall be put aright. We appear in various forms to the inhabitants of these Greylands: sometimes we are not visible, sometimes in our true form though unable to touch mortal things, and at other times we are mortal ourselves, at least enough that we can aid those we must without alerting them to our rather strange nature.
You may deal no injury to mortal men though they may feel for a moment the pain as if you had struck them, but to the minions of our Enemy your blade can either destroy utterly or cause the villain to be banished back to his fell master for a time. In mortal guise, if given a mortal wound we may for a time appear dead, but in what form or shape we return depends upon our Master’s will and our current situation. We may simply vanish, take again our natural form, or perhaps even find ourselves whole in mortal guise once more. In mortal guise, mortal weapons can cause us injury and temporary harm. You will feel again sorrow and grief, especially for those who refuse our Master’s call, but you cannot despair or lose hope for ours is a Hope and a Joy which is boundless and ever new. Any questions?”
The boy’s eyes were wide as he tried to remember all that had suddenly been revealed and then he said, once he found voice enough to speak, “what was it you were saying back on the beach about it being strange that I have no mount?”
The man nodded and said, “each of us is paired with one of the Pegassi, they are a free and noble race that lives upon the seaward side of the mountains ever facing the Brightlands. It is their purpose and glory to aid us in our quest, but they have a choice whether to pursue that calling or not. Your intended companion refused, a thing rarely done in all the days since time began. As such, he is a rebel and has been banished to this side of the mountains in hopes that he might one day rue his pride and seek again the King’s mercy. The choice is yet his to make and what will become of the matter I know not. You will have help when you need it, fear not, for we are never alone.” Suddenly Ryan and his mount were gone and Bayard was left alone in the little copse. He wondered what he was to do next and felt a very strong urging to enter the inn and wait for what was to come.
Bayard waited patiently at a table near the door. Various patrons came and went, but none heeded him save a stranger sitting far to the back, who watched him intently. The presence of the dark man sent a cold thrill down Bayard’s spine and he knew there was something uncanny about the man. The door opened again and Bayard knew that his quarry had come. It was Ithril, Tyne’s younger brother. The boy looked a bit older than he had the day they left home; he seemed to recognize Bayard, for he started in surprise but soon smiled warmly in seeming relief. He seated himself across fro
m the older boy and said, “where have you been? Tyne returned home six months after you both left. He did not stay long nor would he say what had come of your adventures. He left soon after but promised to return which made me very uneasy. I decided it would be best if I were not home when he came back again.”
Bayard eyed the stranger cautiously before speaking, “your brother and I traveled into the far north of the world and attempted to climb the Mountains of Shadow. I was injured and fell down a cliff. I do not know what came of your brother but he left me for dead. What exactly do you plan to do with yourself now that you are loose in the wide world?”
The boy shrugged in embarrassment, his eyes still wide with amazement after Bayard’s story, he said, “I do not rightly know but I am to meet with a man tonight who might have an interesting offer to make.” Bayard eyed the stranger in alarm but Ithril’s attention was drawn to the door where a middle-aged man had just come in out of the night. He nodded to the boy and stared curiously at Bayard before taking a seat next to Ithril.
He said quietly, “I had not expected you to bring a friend, lad.”
The boy smiled, “I was not expecting him either. He and my brother were good friends once and I have not seem him in a year, but I found him here when I arrived.”
The man eyed the older boy curiously, “can you use that blade lad?”
Bayard smiled sheepishly, “it depends on who you ask. I am not much of a threat to mankind but neither am I completely useless.”
The man smiled in commiseration and said, “the bigger question is can you be trusted? Your young friend here has agreed to secrecy in this matter and if you wish to be part of it I ask that you do the same.”
Bayard said, “I shall certainly not betray you.”
The man nodded and said, “good, then we had best ride, for there are certain folk about I would like to avoid.”
Ithril and the man stood and headed for the door, but Bayard stood slowly and followed at a leisurely pace. As the others vanished into the night, the stranger stood and made for the back door of the inn. Bayard drew forth a dagger and threw it with the unerring accuracy of a master marksman. The stranger made a strangled sort of screaming sound and clutched at the dagger in his back momentarily before vanishing in a puff of smoke. The other patrons of the inn were wide eyed and watched in astonishment as the strange youth left the inn and sighed in relief once he was gone. There was no trace of either the dagger or the dark man. The exchange had taken barely a moment and Bayard’s companions failed to notice anything untoward had even happened.
Bayard thought perhaps he should feel a sense of remorse or disgust for dealing so with the Spy at the inn, but it was for this that he was abroad in the world: to protect mortal men from those servants of the Enemy against whom they stood no chance. They must deal with men of evil intent themselves but such a creature as this could not be dealt with by those that yet drew breath. They emerged from the inn and the man remarked, “I did not like the look of that shifty stranger and hope we will not have reason to regret his presence this night.”
Bayard smiled, “I do not think he will be bothering us, at least not tonight.”
The man eyed him curiously, “and why is that?”
Bayard shrugged, “just a hunch.”
“Perhaps,” said the older man, “but more importantly, do you have a horse?”
Bayard said sheepishly, “I am afraid my mount and I have been sundered and alas, I am afoot at the moment.”
The man turned to Ithril, “and you?”
The boy said matter-of-factly, “my brother took my father’s only spare horse and when I left home he would not lend me so much as a sway-backed mule.”
The man sighed, “then I guess we had best start walking as fast and as far as we can while the moon lasts.” He took the reins of his own beast and they set off quickly afoot. They walked silently until they were well away from the inn and then the man began to speak quietly but firmly saying, “you are both well aware of the Dark Prince who lurks far to the south while his servants prey upon whom they will. Are you also aware that there are those who dare to stand against such vile men?” Ithril looked hopeful and Bayard listened closely but remained silent.
The man continued, “most consider such men fools or myth, but they are very real, if quite secretive in their habits and movements. It is for this very reason we have come together this night, or at least why Ithril has sought me out. Our as yet nameless friend seems to be here by coincidence but I do not believe in coincidence. What brings us together lad? Is it providence that you have found us or are you one of the Enemy’s many spies, sent to find and destroy us?”
Bayard said, “perhaps you could call it providence, but I can assure you that I am no servant of the dark.”
The man nodded firmly and said, “you certainly sound as if you speak the truth, but time shall reveal what it will. You seem far too young to have fallen into evil, but this boy’s brother is of an age with you and I know he has come to dabble in things best left alone. You were once friends? Tell me how it is that he comes to be a servant of the darkness and you are not of the same ilk?”
Bayard said quietly, “we traveled together for a time, as Ithril has said, but we were parted and afterwards I know not what came of him. But I do know he had an insatiable thirst for power and renown, which I fear led him into darkness. I did not share his longings.”
“What then is it you seek lad?” asked the man.
Bayard smiled, “that I was hoping you would tell me. For I am yet in search of my current purpose and quest.”
The man smiled, “then perhaps you have found it. If you are interested, I can tell you more of the Whiteguard, the perennial enemy of the Dark Prince’s Blackguard.” Both of the boys nodded eagerly and the man continued, “very well then. We are free men who have chosen to dedicate our lives to opposing the human servants of the Dark Prince. We are servants of the Great King and therefore uphold His laws, defending the helpless from the minions of evil. We are not as numerous as the minions of the south, but we are well trained in the arts of war and have allies in all lands willing to aid and hide us as they can. We do not fight outright battles but fall upon small groupings of enemy soldiers, patrols, scouts, and raiding parties. It is a dangerous life but I know none so worthwhile or exciting. If you are looking for something to do with your lives it is an honorable life though you shall never gain riches or renown.”
Ithril was agape with wonder and a bit taken aback at mention of the Great King. Bayard smiled slightly in thoughtful amusement, thinking that he would have been wiser to take up with such men rather than to so foolishly attempt the mountains. These men risked death on behalf of others; he had walked willingly to his doom after ample warning and for no good reason.
“And who is to say you did not have a good reason?” asked the magpie sitting on his shoulder. Bayard jumped in surprise but the others did not seem to notice the bird or his reaction to it. It continued, “some are called to one thing and some to another path. I called and you answered. Do not regret what might have been, for things can only be as they are. I know the what ifs and the maybes but it is only for you to know what is and what has been and to see what yet shall be.” He was gone as suddenly as He had appeared. Bayard shook his head in astonishment, wondering if he would ever get used to such things.
Ithril continued as if the whole interlude with the bird had taken place in no time at all, “must you serve this Great King in order to take up with the Whiteguard?”
The man nodded, “many think Him myth at first, but all must serve Him willingly or you can have no part in us or we in you. It is a brotherhood devoted to His service and His alone. Otherwise we would just be serving ourselves and would soon fall to the evils of pride and selfishness and become nothing more than another bandit horde depredating whom we would. And what think you on the matter lad?”
Bayard smiled, “I am at the service of the King and gladly do His will.”
Ithril gaped, “are you serious?”
Bayard laughed, “your brother thought me equally foolish, but I pray you do not follow his tragic example.”
Ithril sighed, “I suppose I should withhold judgment until I have learned more, for I am yet ignorant of such things.”
The man laughed, “now there is wisdom lad. Fear not, for many things thought to live only in story actually dwell in the real world, though it might be a safer world if some such things were only myth.”
The moon had vanished beyond the distant hills and the night grew very dark. They found a secluded place to camp and were soon asleep though Bayard was in no need of such rest. He needed neither sleep nor food nor water and only appeared to draw breath that others not wonder why he did not breath. Bayard kept a careful watch but no fell thing disturbed their slumber. In the morning, the man passed around some rations from his saddlebags and then they continued on their way. “We really need to get the pair of you mounted,” said the man in good-natured irritation, “else you will be my age before we reach the nearest company of the Guard.”
