“Good-bye, Milah,” he said, and fell to the stone floor, dead.
TWENTY-NINE
Boric never felt his body strike the stone floor, but he did hear the distant beating of wings: Viriana the Eytrith had returned on her faithful steed Bubbles the wyndbahr. Boric got to his feet, ignoring Milah sobbing over his inanimate corpse, and walked to meet Bubbles as he alighted on the balcony.
“Hey there, boy,” said Boric, rubbing the giant animal under its chin. “Good to see you.” Bubbles licked Boric’s face excitedly.
Viriana slid off the wyndbahr’s back.
“Good to see you too,” said Boric to Viriana. He was struck again by her beauty; she was, in her own way, as beautiful as Milah had been twenty years earlier. And Viriana’s blond tresses always had that fetching windblown look, like she had just gotten off the back of a wyndbahr. He continued, “I’m a little surprised you bothered to come back. I imagine I’ve slipped a few notches in the rankings, what with sparing the lives of prisoners, letting the Six Armies escape, and throwing away my sword. I guess I’m just not cut out to drink mead with the likes of Hollick the Goblin-Slayer.”
“No, I suppose not,” she said.
“So where are you taking me? Not the Hall of Avandoor, surely. Some afterlife equivalent of the little kids’ table?”
Viriana laughed. “Boric, let me explain something to you about the Halls of Avandoor. You’re familiar with Grovlik and Magartha, right?”
“Of course,” said Boric. “Grovlik is the great father-god who created the land of Dis. Magartha is his wife, goddess of living things.”
“And what do you know of Kirilan?”
“The land of the dead? As much as anyone, I suppose. It is said to be a dark, shadowy land where the spirits of the dead roam aimlessly forever. Except for the greatest warriors, who are allowed to partake in the eternal feast in Avandoor.”
“Yeah, not exactly,” said Viriana. “I’ll tell you the real story.” She began:
“Grovlik created Dis, and Magartha filled it with living creatures. But shortly after she filled Dis with life, Magartha’s creations began to die. This didn’t particularly bother Grovlik; he pointed out that new creatures were being born all the time to replace the ones that died. He figured that everything balanced out. But Magartha was saddened by death — particularly the death of human beings, who had such short lifespans to begin with. She created a new land, an even better land than Dis, called Kirilan, where the spirits of those who died could go after death. Some people — murderers and other scum — she didn’t bother to resurrect, but anyone who had tried to live a good life was transported to Kirilan to be given another chance at happiness.
“But soon Magartha faced a problem: Kirilan was a bountiful land, where there was plenty for everyone. There was no need for warfare or fighting. So what to do with all the warriors who had died bravely in combat, men who were basically good-hearted but whose lives had been devoted to fighting and killing? Such men weren’t content with a quiet life of gardening or fishing. Not only that, but they threatened to disrupt the idyllic existence of the other residents of Kirilan with their brawling and carousing.
“So Magartha in her wisdom built a great fortress on an island in the middle of the Kirilan Sea. The whole fortress was one gigantic banquet hall filled with the most wonderful food and drink imaginable. She filled the hall with all the great warriors who lived in Kirilan, telling them she was treating them to a feast in honor of their bravery and skill. As more great warriors died, she sent them to the banquet hall as well, and soon it was the most amazing gathering of warriors anyone had ever known. They regaled each other with their stories, each one attempting to outdo the last. The food and drink never gave out, so the banquet just went on and on. It’s been going on now for over a thousand years.”
“So all this time,” Boric started, “I’ve been trying to get into…”
“A prison, yes,” answered Viriana. “Avandoor is an ancient word meaning something like asylum. Don’t get me wrong, the food really is first rate. And I suppose they have a good time, in their own way. Most of them probably never even think about trying to escape. And that’s a good thing, because there is no escape. Even if they could get outside the castle, they’re in the middle of a vast ocean, hundreds of miles from the nearest land.”
“But how can they just keep eating and drinking forever, without ever, you know…”
“People exist in only in spiritual form on Kirilan,” answered Viriana. “You don’t have the same physical compulsions as you do here on Dis. Nor are there the same consequences. One can eat and drink constantly for years without ever getting completely full — or suffering a hangover. And before you ask: no, there are no women in Avandoor.”
“None?” asked Boric. “What of the women warriors of legend, such as Iliana the Huntress?”
“Oh, there are female warriors,” replied Viriana. “But women fight out of necessity, not bloodlust. They don’t find it difficult to adapt to a peaceful life on Kirilan.”
“Wow,” said Boric, trying to take in all this new information. For his part, he had had enough fighting and killing. Sitting next to Hollick the Goblin-Slayer for all eternity now sounded like the worst punishment he could imagine. He wouldn’t mind spending a few hundred years with Viriana, though.
“So then,” Boric started, “if people don’t have the same sort of compulsions on Kirilan, then I suppose they don’t, you know…”
“Oh, we do,” Viriana replied, smiling coyly. “Just not as a matter of compulsion. It’s more like pure recreation.”
“Oh,” said Boric. Kirilan was sounding better by the minute. “So I, um…that is, do you have plans for dinner?”
“It depends,” said Viriana. “Do you actually like mead?”
“Of course not,” said Boric. “Horrible stuff.”
“Good,” replied Viriana. “Get on the wyndbahr, Boric. We’re going for a ride.”
Acknowledgments
With thanks to Joel Bezaire, Colleen Diamond, Nicklaus Louis, Medeia Sharif, Michele Smith, Charity VanDeberg, and my lovely wife, Julia, for their support, comments, corrections, and suggestions.
About the Author
Robert Kroese’s sense of irony was honed growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan — home of the Amway Corporation and the Gerald R. Ford Museum, and the first city in the United States to fluoridate its water supply. In the second grade he wrote his first novel — the saga of Captain Bill and his spaceship, Thee Eagle. This turned out to be the high point of his academic career. After barely graduating from Calvin College in 1992 with a philosophy degree, he was fired from a variety of jobs before moving to California, where he stumbled into software development. As this job required neither punctuality nor a sense of direction, he excelled at it. In 2009 he called upon his extensive knowledge of useless information and love of explosions to write his first novel, Mercury Falls. Disenchanted was originally published as a Kindle Serial in November 2012.
This book was originally released in episodes as a Kindle Serial. Kindle Serials launched in 2012 as a new way to experience serialized books. Kindle Serials allow readers to enjoy the story as the author creates it, purchasing once and receiving all existing episodes immediately, followed by future episodes as they are published. To find out more about Kindle Serials and to see the current selection of Serials titles, visit www.amazon.com/kindleserials.
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