The Punishment Of The Gods (Omnibus 1-5)

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The Punishment Of The Gods (Omnibus 1-5) Page 61

by Jake Yaniak


  Cheft Ponteris nodded soberly, taking this to mean that Lord Havoc had indeed made an end of the Galva army in the mountains.

  'That you may know that these words are not my own, I have but one thing further to declare before your ears and the ears of your household. In less than two months time, he that vexes your mind and stays your hand shall be taken away, seeming to leave it within your hands to pursue at last all your desires, but your desires will yet elude you. Treachery gives birth to treachery, son of Oastir.'

  Ponteris opened his mouth to speak, but could say not a word. Rahdmus turned his back and walked away, unchallenged by all the hirelings, mercenaries and guards of the Cheftan.

  Thus Rahdmus and I left the house of Ponteris, leaving the men thereof in great confusion and doubt. Some left that very hour, some begged to follow us, but most remained with their lord, frightened, but unwilling to be seen as cowards. All these things young Daryas witnessed, and his mouth was agape as we approached him at the door of Cheft Ponteris' estate.

  'Come, 'merchant', Rahdmus said to him as we left. 'There is much that must be accomplished ere your labors are ended.'

  Without any sign of doubt, much to Revere's confusion, Daryas followed us along the road and away from the house. Revere followed behind, suspicious, but glad to be leaving that perilous place behind.

  Cheftan Biron Galvahirne

  It had now been more than two years since Cheft Biron had been imprisoned, at first in the cellars of his own estate, and later, in the damp basement of Cheft Ponteris' home in Oastirne. After the treacherous Cheftan had grown weary of Biron's things he returned to his own land with his prisoner in tow. He greeted his great statue with more affection than he greeted his wife, to whom he said only, 'It is good to be home. Have the servants restocked the cellars with wine and ale?'

  Needless to say, Biron breathed the free air deeply, knowing it would be but a short while before he was again cast into darkness. This little bit of air was sufficient, however, to restore his spirits. He thought to himself, 'My sons, they say, are perished in the mountains, but such I cannot wholly believe. For what is the word of a liar. In my heart, and in the Cheftan's eyes do I doubt the reports.'

  Indeed, Cheft Ponteris could not bear so much as to look at Biron. When he spoke to his captive, which he did rarely, he trembled and spoke with a broken voice. He would leave Biron cursing his weakness and angry with the prisoner's good spirits.

  Now, the house of Cheftan Ponteris was at one time infested with mice, which Ponteris blamed upon 'the follies of hospitality'. These they had driven, after many efforts, into the cellars, where they chewed their way through anything they wished. They were known to have bitten the servants on several occasions, even attacking some in great force. One servant nearly died of fever after being bitten seventy times. Of this they laughed, telling Cheft Biron to 'be sure to petition thy god Pelas to keep thee safe from their ravenous mouths.'

  But when he sat for the first time in his dark dungeon, with little more than a piece of bread for a meal, he found them to be less ferocious than had been told. He broke apart his bread and gave every morsel into their mouths, until, rather than nipping at his feet or attacking him, they would come and squeak at his feet, begging for crumbs from his dish. At times the mice would bring to him dead bugs, as if they expected to return the favor. On many occasions they brought gold coins, which they had pilfered from the pockets and purses of those above. Thus, even in his rotted prison, Cheft Biron was never a pauper! On one occasion they brought to him a piece of white cloth, torn and frayed. This he smelt, and his heart was comforted. 'Marima,' he said, recognizing the smell of his beloved wife. 'You are safe, then,' he said with a great peace. 'Would that you might bring her to me in lieu of all these pennies,' he said sadly. 'What I wouldn't give to see her face!'

  At first he prayed almost constantly according to the rites and customs of Pelas, as he had been taught in his youth. But the words of his son, Dynamis, who had traveled widely upon the earth, were always with him. 'Pelas,' he would say, 'is god of Noras indeed. But he cannot be god of the whole world, for he is indeed a part of it only. He is not that which is revealed in the world and its shifting elements. He is not that great invisible power, that has the mastery of all causes, whether of the first cause or the last effect.'