At this, they turned off down a side road and pressed hard all morning, arriving outside the gates of a well-to-do lord near midday. Ithril gave Bayard a nervous look and the guards at the gate eyed the strangers suspiciously before saying, “and what would such a trio of wandering ragamuffins demand of our Lord?”
The man did not seem offended or intimidated in the least and said, “we would wish an audience with Lord Colwin if he would deign to see us this day. We were friends long ago, very nearly brothers; our need is great else I would not dare intrude upon his Lordship’s invaluable time.”
The guard eyed him skeptically and said, “and who should I say is daring to bother his lordship?”
The man said, “one whose name is not worth remembering.”
The guard gave him a dangerous look and said, “I shall carry your message but know I am within my rights to deal with you harshly if this is some trick or a waste of my time.”
The man nodded solemnly and said, “I expected nothing else.”
The guard raised an eyebrow but hurried off with the message. Ithril was impatient with nervousness but Bayard and the man seemed unconcerned with the interminable wait. The guard finally returned and said quite formally but with no little amazement, “his lordship will deign to see you but you must not trouble him long. Come.”
They followed the guard into the courtyard where the man left his horse with an attendant and then they followed the guard deep into the heart of the great house wherein sat the lord. The lord sat before a great fire stroking a grey cat upon his lap; he looked up with some surprise at his visitors but wasted no time in signaling for the guard to leave them in peace. Another look of surprise crossed the guard’s face but he quickly bowed and retreated. The three strangers bowed before his lordship, who spoke even before the door had shut behind the retreating guard, “it has been a long time Jaden, in fact I thought never to see you again. Is it not dangerous to have such as yourself consorting with an upstanding lord such as myself? How is it you have survived all this time?”
The man smiled bemusedly and said, “I thought never again to see you, for fear of bringing the wrath of my enemies upon you, but it is a desperate thing that drives me to beg at your door. I will be gone again as soon as I can. But it is good to see you once more.”
Colwin laughed, “ever the idealist I see! You are ever welcome though your enemies certainly are not. I know why you have stayed away but I must say that I have missed you. Now what is this dire need that forces you to visit your brother once more?”
Jaden said, “these boys actually. I fear we have enemies not far behind us and they are afoot. I would beg the use of a pair of horses if you can spare them.”
Colwin shook his head, “most of my horses are out in the fields or assigned to my soldiers, save one beast whose master has taken ill. There is also quite a magnificent specimen of recent acquisition but no man can sit upon him and live to tell the tale. I can give you the unfortunate’s beast and you may take your chances with the other.”
Jaden bowed deeply and said, “you have my deepest thanks!”
Colwin laughed, “by rights all of this should be yours. The least I can do is loan you a horse. Will you yet deny your birthright?”
Jaden smiled as if this were an old argument and said, “perhaps my birthright but not my heart’s desire. I have found my true calling and nothing save death will sunder me from it.”
Colwin shook his head sadly, “and that is what I fear shall be your only reward for your foolishness! Let us pray you have not brought disaster upon all our heads. You had best be gone before more of the household learns of your presence. There will be rumors enough as it is.” The lord stood and briefly embraced his brother before chasing them from the room and giving the servant at the door explicit instructions as to how his visitors were to be horsed. The servant’s eyes were wide but he bowed deeply and led the strangers to the stableyard. Colwin watched his brother vanish out the door and wondered at the tales that had captured his heart and consumed his life. What could tempt a man away from a life of relative wealth and security when the majority of humanity toiled in ignominy and often lacked the nicer comforts of life? He wondered if he would ever see him again and part of him enviously wondered if he could ever find such purpose. He returned to his chair and his cat and stared into the answerless fire.
The spare horse was saddled and brought forth. Ithril looked at the beast with trepidation, not having spent nearly as much time in the saddle as his elder brother. Jaden said, “I fear you will have to ride double, but at least it will be far swifter than walking.”
Bayard said, “let me at least see this terrible beast of which his lordship spoke. Perhaps we can get some use out of him and thereby hasten our travel.”
The servant’s eyes were as wide as they could possibly get when he said, “you may try the beast but only a fool would attempt such an act!”
Bayard nodded and said, “it will not hurt to at least have a look at him.”
The servant nodded and led the boy to a small corral constructed of sturdy logs at the center of which stood a thick post driven deeply into the ground to which was tied the most fantastic horse any mortal eye had ever beheld. A wild light burned in his eyes and no one who knew anything of horses would get near the beast unless he was suicidal. He was bound head and foot with length upon length of rope but even so, a deadly menace seemed to emanate from the creature. Jaden said in quiet wonder, “you had best come along lad, no mortal man can ride that beast.”
Bayard nodded and said, “I will not be content until I have at least spoken to the creature.”
The servant laughed in derision, “you are a fool to think such a monster can be reasoned with!”
Bayard paid him no heed and was already straddling the fence and leaping into the pen. The horse laid his ears back and the whites of his eyes were visible all the way across the pen. His nostrils flared and the threat of imminent doom tingled in the air. Bayard showed no sign of fear or even caring, making the others wonder if he knew anything of horses at all or if he were simply a fool. He whispered quietly to the horse once he was close enough to be heard, but the others could only discern a sort of murmuring which they took for a foolish attempt at soothing the wild creature. Bayard said, “I know you are angry, frustrated, humiliated, lost, and despairing of all hope. Has freedom truly been worth the price? Are you truly free? Is this what you aspired to be one day?”
The horse’s ears pricked in surprise and all signs of malice were replaced by those of utter confusion. “Who are you,” said the horse quietly, “that would speak to a wretched beast so and what would you have of me?”
Bayard said, “who I am matters not, but our need is
great. I would ask that you bear me from this place to one where another, more willing mount can be acquired.”
The horse snorted in derision, “so you are simply another man who wishes to enslave my noble race?”
Bayard said, “I ask, I do not demand. A slave has no choice. I can simply walk away and leave you as you are if you refuse me.”
The horse sneered, “so you would leave me in the hands of these barbarians to be a slave for all my mortal days?”
The boy said, “what would come of you if you were loosed? Were you not once free already? Were you not taken by men and would you not be taken again? I ask only that you bear me for a short time, which will also avail your escape. Once free of civilized lands you can find a desolate place more to your liking away from the habitations of men to live out the rest of your days in peace.”
The horse sighed, “and what is that to me? A life of slavery or exile holds little joy yet death is even worse! Must I endure a few years of suffering and sorrow only to be cast forever into such a miserable place that my former days appear joyful by comparison? What is the point of anything?”
The boy asked, “are you so bereft of hope?”
The horse eyed him as if he were a fool, “I am a rebel and a traitor in the eyes of my people and my rightful King. I have denied everything in hopes of gaining true freedom only to find myself truly a slave and forever doomed to such an existence. I have been granted my heart’s desire and find it deeply distasteful but alas, my rightful portion.”
“Is there no hope?” asked the patient boy.
The horse said, “perhaps for your miserable race but not for mine. I have denied the King and there is the end of the matter.”
The boy smiled, “why is my rebellious race spared but yours is not?”
The horse asked skeptically, “what do you mean? The King offers redemption to fallen men but I have never heard it spoken that my race was in need of such an offer.”
The boy’s smile deepened, “and how many of your race have fallen into disgrace as did the forefathers of men?”
The horse’s eyes were wide, “none I suppose. Do you mean to say that my disgrace is no worse than the fathers of men millennia ago? If that be true then perhaps even such a wretch as I can yet be rescued from impending doom! I have been a fool but perhaps no longer. Things would have been so much better had I simply done that which I knew I should have at the first. But perhaps all is not irrevocably lost.”
Bayard smiled, “now what of that which I ask of you?”
The horse snorted, “it is highly demeaning for one of my race to carry one of yours, at least in this fallen sphere. Perhaps in another place and time however?”
The boy said simply, “can things get any more demeaning in your case? Would you again let your pride keep you from that which you know is your rightful duty?”
The horse sighed, “I suppose you must be right but I will carry no servant of the Evil One nor one bent on his own pleasure. Tell me truly if you serve the King and it is at His behest you ride on some errand of import?”
The boy said, “this errand is truly of His making and I am but the least of His servants. You must know also that the servants of the Enemy are certainly pursuing us.”
The horse snorted in excitement, “now then this is an errand to my liking but what if I am simply using this as an excuse to free myself and abandon you to your fate the first chance I get?”
The boy said, “then you are a deceitful and selfish creature wholly bent on your own advancement and a true servant of the Enemy whether you have declared for him or not.”
The horse snorted in amusement, “fear not, for I shall keep my word. You have given me hope and for that I shall do as you ask.”
The boy said, “do it for the King and His glory, not for the sake of such a lowly creature as I.”
The horse nodded, “truly spoken, now let us be on our way. Know that it is a thing never done, for my noble race to bear a mortal man.”
The boy smiled quietly but made no reply as he began loosing the horse, which took a considerable amount of effort owing to the number of ropes that bound him. The three spectators were aghast but dared not interfere in case the horse take a fright and injure the boy worse than he already might. Finally the task was completed and the horse ran and bucked and frisked about the enclosure as the boy called, “bring me a saddle and bridle please.”
The servant was near to fainting with shock but ran to accomplish the task as the horse approached the boy and quietly groused, “if this thing is to be done I will not be arrayed as a common beast of burden.”
The boy laughed, “if you wish to reveal your true nature to all and sundry feel free but you need to at least look the part else awkward questions will arise. I did not say I would use such implements to force you. In truth you could easily unseat me and be off to adventures of your own did I try.”
The horse nodded at this seeming sense and said, “as long as we are agreed, I shall do what I must. But I am no slave but a willing accomplice.”
The boy smiled, “as it ever should be.”
