by Jake Yaniak
When Natham had made an end of Ollitov, and when he had given instructions to those who followed him, he turned his face toward the north, and set out alone for Oastir-la. He followed no roads and asked for no directions, his ancient memories seemed to draw him to his first home like wine draws a fly. Thus he came upon the sleepy estate of Cheftan Ponteris just as the sun went down. He saw, in the waning light, the great beauty of the whole region. The trees were tall and strong, for all those with crooked trunks or patched canopies had been hewn down. No animals remained in that place, for they had all been hunted and driven away. A serene, deathly silence pervaded the whole scene. There he halted, to look upon that statue.
'Guarded from wind, from rain, from cold and from foes,' he thought. 'It is good that he should take such heed for stones, AND such heed for his own honor. But his son! Ah, that ugliness was fit for death, even as every imperfect thing.'
With no hesitation he took the statue from its foundation and cast it down across the road, shattering it into a thousand pieces. 'This land will soon resemble the Barbarian's heart. Exterminate that which troubles the eye as you will, oh father, but you will never drive the ugliness from your soul.'
He made his way to the house, where he was soon confronted by a dozen armed brigands, such as Ponteris kept at his side at all times. It was easy work, making an end of these golden-haired mercenaries. In a short while, and ere they could summon further aid, the whole guard of Ponteris' estate lay in heaps of broken men and shattered swords. Admunth and his spear he had left behind in Dadron. Skatos Ereg alone he bore now in his blackened left hand. With every stroke of the blade a low growl could be heard from somewhere deep within him. A growl more of delight than anger.
Though in all, some two hundred warriors were to be found in that house on that day, no word came to Ponteris of this sudden assault. It did not enter into any of their minds that they would need help against but one man, and by the time they discovered it, it was too late to scream. So it was that Ponteris was completely unaware that his fate drew so near to him. He had, in fact, sent his soldiers to the far side of his house. For it was that very afternoon that he had driven Bronning from his side with his cold and rash words. From that moment he locked Lyris in his own chambers and counted the minutes until his daily affairs had drawn to their close.
When at last he had finished his daily tasks, he retired to his chamber, ordering his servants to keep away, 'For I am feeling a slight chill, and I do not wish to be bothered.'
When Natham at last found his way into that portion of the house, he heard the sound of glass breaking. He sought out the source of this commotion and when he at last found the Cheftan's door, he heard for the first time in years, the voice of that one soul among women who shed for him real tears of pity. The door was slightly ajar and in the room he saw the Cheftan, with blood pouring from a gash in his head, wrestling with a young woman in a bright white, though blood-stained dress. The blood, he apprehended, belonged to Ponteris.
'Witch!' Ponteris bellowed as he held his wound. 'Know you not what men like me shall become, when Dadron at last has fallen!? We will be like gods, ruling over the superstitious fools like shepherds over their flocks.'
'What bewitchment of folly has fallen upon my queen I know not,' she replied, 'but I would sooner die than let your slightest finger touch me. It was in vain that I was promised you. For at least one of us shall end this a corpse; either I die to be free of you, or you shall die, and I will be free.'
With those words he struck her in the face with the back of his fist, and leapt upon her, putting his hands to her throat, banging her head onto the floor. Once more, Judan roared, and such a roar it was that echoes of it were heard, or so it was said, in Cossa-la and Megd-la. Ponteris fell back and groped for his weapon, which lay on a table near at hand. Natham made no effort to stop him. He looked down at Lyris' face. She seemed to him so beautiful and so peaceful. 'Sleep, then,' he said, thinking she was dead 'And wake to a better fate than this.'
Cheftan Ponteris lifted his sword in the air to strike, but Natham blocked his strike with ease. Skatos Ereg seemed to devour all light and color in that room, and the blade of the Cheftan shattered like glass as soon as it touched the evil blade. With his black left hand and his strong right, Natham grasped the hands of his father in his, pulverizing every finger as he squeezed them. Ponteris shrieked and begged for mercy. 'Mercy I shall give to you in plenty,' the monster said; even as you gave to me long ago - for I pity you. A pity to death, and a pity to murder.'