  The desire to see the light of day was ever upon his mind. He spoke this in the darkness, and the mice amongst whom he lived heard him well. They set to work in secret, gnawing and biting even the stone of his cell, until, after many months of effort and many long days and nights filled with the wretched sound of their scraping teeth, they carved out a tiny hole in the rock and dirt, leading straight from Biron's bed to the open sky above. It was too small and too high above Biron for him to conceive of making an escape thereby, but it was not meant to unleash the imprisoned Cheftan, but rather to free the light of heaven from its own imprisonment. A single beam of sunlight fell upon the bed of Biron, and he gazed at it and moved his hand about in it as one dying of thirst splashes about when they have at last come upon a clean mountain spring.

  For a long time his spirits were lifted by this, and his heart once more was turned toward Pelas. He knew it not, but there was, always with him, that invisible servant of Pelas, Ollina, whose voice was like the soothing ocean breeze. Ever she spoke the name of the god of Noras, ever did she beckon him to faithfulness. But fate would have it otherwise. One night, all her long labors were turned upside down and the name of Pelas was forsaken by Biron forever. It so happened, if it be proper to say such a thing, that the mighty star Theodysus came to light upon that tiny hole. The light struck Biron upon the brow, crowning his face with silver light. To his mind, in that moment, was revealed many ancient truths, long forgotten by men and elves. It also came into his mind that his sons yet lived, though he knew not whereon his certainty was founded. This brought to him comfort without comparison and peace beyond reckoning. He began to sing, where he had only lamented, to dance where he had only walked. More of his meals he gave to the mice in thanks, and they brought ever more gold and tokens of his beloved to him. Indeed, it came to pass even that he was able to pass to his wife, a note, scrawled with charcoal upon tattered linen, the following verse:

  'The sons of Galvahir yet live,

  Not by Pelas' might preserved,

  Theodysus and his servants give,

  Grace that was by none deserved.'

  Though at first she was loathe to touch the dreadful looking mice, the Lady Marima sent several notes in return. The correspondence of these separated lovers is perhaps among the more beautiful things that hands have penned and eyes have read, or hearts have comprehended. Speaking more practically, however, it was learned thereby, that they were both kept prisoner in the house of Cheftan Ponteris Oastirne and that he preserved Biron only in fear of Olver and what revenge might fall upon him while the blood of Galvahir yet flowed through the veins of the mighty. Nor would he lay a finger upon Marima, in deference of Cheft Horan, who had given Biron this promise, whatever it was worth, when Peiraso was overthrown. Much to Biron's relief it was also learned that the Lady Marima was kept in better conditions than he himself was, though he told her nothing of his own filthy cell.

  Ollina, however, left Biron with her face downcast, bringing the news of his apostasy to Lord Pelas. At this the lord of spirits was deeply offended, and he turned his heart away from the master of Peiraso. 'It is truly in the southern world that our hope remains,' he told her enigmatically.

  'What is in the South?' she asked herself silently. 'He cannot mean Luma, for it is a ruin.'

  Chapter VIII:

  Light and Shadow

  Council

  It was not long after we departed from the halls of that foolish Cheftan of Noras that we found it necessary to explain ourselves more fully to the exiles of Galva. After retrieving their horses, the four of us took the northern road, hoping thereby to come to Galva-la by the next morning. When we came near Lake Gavl we aband
oned the road, lest the servants of Ponteris take interest in us. Thus we went into a wild and untamed country, where no man dwelt. Here the wolves howled and the bats fluttered, making the darkness teem with frightful sounds and the eerie flicker of night eyes. But in these parts there was little four grown men had to fear from the wild, and even less they had to fear if they built for themselves a roaring fire. When we had chosen a secluded spot, gathered some wood, and started up a blaze, the frightfulness of the night vanished entirely.

  'We have met before,' Rahdmus said to the son of Biron, 'atop the mountain of Coronan. There we crossed swords, when still a sword I could bear.'