The servant soon returned with the requested gear and the horse stood patiently while the boy tacked him up and only showed minor reluctance in taking the bit. The boy was soon in the saddle and the servant opened the gate while the horse trotted out as if he had been doing so his entire life. Jaden gasped, “how did you tame such a beast? Are you some wizard or other fell worker of dark magics?”
The boy laughed, “be it far from me to ever attempt such a horrid thing! Sometimes a few gentle and sensible words go much farther than all the whips and ropes in the world. Had we not best be getting on?”
The man suddenly remembered their precarious circumstances and quickly got into his own saddle while the awkward Ithril did likewise. They were soon on their way, leaving the servants to wonder if some sort of a sorcerer had not indeed spirited away that terrible horse, much to the relief of all. Once they were well away from the lands of Lord Colwin, Jaden said, “now we must ride swiftly lest the time we lost afoot be used to the advantage of those who might be following. I do not trust the look of the man at the inn, though he is not currently a threat I do not doubt he has friends.” He turned and gave Bayard a significant look, “after recent happenings boy, I am not sure I trust you fully either, but you have been true so far so I am forced to trust you. Do nothing to disappoint me; you claim to follow the King and it seems you tell the truth, but you would be wise to leave now if you mean any harm to me or mine.”
Bayard bowed in his saddle and said, “you shall suffer no hurt on my behalf sir. I am ever your ally as long as you are faithful to the King.”
He then turned to Ithril, “you seem in doubt of the sanity of this expedition lad. You had best make a commitment one way or the other, for as long as you ride with us you are vulnerable to the servants of the Enemy, and even if you part from us you may still be at risk for even having ridden with us.”
Ithril sighed, “I need to know more of this King of yours. I still half think him a myth but perhaps tonight, between you both I can learn what I must to come to a decision. I greatly wish to oppose the Dark Prince and escape the snare I fear my brother has laid for me.”
They rode hard after that and there was little time for talk. For two days they pressed on as fast as the horses could go over such a distance and had little time or energy at night for anything but falling into their blankets and finding what sleep they could. Finally, Jaden slowed their pace, content that perhaps they had outrun any pursuit the Enemy might have sent after them. That night, Ithril had the energy to listen to Jaden as he spoke of the many legends of the King and His servants and the rebellion and redemption of mankind. As they fell into their blankets that night, Ithril asked of Bayard, “how did you tame that horse? I do not recall you ever having any special talent with the lesser beasts.”
> Bayard laughed, “let us just say I have learned a few things in my travels. Have you made up your mind?”
Ithril sighed, “it all sounds so wonderful and amazing yet some part of me wishes it were all truly a story. Why cannot man just live as he wishes and then die and know no more?”
Bayard said, “because we were made and intended for far greater things than our meager minds can even fathom or dream. Why be content to splash in the shallows when the whole ocean is yours to explore?”
Ithril yawned, “I suppose you must be right but for now I will go to sleep.”
Bayard got up and walked towards Jaden, who was sitting up for the first watch. Jaden said as the boy approached, “shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Bayard shrugged and said, “I am not tired and lying still, staring into the darkness is of no use. I might as well take the first watch if it means you can get some rest.”
The man nodded his thanks but wondered if the boy did not have some sinister motive in his seeming kindness. Jaden retreated to his blankets but sleep was long in coming. Bayard waited and watched the night; he was restless and knew something lurked in the dark outside the camp. They had traveled swiftly but no horse can outrun certain of the Enemy’s minions. The horses whinnied in fear as a desolate and bone chilling howl filled the night, which brought both of the sleepers wide awake. Jaden struggled out of his blankets and reached grimly for his sword, knowing it was no use, saying, “you two had best ride. I cannot stop a Fellhound but perhaps I can slow him down or maybe he will be content with me.”
Ithril stuttered in fear, “I thought they were just myths!”
Bayard said grimly, “only as mythic as his master and the King. You might want to make your decision quickly for death stalks the night.”
Ithril gasped, “is there no hope?”
Jaden snorted, “there is always some hope, for the King has servants abroad in the world just as the Enemy, but there is no guarantee of rescue from such a foe. We mere mortals cannot hurt the beast and once they have found your scent nothing will stay him from the chase save his destruction or ours. Now ride!”
Bayard said, “I will make a stand rather than be chased down and destroyed while I flee blindly into the night.”
Jaden said, “you are either mad, in league with the Enemy and thus have no fear, or braver than any man I have ever heard of.”
Bayard drew his sword and said, “you two had best get moving before your horses break loose or die of fright.”
Jaden growled, “I thought to make my stand. Besides, I am the one giving orders here!”
Bayard laughed, “is there any point in two dying here rather than one? Besides, I am not yet under your command!”
Jaden sheathed his blade and said, “you are certainly a stubborn one, lad. I will give you this chance though I doubt any of us will live to see the morning.” With that, he took Ithril by the shoulder and guided the frozen boy to the panicked horses, which were desperate to run. There was no sign of Bayard’s mad horse. They mounted quickly and let the horses have their heads and were soon well and truly gone. The howl sounded again in the night, this time closer.
“What are you doing?” asked the voice of the horse from behind Bayard, “perhaps you can tame a wild horse but I doubt your charms will work on that thing!”
Bayard smiled in anticipation, “I am not planning to soothe the wild beast save perhaps with my sword.”
The horse snorted, “did you not listen to what the other man said? They do not die so easily as you might think upon a mortal blade!”
Bayard said, “if you are afraid, you may go and I will count your promise fulfilled, otherwise do not distract me.”
The beast came out of the night slowly, sniffing the air and growling under his breath. He was blacker than a starless midnight with glowing coals for eyes. He was as big as a small horse and though hound like, he had a certain reptilian cast. He sniffed cautiously at the pair before him, not quite knowing what to make of either creature. He whined pathetically and a voice spoke out of the dark, “how is it you have not fled? Come to beg for your life or that of your friends?”
Bayard said, “be gone and leave us be or I shall make an end of your beast and therefore yourself, Houndmaster.”
The shadow draped man laughed derisively, “you are of no account boy. You or your pathetic companions, but my master has commanded that an end be made of you and that is what shall happen unless you bend knee to the Dark.”
Bayard said quietly, “I bend knee to the King alone as all shall do one day, even your fell lord.”
The dark man laughed, “so be it. Take him!” He motioned and the hound was upon Bayard faster than sight, but the boy’s sword was up and the creature leapt full upon it. It whined pathetically, which escalated into a howl of absolute and utter despair as it vanished in a wisp of acrid smoke that blew away on a sudden breeze. The Houndmaster’s eyes widened, he himself became misty and then transparent, and then vanished entirely, leaving the horse and boy alone in the night.
The horse’s eyes were no less wide as he looked at the boy. The weight of the beast had knocked Bayard to the ground but as he climbed to his feet, he did not seem injured in the least. “What is going on?” said the horse darkly, “you have not told the full truth. Who or what are you? How do you know what you know about me? How is it you can stand against such a foe and live?”
The boy said quietly, “I have told you as much as I can for the moment, perhaps one day you will know the full tale. But then neither have you told me all your story. If that is not to your satisfaction I suggest you find another companion.”
The horse said quietly, “this puzzles me greatly, but I must be content for the moment. I will accompany you a little longer and perhaps I can discover the answer to this riddle.”
The boy said, “we had best go find the others.”
The horse nodded and the boy was soon on his back, pursuing his fled companions. They had not far to go, for the others had fled out of one danger into one perhaps far worse. A full dozen men in dark armor had surrounded the pair, who were desperately flailing about with their swords, trying to ward off the host while a Wraith sat his hideous mount not far away and scowled, “take them alive you fools!”
The horse whispered to the boy as they charged, “you are seriously going to take on a Wraith?”
The boy laughed, “is there anyone else here to do it? Are you with me?”
The horse sighed, “perhaps it will not be long and I shall see my homeland again.” He screamed in fury as he charged the monstrosity and Bayard drew his sword once more.
The Wraith looked a man but was colder than death in both his manner and to the touch; such creatures were masters of all sorts of magic vile and dark. Their preferred mounts were of an equine visage but like the Fellhound, had a vaguely reptilian feel to them and seemed part of the night itself. He laughed scornfully as the fool boy charged and eagerly spurred his beast to meet the challenge. One touch of his blade was inevitably fatal to any mortal so wounded; the beast was always hungry for fresh meat and croaked in anticipation of the coming feast. The Wraith could have simply destroyed the pair with one of his many evil enchantments but he preferred to watch his victims die slowly in despair as they succumbed to what might otherwise have been a minor wound. He easily cut the horse out from under the impetuous fool; the beast fell with the horrible scream of the mortally wounded equine and Bayard barely managed to jump free before the poor creature fell.
The Wraith dismounted ere his beast could set upon the boy and approached ominously, much anticipating the spectacle to come. The boy held his sword before him and then their weapons clashed together. They exchanged several blows as the Wraith toyed with his prey before striking like a snake. A slash on the boy’s shoulder would ensure a slow and amusing death and the boy’s counterstroke would be completely harmless to suc
h as himself, except that this was not simply an ambitious boy but one of the King’s Messengers. The counterstroke took the Wraith in the chest and he fell to ash and charred bone as the stroke fell; the beast met a similar fate. Bayard went to his knees and clutched at his wounded shoulder; it burned like ice but was already beginning to heal. Had he been yet a mortal man, the creeping death would have spread slowly across his chest and frozen his breath in his lungs and stilled his heart. As one beyond death, it was simply a minor irritation though a mortal wound would have banished him back to the Sea.