'I don't know you, devil, I never saw you before!' he screamed.
Skatos Ereg thrust forward and pierced the Cheftan's chest, but the monster stopped ere the blade struck his heart. Back, he pushed the fool Cheftan, back toward the fireplace, wherein a strong blaze was dancing about.
'You have accomplished much, father,' Natham said, 'But there is one thing that you failed to finish.'
Then Natham paused and looked back at the fallen girl. 'No more shall that kind heart warm this earth; all light has grown dim with her passing, as the sun vanishes into the west, so Lyris goes to that darker realm. But perhaps there she will shine also. But I, in this darkness, have only flame to look to. Yes, flame and heat, such as I felt of old.' With those words the Cheftan's right arm was released and the black arm of Judan lifted the cloak from off his face, to look his father in the eye.
In that instant, when he saw those fierce burns and scars, Ponteris knew at last what had transpired. 'Not drowned!?' he whimpered, 'Not drowned!?' Then, this one last thought crossed his mind, and seared itself into him so deeply that no other thought, despite all that would soon follow, could so much as move him. He heard again the words of Rahdmus, 'Death and vengeance shall fall upon this house, By your own flesh and blood shall your end come, By the fire you long ago kindled shall your own flesh be burned.'
'Very well Judan,' Natham said, 'Let it be done then. If this is your will, then I will not withhold it from you. In all our days, and in all our wars, you have always suffered more. I neither can be, nor desire to be sundered from you, and where you will go, so must I.'
With that the black left hand of Judan clutched the Cheftan by the throat and thrust him into the flame, where he helplessly writhed in agony, until at last his body was consumed. But as he burned, the flames began to crawl up the dark arm of Judan, and to light his cloak on fire. Natham closed his eyes and whispered, 'So ends it brother, our long nightmare.'
To this sight Lyris awoke, and seeing the monster in flames she rose to pull him away. But the flames were too great, and had now spread to the walls and to the carpets. Suddenly, however, a great light appeared, as if from within the flame itself, and Lyris fell to her knees with her face upward toward the ceiling. In that moment all the shadows of that dim room vanished and the whole scene was washed in a heavenly glow. She saw no longer the ugly Cheftan, nor the burning flame, it seemed the whole world was now on fire, but not a burning fire - a life giving flame.
Before her stood Natham and another man, an old man robed in brown with a rope for a belt. But as she watched, she saw the body of Natham come undone, and, though she could never adequately describe it, she saw the brothers come untangled before her eyes. Soft, white skin and smooth dark hair now sat upon the once hideous face of Judan, and the two brothers stood side by side shining as it were with their own light.
'For what is this given us?' Natham seemed to ask the man.
The old man said with a smile, 'Of all men, Natham, son of Ponteris, you have been the most honest. There were many dark things that have come into your life unbidden, but that which was left within your power you handled with much courage and kindness. The work which you were ordained to do, you have done without fail, and, children, no other could have done it.
With that the vision passed, and Lyris found herself in a dark and cold place. But as she looked she saw from afar two brilliant stars appear, and then after them all the rest of the celestial host. These two stars
shone upon her face and warmed her heart. But her exhausted eyes gave in at last and she fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.
End of Book IV
Book V:
The Siren's Song
Chapter I:
The Elves Awaken
The Star-Seer
'Tell me Star-seer,' the god of Dadron commanded, 'what do the Astral Lords have to teach by way of prophecy?'
'You shall go to Amlaman,' a quiet and labored voice replied. 'And there you shall be reborn, and a kingdom shall be given to you: a kingdom that shall never end, so long as there is a world. Moreover, you shall come to rule over even the Immortals of the Far South.'