  When it was revealed to Daryas just who this strange man was, he drew his sword and with a fire in his eyes said, 'How it is that you have escaped death I do not know, but you will not escape the son of Biron this time.'

  Rahdmus bowed his head low and said, 'Truly, the son of Biron has the right to slay me. And even if I could bear a blade once more, I could not hope to overcome the mighty blood of Galvahir, whose strength runs yet undiluted in the veins of Biron's heirs. But you will find that revenge is unnecessary, for as you can see, I have already paid in blood.' With those words Rahdmus revealed to the exiles his deep wounds, which Paley had healed. 'I have been warned, that should I lift a blade to swat a flea, my wounds shall be restored to me, and death will follow ere my stroke should fall.'

  At this Daryas seemed to calm down. Revere just stood as one amazed, not knowing what to make of these strange events. 'You spoke of my labors,' Daryas said, sheathing his sword. 'What do you know of my purpose? And how would the mighty enemy of Noras, the slayer of old Cheft Rahm the noble, help me?'

  'Into your hands will be given great power,' he replied, 'First, power to save your people from the devils that beset them. Second, power to save yourself from darkness. But first an end must be made to old legends.'

  'Power to save my people?' he said in disbelief, 'How can that be when so many foes encompass the walls of Dadron? Men and women from Olgrost, led by Ollitov himself it is told, have taken away the liberty of Daevaron. Moreover, it is said that among their numbers marches a devil of Vestron, a beast of great might. Glumbein, which is to say, 'Iron-Slayer', they call him, and many other dreadful things besides. Men from Amlaman will soon march into the east to join them in their siege. And to this is added the treachery of Ponteris whereby the strength of the Noras will be kept at bay. The Remnant of Galva, Dadron's last hope, is too small for us to put our confidence in. It could not hope to save Dadron even if it had at its command a dozen Dynamises and four hundred Daryases.'

  'I said not that I could render your victory more probable,' the old knight said, 'For probability has meaning only to the mind. Whether or not you have hope within, hope remains.'

  'Tell me, then,' Daryas said after some thought, 'tell me what I ought to do, if such words still have any meaning.'

  'There is a sword, hidden within this very forest, which was made long ago to cleave the spirit of the Devil-King Agon. To take this blade in hand, however, is to call upon yourself a curse, for which no remedy can be given by mortal hands. This blade ought not be touched by he who is not worthy to wield it, yet wield it you must, whether you are worthy or not.'

  'Worthy? Unworthy? The difference between the two I can scarcely recognize,' Daryas said despondently. 'Indeed, in these days men even as cunning as Sion have abandoned the old ways, taking the doctrines of Cheft Ponteris to heart. Who am I, but the lesser son of Biron? Who am I to oppose those who have been endowed with greater minds?'

  'Do not give heed to his doctrines,' Revere said, shaking his head. 'For there is good in you enough, son of Biron.'

  'I appreciate your words,' Daryas said, but then he lowered his eyes, 'and your kindness almost convinces me that they are true. But as with all things, you see from where you stand, only an appearance. I see more, though more still lies hidden from even me. Can any man know even his own heart? You do not know the darkness of my dreams, when evil lurks in the open and courage skulks about in the shadows. The doctrines of Ponteris, however ugly they are, may very well be true. In fact, I half hope they are, for they would be a great comfort to me. To know that I am not wicked for my weakness, and to know that what I speak in secret, and the darkness I hide within my heart might lie there hidden even in death; what greater hope is there to be found in this world than the hope of escaping the penalties of your sins in death? Pelas offers us nothing but law and judgment thereby. Ponteris destroys law, freeing men from fear and shame. The latter may be closer to happiness than the former.'

  'The doctrines of Ponteris are not his own,' Rahdmus said, 'They were taught to him by me, when I still fancied myself to be mighty. But I spoke them in bold ignorance and rebellious bombast, not in truth and wisdom. But to men such as Cheft Ponteris bold words and novel ideas will pass for proof. You may be right, I should add, that his ways may be closer to happiness. That I have no reason to deny. But happiness has never made anything true.'