He stood and looked sadly at the horse and wondered what future lay before the poor beast. He then turned his eyes back to his embattled companions who had been forgotten for the moment as he took on the Wraith. There was now a full scale battle raging as a dozen men had ridden out of the night to rescue the overwhelmed pair. The Blackguard was soon overwhelmed and those not killed were quickly driven off as they witnessed the demise of their leader and lost their sense of invincibility, for what terrible enemies were these that could defeat such a creature? The newcomers were making quite a fuss over the rescued Jaden and Ithril, the latter seemed on the verge of fainting with the strangeness of the night. It seemed this was one of the roving bands of the Whiteguard and of this particular unit Jaden was captain. In the excitement, none had noticed the Wraith, Bayard, or the strange battle. Bayard decided to make his way back towards the camp before anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary. Thankfully the darkness covered his retreat as well as it had covered his entrance and the men were so lost in their jubilation that he was easily overlooked, for it would be quite difficult to explain what exactly it was that had transpired this night.
The pale grey of dawn was just visible in the east as Bayard crept back into the little wooded dell where they had taken cover for the night but there was a different sort of light filling the little glade. There stood a Pegassi stallion in all his glory. He whinnied for joy when he saw the boy creeping into the dell. Bayard was for a moment stunned to see such a sight in such a place, but then the marvelous creature spoke with the familiar voice of the horse in laughing joy, “at last I understand.”
And suddenly he was just an ordinary horse again, standing there looking as regular and boring as a horse might. Bayard asked, “what happened?”
Erian laughed, “in my rebellion I became mortal and therefore doomed to die, but not forever as those poor souls who refuse the King. And so I did. I met the King upon the shore of the Sea and He asked again if I would do that for which my race was made, else I could cross the Sea and come back no more until the Last Day. I finally said yes, and it seems at last you are properly horsed and I am doing that for which I was made!”
Bayard smiled, “welcome home my friend. Now what?”
Erian said, “we are to ride with these men for a time and protect them from those foes they cannot handle themselves. I think it will be rather awkward for you at least, but then it has been such since first we met! Ware, they are even now upon us.”
Jaden crept into the clearing with drawn sword and the others followed cautiously. He dropped his sword in amazement when he saw the boy standing alive in the morning sun and his fool horse cropping away at the grass as if he were in a familiar pasture. “How?” gasped the amazed man.
“How what?” asked Bayard a bit sheepishly.
Jaden said quietly, “I thought we had seen the last of you. Where is the Fellhound?”
Bayard said, “he did me no harm. I do not know where it now dwells, but I have not seen it since you two rode off. Who are your friends?”
Jaden quickly told the tale, which Bayard already knew, and finished by saying, “I could have sworn there was a Wraith or some such thing directing those men, but who knows what really happened this night? Let us rest here for the day and this evening we’ll take to the road. I still do not know how the boy survived?”
One of the older men laughed saying, “how did any of you survive this night? Perhaps he was not the thing’s rightful quarry therefore it did him no harm. Let us all just thank the King we have survived and rest while we can.”
Two men stayed up to watch while the rest took what rest they could. Ithril whispered to Bayard as they crawled into their blankets, “what a night! I am not sure I was made for all of this excitement but then I do not think I was made to walk behind a plow either.”
Jaden laughed beside him, “this is the most excitement I have had in twenty years in the Guard and hopefully it shall be the most excitement I ever have, else I am getting too old for such adventures!”
Ithril yawned and replied, “then perhaps I can consider such a career after all.” They exchanged a laugh and were soon asleep.
Late afternoon crept upon them and all climbed into their saddles to put some distance between themselves and the place where the Enemy knew they had last been. They rode steadily until there was no more light to see and they were forced to make camp. “Captain,” said one of the younger men in the party quietly to Jaden as the others were busy making camp, “who are these newcomers? I do not think I trust them, at least not the older of the pair. No one faces a Fellhound and lives, save perhaps a servant of the Enemy.”
The captain nodded thoughtfully, “the younger of the two is still something of a skeptic but I yet have hope for him. The other is certainly an oddity; I have no reason to distrust him but there are so many strange occurrences surrounding him that I know not what to think.”
The younger man said, “I think I will keep a close eye on him if I have your leave. The last thing we need are spies and traitors in our midst.”
The captain nodded grimly and said, “I think that would be an excellent idea but speak of this to no one but me.”
They rode on for several days and resumed the patrol that the incursion of the Blackguard had interrupted, but nothing of note happened. The others in the party spoke eagerly with Ithril but they felt awkward and unsure around Bayard and for the most part ignored him unless they stared at him suspiciously when they thought he was not looking. Bayard took no notice of their behavior for he knew there were things about himself that he could not explain and without that, they had only their imaginations to explain things which was far from satisfactory and often stranger than the truth. One night, one of the scouts came back with a report of an encampment of the Blackguard not far to the south. Jaden ordered his men into their saddles and they rode to confront their perennial foes.
When they arrived at the campsite, they found it abandoned but had no time to ponder what this might mean for the horses suddenly went mad with terror and their ranks were thrown into chaos. A Dreadlord upon his fell winged reptile stepped into their midst and men were thrown to the ground or carried off by their panicked mounts. The Blackguard had seen the scout and retreated so that they might ambush their attackers. As the horses panicked, so did the hidden Blackguard fall upon their scattered enemies. Erian was the only horse in the entire Whiteguard that did not panic but Bayard’s heart sank as he somehow recognized this particular Dreadlord as Tyne. Tyne easily recognized Bayard and a dreadful curiosity mixed with a sneer spread across his face. “You are dead,” said Tyne incredulously.
Bayard unsheathed his sword and said simply, “it seems you are worse than dead.”
Tyne laughed in his own horrible way, “I have found true power!”
Bayard shook his head sadly, “you have found a living death.”
Tyne mocked, “and what of you? What kind of an existence have you discovered? I am immortal and you are still but a wretched boy! Give me my brother and I shall perhaps spare you.”
Bayard glanced around and could see none of the others, for they had been scattered with the appearance of the Dreadlord. Bayard said, “he is not mine to give or to keep but I shall defend his life with my own.”
Tyne scoffed, “you have no life to give! You are but a ghost and I shall give
you a second death.”
He spurred the winged reptile forward and Erian screamed his battle cry. Their swords clashed together as battle was met. Bayard took a glancing blow on the shoulder the Wraith had injured previously and it felt like hot iron had been thrust into the nearly healed wound. He screamed but managed to drive his own blade into Tyne’s chest. The winged reptile screamed as it fell to dust and Tyne vanished with a howl and breath of smoke. Bayard knew it was not the last time they would meet. As Erian turned, Bayard saw Jaden fighting desperately with two of the Blackguard. Erian said quietly, “this is a foe against which your sword will not avail.”
Bayard sheathed his blade and sighed, “I know but I wish there was something I could do.” The captain managed to fell one of his foes but was mortally wounded by the other, but he returned the favor before he fell to the ground and lay still. With the loss of the Dreadlord, the horses quieted and the heart went out of the Blackguard, allowing the Whiteguard to fight back and win the day though not without a cost. Several were wounded and the captain was dead; they had also lost several of the horses, which had either been killed or had run off in terror at sight of the Dreadlord. There was also the question of treason to be addressed.
The suspicious young soldier who had previously spoken to the captain about his mistrust of Bayard spoke up before the entire discouraged company, “this man is a traitor and a spy! I saw him stand by as the captain fought for his life and he did nothing!” The man pointed blatantly at Bayard and the gathered company murmured darkly, for they were greatly upset at both the ambush and the loss of their leader and had always been distrustful of the boy. The man continued, “what has he to say for himself on that point? What has he to say about all the strange goings-on that seem to surround him? There can be no other explanation than that he has betrayed us to the Enemy, perhaps on multiple occasions!”
They looked accusingly at Bayard who said, “I can offer no testimony in my own defense save that I am as grieved by the captain’s loss as any of you.”
“Hah,” scoffed his accuser, “then why did you not render him aid even if it came too late?”
Bayard said quietly, “there was nothing I could have done though every fiber of my being wished to do something.”
The young man continued, “did anyone see him confronting the Blackguard? Where was he during the fighting?”
Ithril spoke up nervously, “is this not what the Enemy would want? Infighting within the ranks of his foes? Your late captain certainly would not approve.”
The man scoffed, “and who are you to speak up? You who are perhaps in league with this spy?” Ithril dropped his eyes and mumbled something inaudible. Said the suspicious soldier, “let us have a vote and see if this company is willing to continue trusting this wretch!” There were many murmurs of ascent and the vote was called. None voted in favor of the boy and Ithril dared not vote at all. “Now,” said the ringleader darkly, “we have declared him a spy and we shall dispense with him as our laws demand.”
The soldier raised his sword and Ithril screamed in terror, “no!”
Bayard waited patiently and made no move towards his own blade but said simply, “this is not justice but murder!” He said no more, for the sword was raised and as the man struck the fatal blow, the boy vanished in a flash of light, making all wonder what had happened; his horse also vanished that day.
“What happened,” gasped one of the men, “there was something truly unnatural about that boy and I begin to wonder if he was rather a servant of the King than of the Enemy?”
Snarled the murderous soldier, “he was nothing but a spy and this proves it. What of you boy? Will you admit your own vile connections?” Ithril’s eyes filled with tears and he ran from the murderous band without a second look. “Let the fool go,” growled the soldier still holding his sword.
“I think I will go too,” said one soldier, “I have been a fool and have not the heart to remain in the same unit that would vote to do such a thing so rashly!”
“Go then,” snarled the suspicious man, “and take all such heretics with you!” The entire band stood as one and left the man alone with his wrath. They disbanded that night and some sought service with another band of the Guard, while others settled down and raised a family, and still others went from place to place speaking of the King. The angry man went south and was never seen among living men again.
