by Jake Yaniak
But in the end, Daryas wearied, and Natham's spear caught his cloak and pinned him to the ground. But even as the monster came upon him there was heard the sound of a horse's gallop. With a great whinny, Novai appeared and kicked against Admunth with his hooves. No other horse would have had the strength to move him, but Novai knocked him back nearly six feet. A man dropped down from atop the horse and cut Daryas' cloak, freeing him from the monster's spear. 'Come!' he shouted, and he helped the winded son of Biron climb onto the horse's back. They rode away in a flash and nothing could stand in the way of that mighty horse.
'Revere!?' Daryas said with great surprise. 'I thought you were not fit for battles.'
'I said I was not fit for fighting in battles, but I am not altogether without use.'
'I am glad that you came when you did.'
'I was sent by Rahdmus,' Revere said, 'he seemed to have some ill feeling about today.
'In that he was right,' Daryas said, 'And I shouldn't wonder that he had such a feeling, since all we have done has been in opposition to his counsel. What a price I nearly paid for it. I am sure that the monster will not rest until I am dead.'
'It is said,' Revere told him as they rode back toward the upper gates, 'that he sought the blood of Olver on account of a woman.'
'A woman?' Daryas said with great surprise. 'What do you mean? Wait,' Daryas interrupted himself, 'First tell me how on earth you might know such a thing.'
'Looking to make myself useful somehow, I went to help order those who fled from Dusktown. Among them I discovered no small number of refugees, some of them even from Fahsro, which was the last of Daevaron's strongholds to fall into Marin's hands. The monster rages, they say, because he seeks the love of a woman, and because that woman was taken captive into Dadron.'
'Is this true?' Daryas asked with great amazement.
'Who can tell,' Revere said. 'But the monster sought Olver Galvahirne by name, and it is impossible that Olver can be guilty of such a thing. First, because he was in no position to do so, ever since the fall of your father's house. Secondly, he was a man of honor, and would not dare commit such a heinous crime; he is certainly wise enough not to steal a woman from the land of Marin!'
'Indeed,' Daryas agreed, 'But what does all of this mean?'
'It means that the monster has been deceived, and that he fights for a lie.'
At that moment the words of Lutrosis returned to Daryas' mind, "When you draw your blade in battle, when you spill the innocent blood of your foes, you will be fighting for my sake." Then his imagination brought before his mind all those he had slain with his sword, and the warrior Arakai, who he had maimed and left for dead in the lower city. His heart sunk; he knew that it was Lutrosis that now ruled over his every move, yet he could not excuse himself for all that had been done. 'Tomorrow, at least,' he thought to himself, 'I will not fight for the devil's pleasure, but only for the sake of those who might be saved from this slaughter.'
Chapter XII:
The Siege Ends
Impatience
When Olver was slain, Cheftan Ponteris Oastirne summoned his step-son to his estate. There he greeted him with great joy and asked of him 'one small thing'.
'Kidnapping?' Sion said with disgust, when his task had been explained to him. 'Have you no hireling oafs to do such muddy deeds?'
'Nonetheless,' Ponteris said to him seriously, 'I can trust only my own kin.'
No greater testimony can be made of the strength of the sons of Galvahir, and of the valor of Cheft Biron, than the price that was paid to win over the allegiance of Cheft Ponteris. This is not to say that Ponteris was not wicked already, but to give such a worm the boldness and courage to set himself against the lord of the Galvahirne, it required a great deal of bribery, and a great deal of reassurance. Men such as Ponteris, however brave they may seem when they are surrounded by their friends and guardians, are the most unfaithful of allies. In the end, the luster of gold drew him into the plot against Dadron. This was accomplished, first, by the promise that Biron and the Galvahirne would be once and for all broken and removed from power. It was promised that he would have whatever protection he deemed necessary. This they gave to him in the form of a great mercenary force from Titalo and another from Daevaron. Some two-thousand burly and brainless men, well armed and without soul, were ever under his command, their purses lined with gold from the treasury of Amlaman.
In addition to this, he was promised, 'whatever it is that you might desire.' This last promise he laid claim upon when he made his visit to Marin. There he saw the great beauty of Lyris, the Marshall of the Eastern borders of Olgrost. The request was made, and Queen Marin quickly agreed, the reasons for which must find their place elsewhere. But nonetheless, it was not fully her will that Lyris be handed over needlessly to the 'Barbarian lord', as she termed Cheft Ponteris. There was still some reverence of her first mother's legacy within her, and she ordered that Lyris be kept on the northern island of Cebrost until it was clear that the Noras lord had made good upon his promises.