The Star-Seer lay beside Pelas upon a stone table near the edge of a cliff in the Southern mountains of Weldera. There he rested with his face looking up at the heavens, even as he had been doing for the past several thousand years. His glassy eyes were large and round, having doubled in size during his long and miserable life. His nose had vanished altogether, save for two tiny holes. His hair had ceased to grow long ago, leaving his head bald and his face exposed to the elements. His mouth was cracked and dry like the deserts of Kharku, and his flesh was as gray as the stone upon which he lay. His body, if it be proper to call it a body, was shriveled up on the table. Over the years the roots of a tree had enveloped, encased, consumed and entombed him, so that only here and there could a glimpse of his bone-thin arms and legs be discerned. But in the end the tree itself perished, and left him alone, lingering on in this sorry state.
Near his head sat a tall man, dressed in black with his face covered by a pale gray mask. Upon his knee there lay a scroll, and in his hand was a pen. He wrote down all that the Star-Seer said, though he could neither hear nor see to whom the creature was speaking.
'Then Dadron Almighty shall stand?' Pelas said.
'The enemies of Dadron shall break apart like waves upon a mighty stone,' the Star-Seer replied.
'Tell me, wise one,' Pelas thundered nervously, 'Is this certain? Is this your prophecy as a Star-Seer?'
'It is,' the Star-Seer answered, 'And there are none that can call this into question.'
The Star-Seers are, along with the Magic Tower of Lapulia itself, the last remnant of the glory days of Lapulia, which no history now remembers. They are older than the elves; and wiser. For this reason the elvish histories have ignored them altogether. Indeed, the jealousy of the elves has even led some of their number to hunt and kill these sorry creatures where they lay. In this manner almost all the Star-Seers of Olgrost, Vestron and Weldera were slain; their great wisdom dying also. They are safe now only in Dominas where the City of Lapulia holds the sovereign authority. Some say, however, that there are some yet living in Kharku, where all things fantastical and strange dwell. But in Weldera there remained now only one, and there were none besides Pelas and the Mages of Lapulia who knew where to find him.
To guard him the Mages secretly maintained three of their deadly Assassins upon the mountain at all times. Of all men of arms, these Lapulians are perhaps the most skillful in the arts of stealth and murder. As this nameless and debilitated beast was their last set of eyes in Weldera, they maintained a constant guard upon him. One man was always resting while the other two took their turns either recording what what spoken by the Star-Seer or lying in wait to slay any and all who purposefully or accidentally approached the Seer. All of this, of course, was done secretly. For the powers of Weldera would not suffer an agent of Lapulia to dwell within their borders. For, although the Star-Seers were charged to speak everything they discovered regardless of what field of study it fell under, they were bound by an oath to reveal to the Mages of Lapulia anything that had reference to the security and prosperity of Dominas.
The Star-Seers, as the name implies, gaze at the stars above; and they do naught else, save for the recounting of their discoveries. From their endless observation of the wheeling heavens these creatures learned all the motions and relations of the stars, the sun and the moon. By way of calculation they could determine also many things that would occur on the earth itself. That is, by their deep understanding they were able to discern all causes, and to see the ends of all actions, and, knowing the interconnection of all things, learn all this from the observation of the stars. It was in imitation of them that the Knarsemen developed their elaborate superstitions about the stars and their various powers. The Ohhari also, with all their prophetic expectations, have the Star-Seers as their inspiration.
Lord Pelas had learned of this creature in the days of Dadron's ascendancy, when yet the elves dwelt in Weldera. But his speech with the creature betrayed his existence to the Assassins, and what was said by the Seer in response to his queries made its way in turn to Lapulia, where the sagacious Mages learned much concerning the plans and strategies of the elves. Now he came to this creature again, as his own destiny seemed to be rapidly approaching its climax. But though this omniscient sage had assured him twice, Pelas could not resist pressing the matter further, asking him again, 'Is there no doubt in your mind then, Star-Seer?'
The sad creature inhaled deeply, gathering enough air to speak. 'Think not, master,' he began, 'that we Star-Seers are without doubt. That power which allows the mind to deduce what lies beyond its purview is the very same power that allows the mind to think something other than what is. It is this latter faculty that gives birth to doubt. Insofar as we Star-Seers are possessed of the former, we are likewise possessed of the latter. We doubt, my lord.'