Ithril found himself weeping alone in the night with no idea where he was or why. He had come to hope that this King might actually be real but if this were what His followers were like it must truly be myth. “You judge Me by the failings of mortal men?” squawked a magpie from the branch above his head.
Ithril looked up in astonishment, “who are you?” The bird just looked at him and he nodded thoughtfully, “I suppose You must be right but what have I to do with You?”
The bird laughed, “the better question is what have I to do with any sort of fallen creature such as yourself? But yet I would have none lost but alas, some choose poorly and I will not renege on My gift that they might choose their own fates. Now what of your choice?”
The boy gaped, “I would very much like to be on Your side Sir, but I fear I am not of much use.”
Laughed the bird, “all I need is a willing heart, I will provide the rest as it is needed in your service. Here then is what you shall do…”
Bayard awoke on the Beach, with the gentle waves lapping at his feet. Erian stood at his shoulder and nudged him gently with his muzzle. He put a hand to his head and shakily stood; Erian whinnied his approval and set to bucking and rearing in his excitement, saying, “it is good to be home once more.”
Bayard shook his head in amusement at the Pegassi’s antics; his smile deepened as he looked further up the beach. He turned to the winged creature, which was now frisking in the waves, saying, “if you are done fooling around my dear Pegassi, we have work to do.”
Erian cocked his head and followed the gaze of his friend and saw what had drawn his attention. The Pegassi snorted, “at least he will finally get his questions answered.” They approached the late captain, who stood gazing about himself in wonder, but as yet his back was towards them and he thought himself quite alone in all this strange and wonderful world. Erian’s whicker caused the man to turn suddenly and it took him a moment to fully recognize the boy, for he was quite overawed by the glorious Pegassi at his shoulder.
Bayard grinned, “are you now satisfied captain, that I am no fell servant of evil?”
Jaden shook his head in wonder, “it is all quite overwhelming, but this explains much! What of your tale? And Ithril’s brother?”
Bayard shook his head, “my tale was very much as I told you, save that it was death that sundered us. Tyne must have taken up with some servant of the Dark One shortly after I fell, for he has become a Dreadlord, the same which fell upon you and your men this very day.”
The captain smiled in anticipation, “I have entered upon a very strange profession I think.”
Erian spoke, “quite strange to mortal sensibilities at least, but quite wonderful nonetheless.”
The captain cocked his head, “the wild horse?”
Erian performed a lovely bow, “the same.”
Jaden smiled, “this day just keeps getting stranger.”
“And so it will,” said a new voice, “at least until you quit thinking like a mortal and start thinking like a Messenger. Come! We have errands to be about.” A smile nearly split the captain’s face as he was introduced to the newly arrived Pegassi mare and formed a bond that would last until one or both decided to cross oversea.
“The lady is right,” whinnied Erian as Bayard leapt aback his own mount and they vanished upon their next quest. Jaden shook his head in wonder and did likewise.
Ithril soon found the man to whom the Master had sent him; the old man sat smoking a pipe at the back of an empty com
mon room in an inn that it seemed the world had forgot. The place was so lively that even the innkeeper found time for a nap this time in the afternoon. The man looked curiously at the boy as he introduced himself and took a seat across from the aged storyteller. The boy then proceeded to tell his strange tale, after which the astonished man said, “lad, that is quite the story, and believe me I know many a tale. If it be true, and from the way you tell it I cannot doubt it, you are in grave danger. I can answer your questions but I can offer you neither safety nor comfort, for if you truly are hunted by your brother and he is a true servant of evil, there is no haven or refuge for you short of the Sea.”
The boy gasped, “but no one can survive that journey.”
The man shook his head sadly, “neither will you survive a Dreadlord’s wrath. Better to die escaping than to be captured and eventually surrender to the will of our enemies.”
The fear in Ithril’s eyes hardened into a determination to avoid his brother at all costs. He nodded slowly and said, “then I had best not remain in one place too long, but I do have a few questions ere I go.” They talked long into the afternoon and finally as the meager evening crowd began to trickle in, the boy bid his mentor adieu and vanished out the back of the inn. The man watched him go and wondered what lay ahead for the poor lad.
Bayard and Erian stood silently in the gathering dark outside the forgotten inn and exchanged a smile when their quarry emerged into the night. The boy had no idea they were warding his steps and keeping the servants of evil from falling upon him. He thought himself alone in all the world, hunted by forces he could not even begin to comprehend for reasons he could not fathom, but it was simply a matter of vengeance, for Tyne had vowed to have his brother a fellow servant of evil or else to see him dead, and he would not rest until the matter was finished. But he was not alone, as are all who fully trust in the Master, and he would not fall an easy victim to his brother’s schemes. He likely would not survive the adventure but there are more important things in life (and beyond) than death. In exhaustion he lay down in a quiet dell and was quickly asleep while others watched that he might do so in peace.
It was a rather uneventful journey for Ithril, at least initially, for those minions of evil that did make an appearance in search of the boy or who might report him to their fell masters were quickly and silently dealt with by his unseen guardians. And as he yet traveled through civilized lands, he was able to find enough generous souls in his wanderings that he did not starve nor always have to sleep rough. It was so easy a journey that the boy began to wonder if indeed he truly were hunted as he had thought or if it were all a strange dream. Was there not something else he could do with his life save throw it away in a desperate flight into the Mountains? Where fear and danger could not overcome, perhaps complacency could undermine his natal faith, but ere he could shrug the whole ordeal off as a silly dream, the Mountains loomed before him. His stomach complained, for he had not seen a human habitation in two days nor eaten in that time either. He looked fearfully up into those cloud-shrouded peaks and wondered if it truly must be so. “What troubles you lad?” came a curious and amused voice. Ithril turned to stare in wonder and surprise at the short, aged man sitting beneath a weathered signpost beside a wandering track leading up into the hills.
The boy sighed, “I have had such strange adventures of late and it seems death or submission to evil must be the inevitable outcome. I thought I must retreat into the heights but only death lurks therein, yet worse may yet pursue me if I do not, but my travels have been without danger or incident of late and I begin to doubt the sanity of my original intent.”
The man cocked his head and asked, “and what danger could drive a man willingly into those hills?”
The boy shivered, “my brother has become a fell servant of evil and pursues me that I may do likewise which I am loath to do. It is death behind and death ahead. What am I to do?”
The man smiled sadly, “take to the hills boy, at least there you may evade the clutches of evil. I would not doubt your original intent for the sake of a lull in your adventures; continue on as you know you must and all will be well in the end though the middle might be dark and desperate.”
The boy nodded grimly, “not the words I wanted to hear but those that I needed. I thank you for your wisdom sir.”
The little man smiled, “I can not only feed your resolve lad but also your body, take this bit of food with you ere you faint upon the way. It will be a difficult enough journey without starving upon it.” Ithril took the proffered bag, thanked the little man again, and with a much heartened spirit, set out anew. The little man winked at Bayard and Erian as they ghosted silently after.
Bayard asked Erian in surprise, “he can see us?”
Erian shook his head in amusement, “he is no mortal man but some cousin of Elfkind and a fellow servant of our Master.”
Bayard smiled in remembrance, “it was he that sat in the same spot and gave direction to Tyne and me when we passed this way what seems a lifetime ago.”
Erian continued, “and so he will sit and give direction to all those weary wanderers who seek some greater purpose or meaning than that which the wide world has yet been able to give them until the Mountains themselves crumble into the Sea and all is made new.”
Bayard nodded thoughtfully, cast a parting salute at the little man, and continued their pursuit of Ithril. The boy had climbed high into the hills and was starting his journey into the very heart of the Mountains when Bayard began to recognize the country through which they passed. He said quietly to Erian, though the boy could neither see nor hear them, “this was the way I came and it was very near this spot that I…”
He broke off as he recognized the rocky precipice where he had made his last stand as a mortal man, but thankfully the woods were now blissfully silent and there seemed no imminent threat to the boy. Erian turned his great head and eyed his rider, “we can do nothing to aid the boy if the normal denizens of this place decide to move against him. All we may do is ward him from the servants of evil over whom mortals have no power.”
Bayard said thoughtfully, “that I know, but it will be hard to stand aside and do nothing.”
Erian said in surprise as he swung his head back around to look upon their quarry, “we may not have long to wait! What is he doing?”
Bayard shook his head and grinned in amusement, “he is still a very young man, remember. And most boys cannot resist an adventure, especially one that might yield real treasure.”
“He is going to get himself killed,” sighed the confused Pegassi.
Bayard laughed, “I never said we were all that smart when it comes to this sort of thing, besides it adds to the thrill of the adventure.”
Erian shook his head, “humans!”
They watched the boy vanish over the side of the cliff as he carefully made his way to the bottom of the chasm wherein he had seen the flash of sunlight on some shiny object far below. Erian reared and with one sweep of his great wings they found themselves now in the bottom of the ravine looking up as Ithril cautiously made his way down. A few bones and a fractured human skull lay strewn about and the unfortunate’s dagger lay flashing in the sun; it was this that had attracted Ithril’s attention. Erian shook his head in wonder, “he is risking his life for that?” Bayard said nothing but watched thoughtfully as the boy made his final descent into the bottom of the chasm.
He glanced at the bones with some trepidation and then his eyes fell upon his quarry. His countenance fell to find all his effort exerted for the sake of a rusting belt knife, and he felt something like a grave robber as he picked up the discarded weapon and made a cursory study of the object. He dropped it in surprise and drew forth his own specimen and then retrieved the former for comparison. Erian cocked his head in confusion, “what can be so fascinating about a rusty knife?”
Bayard smiled slightly in knowing, “that blade will look
very familiar as they were made by the same man. The only difference is probably the initial engraved on the hilt.”
Erian turned a great eye on his rider, “and how would you know that?”