  Rahdmus looked long at the fire ere he spoke again. 'Of the nature of worth I have but little to say, for I have less claim upon that ancient blade than you, though I remember the day of its forging well.' With that he lifted his eyes and looked to me.

  Good and Evil

  I began by saying:

  'There once was a mighty king in Solsis called Agradis, who desired above all things to be at peace with his neighbors. He sent great gifts of gold and silver to them each in turn. He never neglected them in their times of trial and was always there to be a support.

  'But nevertheless, his neighbors continually made provocations at him, crossing his borders at will, betraying covenants, and ensnaring and oppressing his people. Not wishing to go to war, King Agradis sent out to his neighbors two ambassadors. One was Mennos, a just man, equal in all his ways. The other was Zinglus, a passionate man, caring and thoughtful. These two set out together to bring the message of the King's desire for peace. The king ordered them to bring no swords or weapons with which to defend or attack. They were sent not to threaten war but to preserve peace.

  'Mennos was sent to the southern city, while Zinglus was commanded to go to the northern. But when each man arrived in their respective locations they found that the men to whom they had been sent did not desire peace, but rather conquest, even of all the land over which King Agradis ruled. Many hard words did they, in that hour, speak against the King. Mennos, remembering his master's commandment, refused so much as to raise a finger in judgment against them. They mocked him and sent him away with cruel words and threats of war against his people.

  'Zinglus had no better welcome in the north. But hearing such malicious words of hate directed toward his master, he was overcome with anger. In the dark of night he entered the chambers of the northern city and slew their lord and made a bold escape from the city, putting many of its mightiest men to shame. In due course the men arrived at Agradis' courts, each bearing the news of their adventures. Which of these two emissaries, Daryas, do you think the king welcomed with great compassion and kindness, and which do you think he sent away from his city, quartered and burned with fire?

  Daryas looked at me with great confusion, 'My guess would be that the king slew Zinglus, who dishonored his commandment, and welcomed Mennos to his halls with gladness.'

  'You guess well, son of Biron,' I said, 'The northern city was not appeased by the body of the emissary and they soon marched to war against Agradis. The southern kingdom, remembering with shame how they had treated their neighbor, came to his aid at the last moment and the northern kingdom was by their mutual strength subdued for a time. Though it is not always so in the world, the righteousness of the good emissary was vindicated and the wickedness of the other demonstrated.

  'What is good, but that which fulfills its purpose? And what is purpose, but the object of the will? What is it then that made Zinglus a devil of a servant? Is it not that he refused to heed his master's will? It is the will that determines what
is right and good, and the will that abhors that which is wicked and evil. In this world there are many courses that are possible, but only the will can set one aside as greater than the other.'

  'Is this not the very doctrine of Ponteris?' Daryas asked sincerely.

  'Ponteris has within his grasp the form of Good and Evil only, namely, he knows that they are derived from the will, which is to say, from our desires and wishes. But he has only splashed at the water, he has not bathed in the stream.'

  'Go on,' Daryas said, interestedly.

  'To what do men appeal, when they make all their various kinds of arguments?'

  'They make their appeals to Reason,' Revere responded.

  'And Reason is simply a matter of saying what is said of a group of that which is contained therein. Of men it is said, 'they are creatures fated to perish with the brutes'. Add to this the fact that some individual is identified by the name 'man', and you have a proof of that individual's inevitable demise. But say of mankind, that 'they ought to be peaceful', and add to this that we are all men. It follows not from this that we are peaceful. One can only conclude what was said, which is that man ought to be peaceful. What moral truth, then, can ever be proven from this world, which gives to us only what is, and never what ought to be? For if all that we are given is what 'is', all we can ever conclude is what 'is'. You cannot derive, except by magic or by deceit - but certainly not by reason, what 'ought' to be from what is. This simple principle, overlooked by all, is the starting point for the ways and wisdom of the Nihlion, who have safeguarded this truth since the most ancient days. Good and evil will never be discoverable in the nature of the world.'

 

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