The coming of Lyris was eagerly anticipated by Cheft Ponteris, who insisted that no greater beauty had as yet set foot upon the earth. Much to his frustration he was told, after frequent inquiry, that he must wait in patience for his prize. When he pressed his hand, he was told, in very formal language, to keep his belt tightened until an end was made of the sons of Galvahir.
Thus it was with great frustration that Ponteris received the news that Daryas Galvahirne was still living, just hours after he had received the news of Olver's passing. Many things seemed to happen to him in that instant. A habit of pacing and swearing beneath his breath began at that hour. He grew troubled and all his humor and bravado left him. He made no more bold speeches about the folly of the clerics and the foolishness of pious old women. For all intents and purposes it might be said that he began to believe the prophecies of Rahdmus, though he prayed and worked against them, vainly. Also, remembering the words 'By your own flesh and blood shall your end come', he resolved to make an end of Sion, so that no harm might come to him.
Thinking himself rather clever, he resolved to eliminate two problems by means of a single solution. He meant to have Sion carry his prize secretly from Cebrost, and hopefully to perish in the attempt.
As time passed, Ponteris grew more and more impatient and desperate. At last he gave up on pleading altogether and openly threatened the safety of Sion's new family. 'What will you do, ingrate, will you stay in your bed forever, with your new wife that I have given to you? Nay, you are not the lord of Noras. You must arise, though the hour is late, and make some use of yourself. It was not for free that you were given the gem of your heart's longing. It was on faith; now make good on your end.'
'My end? I've done my part in sparing your life,' Sion retorted.
'Looking back,' Ponteris said, 'I don't recall feeling particularly threatened by you; not so threatened at least to justify giving you so great a prize.'
In the end, Sion was compelled to go, though he cursed every minute of that dreadful endeavor. It may well be said that in having already swallowed the lion's share of his pride, he had little remaining when the Ponteris made his demands. But though Ponteris wished Sion not to return from this dangerous endeavor, he did not want the mission itself to end in failure. To this end he sent also Bronning, one of his most trusted men.
Bronning was a dark and grim man, with a dark and grim reputation. It was said that for a price he would not hold back his blade from anything. Among his fellow mercenaries it was said that Bronning would cut his own throat if he were offered a high enough wage. Browning had under his command a band of forty men. They were men of Titalo, and had much knowledge of both the sea and the island of Cebrost to which they were sent. Sion, along with ten other men of Noras, were sent along as their 'commanders', though the greater authority was conferred, in secret, to the mercenaries.
Thus, in the beginning of that year, Sion and a crew of mercenaries set out from some small norther
n port for Titalo. There they hired a ship such as the pirates and mercenaries of Titalo are known to use, and they set out for the island of Cebrost. When at last, after several months of searching, they discovered the whereabouts of Lyris, they came upon that city under the darkness of night, slaying the guards and stealing away the Marshall of Marin, carrying her back to their ship bound and blindfolded. When they returned, however, and when Bronning was intended to take command of the ship by slaying the men of Noras, it was discovered that the men of Noras had not returned with them. A frantic search was made, but there was no time to discover what had become of them. Some, indeed, had fallen in the course of the raid, but six at least of them remained wholly unaccounted for, including the son of Ponteris. With many a curse, Bronning was forced to return to Noras with but one half of his task fulfilled.
'What matters it to you?' he bellowed at his employer, when Ponteris accused him of carelessness. 'You have both of your desires, Sion has fled, and he shall not set foot again in this forest. Set your heart upon your prize, and revile not those who most faithfully serve you.'
'You most faithfully serve your master the coin,' Ponteris said with desperation, 'I did not wish Sion gone, or exiled - exiled to return with vengeance - I wanted him slain.'
Bronning stood still for a moment, finally realizing the truth of the circumstance. A grin came across his face, 'You believe the old man,' he said coldly. 'You believe his prophecy! Master of cunning words, by priest-talk you have been silenced! Ha!'
'Begone from me!' Ponteris hollered, 'Here is your pay, here is double, but begone from me, and return not!'