Bayard’s smile deepened, “because that was my knife and it was forged by the same village smith that wrought Ithril’s.”
In the meantime, Ithril had also made this discovery and stared about him in horrified wonder. The knife had obviously belonged to Bayard and the bones lying haphazardly about were also undoubtedly his, but how could that be when Ithril was certain the boy had perished many long miles to the south? “How?” asked the boy to the air.
“How indeed?” came the mocking reply. In his surprise, Ithril dropped both knives as he stepped back in alarm, not that either would have availed him against a Dreadlord. Tyne continued to mock his brother, “is this how you would end too? Would you have your bones scattered by scavengers and gnawed by rodents as you lie unburied and unmourned, or would you rather not taste of death at all and find life and power unending?”
“Is your wretched existence truly life Tyne or a living death?” asked Bayard as he stood with sword drawn between the Dreadlord and his prey.
“Be gone fell ghost!” scowled Tyne as he found himself sundered from his quarry, “he is mine!”
Bayard snorted a laugh, “dream on. He may choose his own end. As did each of us, as must all men. Back away and we need not fight.”
Tyne drew his own sword and snarled, “you will do nothing but delay me for a moment and then I will again have the boy within my clutches.”
Bayard rolled his eyes at Tyne’s dramatics and then leapt upon his old friend. Ithril’s legs had given way beneath him in shock as he watched the two tangle for a moment before Tyne took Bayard’s blade in the chest and vanished with a horrid wail and a gust of smoke, leaving only Bayard and the terrified Ithril in the little valley. Bayard sheathed his blade and gave the flabbergasted boy a full minute to regain the use of his wits and his tongue. Finally Ithril stammered, “you are…were…must be…dead…”
“Yes,” said Bayard simply, “but that does not mean my usefulness to the Master has ceased. Nor will yours.” There was no reply, for the boy had fainted dead away.
Erian eyed his friend in amusement, “you certainly have a way with mortals.”
Bayard shook his head but said nothing as he hefted the prone form aback Erian and mounted himself. In a moment they had returned to the top of the cliff where the whole adventure had begun and Ithril began to stir as they deposited him on the sward. He sat up and rubbed his temples saying, “this has all been one ridiculous dream has it not?”
Bayard grinned, leapt aback Erian, and said before the pair vanished, “it will only get stranger.”
Ithril gaped about him but he was alone and could only scratch his head in amazement. He crawled to the edge of the precipice and stared down into its depths and caught the flash of sunlight on two knives now instead of just one. He sat back and sighed, the amount of rust on that blade and the state of the bones told him that it had been some time since their former owner had fallen into the chasm and breathed his last. They had been there months if not a year before his own strange adventures began which must mean that he had not seen the true end of Bayard, the boy had been slain well before that and he certainly was no ghost or rotting corpse upon this meeting. Hope stirred in Ithril’s heart as he began to understand that though this adventure was sure to claim his life, it would not be the end of his adventures. He shuddered to think what might have come of him had he fallen into his brother’s clutches. A true and honest death was much to be preferred over his brother’s current state, no matter what power and advantages came with it. He stood and almost eagerly continued his journey higher into the Mountains.
“How far will he get?” asked Bayard of Ryan.
The Messenger shook his head, “only the Master knows. I will keep an eye on him. You four have other business to be about.”
Bayard shared a curious grin with Jaden before they both mounted and headed into the dense forest that carpeted the slopes of the surrounding mountains. The two Messengers had appeared on the scene the moment Bayard vanished from Ithril’s perception though not from that point in space and time. Sebiki, Jaden’s mare said, “this shall be a rather strange mission.”
Erian shook his head, “all must hear the Truth, even the Elves.”
The mare blew out her nostrils, “but they know the Truth! They lived it! And they abandoned it to seek their own way.”
Erian pinned his ears back, “so did I and yet I repented. They too shall have that chance.”
Sebiki sighed, “I had forgotten that was possible.”
Bayard grinned, “of all of us, you are the only one who has never had to live with the realities of rebellion and death.”
She nodded, “such are merely theories and legends to my people, save Erian who has lived them. I will have much to learn upon the subject. I only hope it has a happy ending.”
Erian shook his head, “for a few it might but they have lived with pride and bitterness so long I fear nothing we can say will change their stubborn hearts.”
Jaden asked, “I did not think the elves were that fond of mortal men.”
Bayard shook his head, “they are not. One of their arrows lies with my bones at the base of the cliff we just vacated.”
Erian snorted a laugh, “then it is a very good thing that neither of you are mortal men, but I do not think they will be any happier to see two of their old countrymen ere they vacated their first home.”
Sebiki asked, “then how are we to gain their attention that we might tell what we must if they abhor the very thought of us?”
Bayard said stiffly, “we will have no trouble gaining their attention.”
His tone warned the others that they were no longer alone in the tangled woodland; they could see a dozen or more lithe, humanoid creatures moving and whispering among the undergrowth. As one, the elves stepped out of their concealment and challenged these intruders into their solitude. The captain of the group snarled, “what do you want? Never have strangers penetrated so deeply into our territory, thus defiling our land by their mere presence. Speak fools, ere the ability is permanently taken from you!” Unlike Ithril, whose mortal eyes could not see certain things beyond mortal gaze, these elves could see beyond Time and thus the Messengers could not conceal their presence from them, but their true identity yet remained hidden as all they saw were two men on drab horses.
Bayard said, “we have been sent to speak to your King and all your folk upon a most important matter.”
The Captain snorted, “what of importance can a mere child of men have to impart to the least of our folk? You fool! You have ridden to your death and by it shall our land be cleansed of your desecration.”
Jaden shook his head, “we are merely messengers but our message has a voice and import far beyond the comprehension of any wretched mortal creature. Hear our tale and then we shall trouble you no more.”
The captain scoffed, “and what fool thinks himself great enough that he dares send word to the elves?”
Erian said, “we come at the behest of the Master Himself. You might as well hear what we have to say else you will never be rid of us.”
The captain and his men were startled at the voice of the seeming horse; his confusion soon turned to anger as he said, “you speak beast, what then are you? Since you are no mere horse as your appearance declares.” Erian reared, pawed the air, and spread his wings as the glory of their Master engulfed them and radiated off of them. For a moment the elves were stunned into silence but the captain soon spat, “a Pegassi! Your wretched alliance with Men was one of the reasons we left in the first place!”
Bayard grinned, “then you know full well who and what we are and the quickest way to be rid of us is to allow us to speak our part then we shall leave y
ou in peace.”
“Very well,” snarled the captain, “but the King has yet to speak upon this matter.”
Reluctantly the elves led them to their city hidden deep within the fastness of the forest where the King and all his folk were not amused in the least to see such pathetic creatures, but knowing resistance was vain, they pretended to listen that they might hurry the intruders on their way. The Messengers held forth and found themselves very nearly pushed out of the city the moment they finished speaking. Erian shook his head in disgust, “that seemed a complete waste of time!”
A familiar voice squawked overhead, “and what is Time to you, My dear Pegassi? And how do you know your words have truly been in vain?” The four bowed as the Magpie vanished into the forest and then shared a joyful gaze before vanishing on their next errand.
Ithril picked his way carefully through the rocky maze of boulders and stunted trees and nameless weeds. It was a grim part of the mountains he had entered and it appeared that his surroundings would only grow worse as he ascended. He sighed, knowing the legend that even the air itself turned against mortal men if they climbed too high, he almost wished it all to be over. He stumbled in weariness, thirst, and hunger; he was lonely beyond anything he had ever known before. How had he ever thought this would be a good idea? Finally he sat down upon the nearest rock and put his head in his hands; what was the point? Suddenly he felt curious eyes upon him and turned to look at what dread thing had finally found him; he flinched to see a face that seemed of an age with himself but the flaxen hair and pointed ears told him that this was no wandering boy but one of the dreaded elves that had no love of mortal men. In his weakened state, he did the only sensible thing he could and fainted once more.
Aboril looked down in dismay at the prone young man, he had not meant to frighten the poor creature. The words of the strange Messengers had stirred his heart and he meant to return to the lands forsaken by his parents, but no one had wanted to come with him. When his elders discovered his thoughts he was very nearly banished. So alone he ascended the slope, seeking that which lurked upon the far side, but growing very lonely he was delighted to find another sapient creature among the barren and rocky wasteland in which he now found himself.
He managed to rouse the boy with a little water from his bottle and as Ithril awoke, he was quite surprised to find gentle eyes looking into his own. He was quite certain he should be dead or imprisoned at this point; finally curiosity forced him to speak and the two quickly exchanged stories and unanimously agreed to seek the other side of the mountains together. Aboril’s food did much to hearten and strengthen the weakened Ithril and their mutual companionship greatly encouraged them both. For several days they climbed higher until Ithril found breathing difficult and most growing things had been left far behind.
Ithril sat down on a rock, panting and said, “I cannot go much further else I shall lose my breath entirely.”
Aboril’s answer was lost in vile laughter as Tyne once again ruined his brother’s day by his mere presence. He had little interest in the boy at this point, save some vague notions of revenge, but his master had sent him in pursuit of the renegade elf, for it would be quite a triumph to subvert one such of that recalcitrant people to the Dark One’s yoke. Tyne launched a spear at his winded brother and pinned him to the boulder against which he had been leaning; his punctured lung made it all the more difficult to breath and he began to gape like a landed fish. Aboril stood in horror, frozen between running to aid his wounded friend or fleeing for his life from this apparition that he knew to his core was after him. The choice was taken from him as there came a brilliant light, the rush of wings, and strong arms grasped him.