'How then can you say your word is sure?'
'When I say my prophecy is final, master, it is because my calculations are final, and my conclusions without a doubt follow from the courses of the stars above. But how can I say, master, that there is not something that has not entered into my deductions? The eye has color and form for its domain, the nose has scent and the tongue has taste. There are other senses too. Do not err in thinking that what is learned therefrom must necessarily exhaust all things.'
Pelas exhorted him to look again at the stars, and to tell him if there was aught else that he could discern.'
'I will look to the stars again, master,' he said in a weary voice. 'But I cannot see what is not meant for eyes, nor smell what is not meant for the nose. In vain will you pry into the night sky overlong - certainty belongs only to the gods.'
'I am the god of Falsis,' Pelas said angrily, storming away from that place in great wrath, disappearing into the wild lands that surrounded that mountain and passing unnoticed by the Seer's guardians. This meeting between the god and the seer took place on the eleventh day of Solest, in the year prior to the fall of Natham and the Battle of Dadron.
The Emissary
When Lord Pelas returned at last to Dadron hill some six days later there was gathered a great host of spirits to greet him. They had been summoned from every corner of Falsis to honor their master and to renew their allegiance to him. The words of the Star-Seer had been spread throughout the land; and it was believed among the spirits, and it was almost certainly the truth, that on the ground of this prophecy the Lapulians would withhold their support from Marin and Amlaman. Their hopes were kindled, despite the great numbers that marched in Marin's army, and the great strength of the warriors of Amlaman.
'It is time for the faithful to reveal themselves,' Pelas had told his counselors.
But there was also among the spirits a man of flesh and blood, cloaked in white, with long brown hair hanging down to his waist. When Pelas was seated at last, and after he had greeted his generals, he turned his attention to this strange visitor. 'What is your name?' he asked, 'I apprehend that you are one of the Immortals.' the god said to the man. 'Moreover, you must know the old passages, to come into the city in a time of war.'
'I am one of the elves,' the man said, bowing down so that his forehead touched the ground. 'And happy am I to hear your voice once again, my lord.'
'I do not remember you,' Pelas said callously.
'I did not expect such an honor, my lord,' the
man replied. 'I was but a boy when our enemies tore the world asunder. There are two things I shall never forget: The envy of the dragons and the glory of my lord Pelas.' Among the elves the fury of the dragons was often invoked in oaths and ceremonies, but to call it 'envy' was a sign of loyalty such as only the truest servants of Pelas would make.
Pelas nodded approvingly. 'Rise, my son,' he said. The visitor lifted his face from the ground and knelt before the god of Dadron, his eyes looking only at Pelas' feet. 'What is your name, and for what have you come before the god of Weldera?'
'I am Simnahi,' the man answered, 'and I have been sent unto you by my lord, who rules over the Verdantahin, in the Hidden South.'
'Then you are come from Malgier, from the side of Bralahi the Zealous?'
'Long has it been since he has been called by that name. Since the death of his wife he has been known only as the Lord of Sorrows.'
'What does your master seek in the North?' Pelas demanded.
'He sends with me a message, meant for your ears alone.'
Pelas turned his eyes toward his servants. They, knowing his will, departed from their master in haste, scattering into the shadows. When the Temple had been emptied, the messenger spoke, 'Thus speaks the Lord of the South:
'When I heard that the Walls of Dadron were encompassed about by enemies, my heart leapt within me with hope, for I knew that my lord Pelas yet ruled. When I heard that Agonistes yet lived, having returned from hell itself, my heart sunk into the depths of despair. I am one of the few - nay, I am the only living soul who remembers the prophecy of Aedanla. It is time for the powers of day and night to strive for the mastery. But the sun is greater than the moon, light casts away darkness, and darkness has no power over it. The time has come for the god of Weldera to ascend to his eternal throne and rule over the mortals again, even as it was in the days of old. The vessel has been found in the land of Joplis, and surely the devil will be drawn to her. But he will not attain to godhood, for he is full of evil.