Bronning and the False Prophet
Bronning, as has been said, had a reputation of being the sort of man that would do anything, however vile and wicked it might be, for the sake of wealth. When he left Cheftan Ponteris he traveled northeast toward the coast with his band of mercenaries. There, when night had fallen, he came across a peculiar scene. Thinking themselves to have come upon an encampment of brigands, and thinking they might despoil them of whatever they possessed, he commanded his men to approach the camp in secret and to await his signal ere they attack. But when they reached the camp, they were at once awestruck and tamed by what they saw.
In the center of the camp, under firelight, they saw a thin man dressed in crimson robes. This man had the look of a holy man, but he did not appear to be one of the priests of Pelas. His name, as was later discovered, was Lokhi, and he was a man of Dae-la. Born a peasant, he had no wealth and no heritage to speak of. Of all those who lived in Noras in those days, his household was one of the few that could say certainly that they had no relation whatsoever to any Cheftan at any time throughout all of the long history of that forest. But in such a state of poverty and dishonor, he arose among the people in that region as a prophet. Mimicking the words of Rahdmus, and in fact, claiming to have been sent by him, he had gathered to himself a great company of poor and dissatisfied people. From these he exacted tribute from all that they possessed, so that in a very short while the prophet made himself quite wealthy, as was evidenced by his ridiculous attire.
Bronning and his men came upon them just as he began to speak to his people:
'Men of Noras, sons of darkness though ye be! Know ye not that the wicked shall be driven from these very woods and into the hills like the goblins of old? Do ye not see how the enemy of the gods has made himself king? And how he has taken from the poor and trampled truth under foot? How long, I say, how long can this continue unabated? Men of Noras, there will come an hour, when every one of ye must draw swords and fight against those who would be your oppressors. Soon it will be that Noras will be given over to the poor, and taken forever from the hands of fool Cheftans, be they of Galvahir, Cossa, Oastir or Dael. These have grown rich by the sweat of the weak.
Do ye not see how the wicked thrive and the good are destroyed? Is this not an absurdity? Shall it be like this forever, until men say at last that the gods have forsaken mankind?
No. I tell you truly, men of Noras, there will come a day when fire will rain down upon your heads, and every wicked man will be devoured. I have seen the world of flame; in a dream it was given to my eyes to behold. Hear me, men of Noras, and believe! There is a mountain of ice, such that if ye set foot upon it thy toes would freeze in an instant, and break from thy foot. But step away from this mountain, my dear men, and ye will set your foot in a valley of flame that would melt thine flesh in an instant. How will ye escape, oh wicked men? How will ye escape the torment of the mountain, or the hot burning flames of the valley? Turn ye, therefore, and pledge thy swords to the work of the gods. Be not destroyed with the wicked in that day! Turn ye to the gods, and you will find treasures abounding in the realm of the stars!'
As strange as it is to recount, something in that message struck terror deep into the heart of Bronning, and indeed, in the hearts of his men. In that hour they emerged from the woods almost in unison, weeping and pleading for the holy man to pray for them. 'Of what utility,' Bronning wept, 'is all the gold in the world, if I am to lose it all in the flames beneath the earth?'
So it was that Bronning and his mercenaries had found at last their final employer, and the promise of an incorruptible heavenly wealth became their last wage.
The Last Battle
By the end of fifteenth day of Paschest, when Daryas had fought against the monster Natham for the second time, the bodies of the people of Marin, Olgrost and Amlaman were lying in heaps, and beside them in heaps were the men of Dadron. All the efforts of Dadron's bravest could do no more than contain their enemies, and they contained them at great cost to their own numbers. Cries rent the night and weeping filled the city, such that even the soldiers of Marin and the warriors of Amlaman could scarcely hold back their own tears, both for their kinsmen who had fallen and for the women whose voices echoed down from the upper city, calling out to their husbands and their sons, not knowing whether they were living or dead. Indeed, it was reckoned that on that day, of all days in that terrible war, the greatest number of men had been slain.