Said Jaden as he swooped to the rescue aback Sebiki, “I will bear you over the mountains lad, if that is still your goal.” Aboril nodded dumbly, desperately wanting to help his friend. Jaden said quietly, “there is nothing you can do for your friend lad. You could only end in the grasp of the Evil One.” Aboril sighed heavily but allowed himself to be borne to safety with a heavy heart, which was soon forgotten as his eyes fell upon the home he had never known.
Bayard stood over the gasping Ithril with sword drawn as Jaden stooped upon the elf and bore him safely away. Tyne howled in absolute fury and fell upon his perennial foe with a vengeance and soon overwhelmed Bayard, banishing him back to the Sea. The last thing the gaping Ithril saw was Tyne leaning over him with fury burning deep in his eyes, finally he lost his fight for air and his mortal struggles were at an end. Tyne sighed deeply, dreading what his terrible master would do when his failure was discovered. He turned his dread beast and sought long until he found one of Aboril’s kin abroad in the open. The wretched creature was easily taken and Tyne bore him South to see if he might not somehow salvage his life with this alternative hostage.
Ithril gazed about him in wonder, feeling as if his adventures had been far too easy if this was what lay at journey’s end. His heart yearned to go oversea, but he also felt he yet had something to accomplish on the other side of the mountains. He hoped Aboril had not been too lonely after the loss of his companion. What did an elf do if ever they crossed the mountains? “The same thing that men may choose when they do likewise, save we need not taste of death to do it,” said a familiar voice now tinged with unspeakable joy. Ithril turned about in wonder and slight amusement, knowing now that he must have spoken aloud. Even more wonderful to Ithril was the sight of the captain and Bayard as they welcomed the newest recruits into the Messengers. They exchanged greetings and introductions all around before the two were completely overwhelmed in joy and awe as a pair of Pegassi alighted on the beach. Now properly horsed, Jaden paired up with the elf and Bayard took charge of Ithril and all four vanished, leaving the eternal beach to itself.
“This looks like…!” Ithril gasped in amazement, prematurely ending his speech.
“Yes,” said Bayard quietly, “we have come home, though it can no longer be that to us.”
Ithril grinned, “you will have to lead as I have no idea what I am doing.”
Bayard returned the smile, “neither do I. It seems one is always learning as you go in this business.”
Erian cocked his head, “does that not always keep it interesting?”
The Messengers laughed, “that it certainly does.”
Ithril sobered, “will they know us?”
Bayard nodded grimly, “it will not be easy telling your parents what has come of Tyne.”
Ithril nodded gravely but then smiled, “nor easy telling them we have not come home to plow fields, though I think a Pegassi might make short work of it.”
Erian snorted, “not quite the work to which our Master has destined us I think.”
“No,” said Bayard with a grin, “but an interesting concept nonetheless. That might very well have been your fate my dear Pegassi had you not returned willingly to our Master.”
Erian shivered in horror at the thought, but could not answer, for a woman had noticed the two strangers on the edge of the village and was quickly making her way towards them. By her speed, it must be Helma, the town gossip, for only their mothers would have reason to approach them with such haste and they were too far away to be recognized. She drew in a sharp breath as she recognized the missing boys, and regaining some composure she crossed her arms and scolded, “now where have you two been all this time? And where is that other boy that ran off with you? Most unwise that, but I guess you are home now. What your parents will think! We all thought you dead or worse…”
She carried on for a full five minutes half scolding, half eager to discuss this bit of news with all and sundry. She seemed oblivious to the Pegassi, who shook their heads in amusement and then vanished with one sweep of their great wings, leaving the boys to the mercy of Helma. She continued to rattle on, but Bayard began moving towards the center of the village, forcing her to walk as she blathered; Ithril followed in silent am
usement, exchanging a knowing grin with his friend. To think they had held this woman and her tongue in greatest dread, never knowing what new tale of mischief might reach their respective mother’s ears. Now her prattle seemed quaint, almost amusing, and brought something of nostalgia with it, a sense of grateful remembrance of things that could no longer be, like the last scent of a fading rose at the very end of summer. As they made their way into the village, a small crowd began to gather as the residents left their current task to gape at the wonder of strangers in the village, perhaps hoping to be spared Helma’s view of things in witnessing the event themselves. There were several gasps as the boys were recognized and people went running to alert the entire town, most especially the kin of the returned wanderers.
Within minutes, the village green was filled with amazed and eager villagers hoping for some explanation as to their disappearance and return, foremost among them were the parents of the missing boys. There were many eager greetings but Ithril’s mother seemed troubled as she asked her late son, “where is your brother?”
Before the boy could answer, a harsh voice grated, “that is none of your concern woman. Now step aside and leave these wretches to me.” The woman turned white and fainted dead away upon sighting the speaker. The villagers drew back in horror as a Dreadlord, not Tyne, stood forth and grabbed each of the boys by their throats, saying, “you two will come with me.” He glared around at the remainder of the villagers and snarled, “there are none others here that interest me. Bring the fools and let us be on our way.”
A trembling man in the uniform of the Blackguard motioned for his men to secure the prisoners, which the Dreadlord had flung to the ground like so much refuse. Ithril’s eyes were wide with surprise but Bayard wore an amused half smile. They had gone for their swords the moment they sensed the Dreadlord but the weapons were not there, thus there must be some other point to this exercise than simply vanquishing one of their perennial foes. They allowed themselves to be captured and drug along by the unwitting Blackguard, leaving the terrified villagers to stare after them in horror. The weeping of their mothers smote their ears as they lost their sons anew.
It was not far to the camp of the Blackguard, and as it was late in the day, there they remained for the night. The latest additions to the party were flung into the midst of four other boys who jumped aside ere they were landed upon. The new captives set themselves upright and stared after their retreating captors in astonishment. “Welcome to the bitterest days of your lives,” said one of the boys with a regal bearing, “we are all of us unwilling slaves to the Dark Prince.”
The Dreadlord’s harsh voice snarled, “you had best become willing slaves or you will cease to exist at all. I have met my quota, captain now see that they do not get lost or injured on the road to Golcamoth or I shall hold you responsible.”
The captain stuttered in terror, “yes, my lord.” Satisfied, the monster mounted his hideous beast and vanished from the camp, which sighed in relief at his going. They might be allies but there was no joy on either side in cooperating in such a manner, but so did their dark master bid it and they were all too terrified to gainsay his orders.
The captain turned to the six captive boys and snarled, “go to sleep. The sooner we reach our destination, the sooner I will be rid of you.” He stormed off, leaving the boys in the charge of the two most junior soldiers in the company.
After the camp quieted into the routine of evening, Bayard felt that the time had come to speak, “what have we become entangled in?”
The only boy that had thus far spoken snapped, “quiet, do you want to get us all in trouble?”
“They should at least know what they are facing Rork,” said a timid boy from the furthest corner of their small huddle, “you are no Prince here.”
Rork scowled, “no, we are all of us slaves, but that gives you no advantage over the rest of us, just because you have been a slave your entire life.”
Ithril gaped, “is this true?”
Peppin, the former slave said, “we come from all walks of life from Royal Bloodlines to the most meager of men. None knows how or why they pick whom they will, only that the Dreadlords come and choose one or two or none and send them to Golcamoth, from whence they never return, at least not as mortal men, but once you have been so chosen you have no other choice.”
Bayard crossed his arms, “there is always a choice.”
A snort from outside their little circle caused them all to cower for a moment as one of the young guards joined their conversation, more curious than upset. Said he, “you have no idea what awaits you. They choose whom they will. If you are selected from amongst the Guard it is considered quite an honor though I myself have no interest in that sort of thing.” He shuddered, “and hope never to know quite what that honor entails. But the slave is right. None comes out unchanged. There is but one choice.”
Bayard shook his head, “there is always a choice!”
The guard scoffed, “and what would that be my bold little farmer? Have you ever even left your village? I saw your mother weeping as we drug you away and when you return even she will not recognize you.” He shivered again, “but then you will be the one giving me orders.”
Ithril asked, “what is he talking about?”
Bayard said grimly, “Golcamoth is where Dreadlords and all such are birthed.” They all shuddered at the thought. Continued he, “but we still have a choice.”
“And what choice is that? Death?” scoffed the royal hostage.
Bayard looked at his challenger with stern, un-boyish eyes, “that must certainly be better than the living death the Dark One intends. Would you be a miserable slave, doomed for all eternity to utter darkness? These creatures may be powerful but they are wretched to the very core of their being, the Master alone offers true freedom though we buy it with our lives.”
A sharp slap across the face silenced the vociferous boy as the captain snarled, “enough boy! I will have no more heresy from you. I would kill you now save that you must arrive at Golcamoth intact, at least there they can dispose of you properly. You will submit to your rightful master or you will die in agony. Now silence!” He turned dreadful eyes upon the recalcitrant guard, “for your part in this, you too will make the journey as a captive and you shall have your part in those things you wish to avoid.”
The guard gasped in terror but was soon stripped of his weapons and armor, bound, and found himself joining his former prisoners. He said quietly to Bayard, “I hope you are right.” There was no sleep for any of them that night.
The days that followed were miserable and tedious to the captives, save perhaps for the Messengers whose physical forms did not suffer from the abuses heaped upon them by their captors and who had an unending hope in their Master. They were roused before dawn, fed an unappetizing gruel, and forced to march all day at the pace set by their mounted captors only to fall into a dejected sleep after an equally bland supper. Day after day and night after night there was no change in their routine, only in the weather. They marched mercilessly through heat, dust, cold, rain, and wind into the very South of the world. Civilization gave way to wildlands and eventually even weeds would not grow in the lands about them. The sun sweltered overhead by day and the wan moon froze them by night. Dust and rocks were the only things that grew in this grey and featureless land. No hill or river broke the dismal plain yet on they marched into the very heart of oblivion. The only bit of joy or interest or hope came in the form of whispered stories and encouragement from the two unflappable Messengers who often found themselves severely punished by their captors for their temerity. But through their efforts, the hearts of their companions did not break as their masters thought they must.
“Six are hand picked by one of the Dreadlords, the other is a rebellious guard of my own command. I leave them in your keeping and take no more responsibility for them,” said the captain as he left his cap
tives in the charge of a stunted, grey-skinned creature with horrible teeth and cruel eyes.
The monster said, “so be it. Any problems with this lot?”
The captain laughed darkly, “those two on the end are not quite as hopeless as might be desired but I am sure you will quickly rectify the situation.”
The creature smiled hideously, “that will be my pleasure. You may resume your patrol and we shall deal with these wretches.” The captain and his men retreated hastily from the grim fortress that was Golcamoth even though evening was well advanced. This was no place where mortal men chose to linger, even those in the sway of his dark majesty. Bayard had glimpsed many of the Dark One’s servants in this place, many to which he could give no name, but none were mortal. It seemed the quaking prisoners were the only representatives of humanity in this grim place. The Creature (for that was its name) paced before his new victims, “this place will become either your grave or your path to power. Heretics will not be tolerated. Your journey here will seem an enjoyable thing as compared to what is to come until we destroy you or you choose wisely. If you wish to spare yourselves the pain to come, you may submit immediately to our dark master or you may suffer the usual penalties until you come to such a decision.” The prisoners cowered in terror.
The Creature went on, “one of you is a traitor and two are heretics. We shall make examples of you immediately unless you are willing to submit this very moment?”
The two Messengers shook their heads grimly but did not drop their gaze; the young soldier wailed in terror and remorse, “I have been a fool, an utter fool!”
The Creature asked, “have you come to your senses then?”
The former guard shook his head, “at last I have seen the Truth. Why could I not see it before? I have been a fool, but no longer. I have made my decision. Proceed as you must.”
The Creature grinned vilely, “you are then willing to submit to the Ritual and abandon these foolish mortal ambitions?”
The soldier snorted, “I have no doubt my mortal strivings will soon be over but I will not submit to you or yours. I speak of the True King when I say I have been an ignorant fool. To Him alone will I yield…”
A broad grin lit Bayard’s face as the soldier spoke but it turned to a look of disgust and horror as the boy did not even finish speaking before The Creature was upon him. “Heretics will not be tolerated,” said the Creature casually, as it licked the blood from its claws after making short work of the boy, whose mangled remains were being fought over by a Fellhound and a Dreadlord’s loathsome mount. The survivors shuddered in disgust, but the Creature gave them little time to process this as he turned his vicious gaze again upon the two heretics. Continued he, “now what of you? Will you choose the same end?”
“What would you have of us?” said Bayard boldly.
“Have of you? Have of you?” snarled the Creature, “why I offer you the greatest boon a mortal man can receive! You could become truly powerful! I do not know why people are not lining up outside the fortress demanding this very thing!”
Bayard cocked his head, “then why have you not endured such an ordeal?”
The Creature growled, “I have endured it and was the most powerful creature known to man yet have been reduced to this wretched state for things beyond my control. It is all the fault of my brother and one I once called friend. If ever I see them again they shall be sorry!”
Bayard and Ithril exchanged a horrified look in realizing this thing was Tyne, who apparently was blinded to their true identities, at least for the moment. Ithril gasped, “why would we want to align ourselves with such a fickle master if your fate could be our own?”
Realizing his terrible blunder, the Creature snarled, “because this is paradise compared to what awaits you should you refuse. Why should our master reward failure? Serve well and you have nothing to fear. Fail and…” He ended in mid-sentence with menace heavy in his voice. “Enough,” growled the Creature, “you will all decide now or face a truly terrifying death of my choosing. We will not resort to the myriad tortures usually used to convince the reluctant for I sense this entire batch is corrupted and not worth salvaging. Choose!”
The six remaining boys all exchanged horrified looks, wondering what their end would be but it seemed truly to be upon them. The words of the Messengers had done much to encourage them in the hopeless days of their journey and the words of this Creature did little to sway their newfound faith. Only Rork stood forth and said, “I am not ready to die. I will submit to whatever I must, but spare my life.”
The Creature smiled in feigned joy, “a wise decision and you will not only save your life but to it we shall add abundantly. What of your friends?”
Rork shook his head, “they are all heretics my lord, the two on the end the worst of all.”
The Creature’s smile broadened, “then I shall allow you to end their heresy, for the Ritual requires the shedding of such blood as theirs. These others shall die as I choose.”
The terrified captives drew closer together as their fate was decided, but a great and terrible light suddenly drove all such thoughts out of the minds of all there present. Ithril and Bayard were the only ones not blinded to the vision as Jaden, Aboril, and the young guard swooped in on their Pegassi and bore the three captives bodily away. The former soldier winked at his comrades yet in chains the moment before his Pegassi vanished with all the others. Ithril and Bayard exchanged a joyous look, but schooled their faces to dismay as the light subsided and all could look about unhindered, only to gape in horror for three of the captives were gone.
“What is this?” snarled the Creature, “where is my revenge?” He turned on the three remaining captives and demanded, “what has happened? Were those three mortal boys or of that forsaken sect devoted to the Master?” Rork looked flummoxed and the Messengers kept silent. The Creature roared, “to the altars lest more failure is heaped unwillingly at my door!”
Several things too hideous to describe took up the remaining captives and bore them quickly to the back of the fortress whose back wall held an opening with no gate which looked out upon Nothing. The Messengers shuddered to sense that complete and utter emptiness, empty save for despair, terror, and grief. The vile minions lay the two Messengers upon one altar and Rork was chained to another. Bayard cried out, “do not do this! It is not yet too late!”
A slap from the Creature sent him reeling into darkness as Ithril took up the cry, “do not forever doom yourself! That Nothingness without is all that awaits you…” He too lay stunned as the Creature reprimanded Ithril likewise.
The Wraith that had come forth to oversee the proceedings glanced down at the unmoving victims on the altar; he examined the wretched creatures and drew back with a hiss, “this is madness. We cannot proceed. There is something dreadfully wrong with your victims.”
Snarled the Creature, “whatever it is I do not care! If all of these fools escape our master’s clutches I am doomed. Begin!”
The Wraith adamantly shook its head, “I will have no part in this. You doom yourself.”
The Creature sneered, “so be it. So then shall all the glory be mine.”
The Wraith shuddered and withdrew to the farthest reaches of the compound. The awful wailing and the terrible silence that followed made the horrid creature grin; he had warned the fool and he had destroyed himself. His previous failure should have earned him banishment into the abyss but their master found it much more amusing to place him in this new wretched position. Even that, now it seemed was doomed to failure. The thing smiled wickedly, where one or two failed, there was always room for advancement for those that succeeded. Those two boys were nothing but Messengers in disguise and forcing them into the Ritual could have nothing but disastrous results. The candidate and all those about him no doubt would end in the Rift and hopefully the victims would destroy themselves in process, but the wretched crea
tures seemed immune to such things and he knew they would be back. He had tried to warn them. Now how to use this disaster to his advantage?
Bayard and Ithril woke on the Beach with a shudder, half submerged in the miraculous Sea, which washed away their recent, quite unnerving experience. Tyne had tried to involve them in his vile Ritual and had unleashed powers and chaos he had no idea how to control. He and his victim were no doubt lost to the abyss, permanently for such a ploy. It had been far from a pleasant experience for all involved. Bayard stood, saying, “I will be quite happy never to endure that again.” They both shivered again in remembrance.
Ithril nodded, “Tyne’s spear was pleasant by comparison. How long can such outrages go on?”
“Not much longer,” said Jaden, as his Pegassi suddenly appeared on the Beach, “while you two have been exploring the South of the world, much has happened. There has been a Revival.”
Bayard frowned, “we were not gone that long.”
Jaden grinned, “only fifty years or so. What is Time to us?” The pair exchanged a surprised look but quickly turned back to Jaden as he continued, “your three freed captives turned out to be quite a boon to our Master’s cause. Once free of their terror, they traveled the world telling their tale and whole countries have repented of their ignorance and evil. There is not a soul in all creation that has not heard of the Master! The Whiteguard is the strongest it has ever been, which is a very good thing since Evil is multiplying as well. The End will soon come.”
“Actually it is here,” said Erian, as he and Ithril’s mount appeared and greeted their errant masters. Once the boys were in their saddles the Pegassi reared and said, “this is no place for a man afoot.”
Bayard frowned in incomprehension for a moment but suddenly the Mountains started to shake and the Sea to roar. Those who dwelt on the Seaward side of the Mountains soon joined the three Messengers on the Beach while the Sea split asunder and allowed all those who dwelt in the Brightlands to come forth. The Sea receded and finally vanished, the Mountains crumbled to minor hills and the Greylands lay open before them. Such a reunion has never been seen before or since, but all the Master’s servants found themselves called to that Beach wherever they had been a moment previous and the minions of Evil found themselves gathered together for a final assault on the Master’s stronghold, thinking the Mountains had fallen to some plot of the Evil One.
There was a great light about all the Master’s servants, but then the Master Himself came forth and His radiance was greater than the combined glory of His servants. The onrushing hoards of darkness simply vanished the moment that light fell upon them. Those poor souls bound neither to the Master or His nemesis fled South in utter terror, never to be seen again. Then the Shadow himself came forth to do what his weaker vassals could not but the utter dark cannot stand before The Light. A great earthquake shook the whole world and laid it waste. The Abyss itself vanished before that Light to a place none but the Master knows. When the Light abated, what wonders awaited the Master’s own cannot be known by mortal mind.
The Greylands: Volume I Page 3