The flood of tears was overcome, however, by a heavy rain, as if the heavens themselves burst forth in sorrow. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, filling the city with darkness, wind and dread. The soldiers of Marin huddled together in cloth tents and market canopies such as they had occasion to find in the streets of the lower city. The men of Amlaman braved the rain and wind with stern faces, waiting for the end and for the dawn, when their ambitions might be renewed. They had been halted in that place for two days, but in their minds was little doubt but that the city would fall when at last their lord entered in. 'On the morrow,' they were assured, 'the king of Amlaman, that Fell Wolf of Heyan, shall ride in with banners and noise, and ride in to victory. Marin has had her hour, but now there is a war to be waged.'
But no new warriors came from Amlaman the next day, a very troubling fact, that took its toll on the warriors within the city, who for the first time considered failure to be a possibility. The battle began much in the same way as before, with the soldiers of Marin and the warriors of Amlaman attempting to break into the upper city, and the warriors of Noras and of Dadron attempting to drive them out, or to exterminate them where they stood.
In the chaos of the war, Daryas now did what he could to fulfill the advice of Rahdmus. He left the army of Marin unmolested, to what degree he was able, and focused his efforts on fighting the men of Amlaman. This he did with great reluctance, for he did not wish his contest with the monster to end in a draw. This sentiment he ascribed, in his heart, to the will of Lutrosis, who seemed to pine for more glorious warfare. But the greatest part of the day was spent encircling and slaying the many groups of Amlamani warriors that now haunted the eastern city.
Lord Kardian, however, focused his efforts on the army of Marin. Of them he slew personally some one hundred soldiers. But by the day's end he was driven away by the fierce anger of the monster, who cast him from his horse. He fell to the ground in a thud and f
ound that both his wrists were broken. He fled into the city and vanished from the monster's sight. There he found some of his men, and made his way back to the upper city, to fight no longer in the war.
When this had finished, the monster, by some trick of light, caught sight of Daryas from afar, and thinking it would be advantageous to their strategy to cut down the leaders of their foes, he rushed like a storm wind into the east. Daryas' heart sunk at the sight of the monster, not so much for fear of death as for fear that Lutrosis would once more gain the ascendance.
'The one you seek is not here,' Daryas told the monster, 'Not a man in Dadron has knowledge of the one you accuse us of detaining.'
'What use are such words at this hour,' Natham roared, 'Save to halt the steps of the foolish. Did not your cities receive their due warning? Did not the Daevaron at every turn have a way of escape? Did not Olver, lord of this city, receive the report of my coming, and the demand that came with it?'
'Truly you have been lied to,' Daryas said, 'for Olver was not of this land, but of Noras, which lies far to the north.'
With those words spoken, circumstances forced them into combat. Several horsemen of Noras rode against the monster with spears uplifted. Of these he slew the first and used his body to swipe the others from their saddles. Also, the hirelings of Olgrost, remembering the wounds of their ally Arakai, came against Daryas with a fury. In a short time, these were slain, and Daryas and Natham found themselves once more in mortal combat.
The Sword of Pelas found its way past the monster's shield and cut deep into the Natham's shoulder. With a cry of anger and pain he swung his arm and knocked the helmet from Daryas' head. The whole world seemed to Daryas to turn white at that moment and every sound became a dull thud to his ears. He had scarcely recovered when Natham attempted to pierce him with his spear. He dropped to the ground and laid beneath the blow, barely evading it by more than an inch. Natham tried to crush him beneath his shield, but Daryas rolled backward and rose again to his feet. The shield and the spear again charged at him, like a furious bull, charging with pointed horns. But again Daryas dodged the attack. He leapt upon Natham's back and tried to cut his throat. But Natham grabbed him by the foot and lifted him, upside down, off of his shoulders. He hung him in from of his face and thrust the fell blade Skatos Ereg from beneath his cloak. Daryas, by luck, by skill or by fate, whirled his sword around, blocking the strike. He slashed at the monster's arm, cutting deeply into his wrist. The monster released him, and Daryas fell onto his back with a thud. The two swords clashed with one another again and again, Skatos Ereg seeming to carry within itself the night, and the sword of Pelas the day. But in the end the night triumphed. Skatos Ereg swung down hard, shattering the Sword of Pelas and cutting a deep wound into the Galvahirne's forehead, sending blood flowing over his eyes. Some later said that the dark blade itself laughed as it made an end of that famous blade. In that moment the sun itself seemed to flee from the sky and lightning struck the city in many places, including, it was said, the Temple of Pelas itself. Almost as soon as it had occurred it was reported throughout the city that the Holy Sword had fallen.
