Gifts of Vorallon: 03 - Lord of Vengeance

by Thomas Cardin

  “I ask to be guardian of the ways between this universe and all others,” Lorace asked, addressing all the Old Gods present. “I wish to ward this universe against any other dangers from without. The Undead God is not vanquished, merely banished from the bounds of Vorallon’s realm.”

  “This is acceptable,” the Lady assented without pause. “You have already shown great ability for this task, we here agree, but only a full consensus among your brothers can bar one of us now present from entering. We would watch and help tend our child as he grows.”

  Lorace’s eyes widened, but he nodded acceptance of this condition; he felt his brothers do likewise. The entire universe is their child!

  The Lady gazed upon all of Lorace’s friends. “You have saved our offspring, for this we thank you. We have shared with you secrets and knowledge that we must entrust to your guardianship. You have earned this knowledge, but we ask that you maintain these mysteries without spreading them among the beings of this realm. To do so would disrupt the destinies of many. You witness a special event that only the parents of those chosen to serve as Wardens of Life have witnessed before. Will you stand in the stead of this man’s parents, my blessed Fara and Veladis, to watch him ascend?”

  Everyone nodded in silent assent. While the goddess directed her overwhelming gaze full upon them, they could scarce do otherwise. For in that moment, they saw not the tall perfect woman, but a myriad of worlds, all teaming with life in many forms.

  “Iris, who is most beloved of Lorace, step forward, my dear.” The Lady focused her full attention on the small young woman in her violet dress with little yellow flowers.

  Iris slid a hesitant step toward the Goddess of Destiny.

  The Lady smiled upon her. “In the fullness of your years, you will rejoin your beloved husband, as today my beloved man rejoins me.” She nodded toward Sir Rindal. “Never live in fear or remorse for who you used to be. Live in peace and love among your friends throughout your life. Your child will be a blessing to us all. When the time comes, you will pass on your legacy as the Voice of Vorallon to her. See that nothing, whatsoever, happens to disrupt that destiny. Outside of the people who stand with you now, the knowledge that Lorace is also Lord Chreen must be kept from all except your daughter. In time, the same oath I will ask of her. Do you swear to this?”

  Iris knelt to the rippled black stone, “I do, my Lady.”

  The Lady nodded, accepting her oath. She held out her arms, now draped with many folds of spangled black silk. “This legacy is for your daughter, it is her inheritance and her due. Keep it close to her while she is young.”

  Iris accepted the folds of silk cloth with her mouth open wide. She looked toward Lorace, but he could only shrug. She is the weaver of destinies.

  The Lady spread her arms wide. “To the rest of you, I ask that you remember this man lovingly as Lorace, and pray to him as such in his honor, but do not worship him as Lord Chreen or serve him openly as such.” She turned her awareness upon Tornin. “This includes you who are his chosen paladin. Sir Tornin, I knight you as such, but you may only serve him as Lorace, worshipping him openly as Lord Chreen is forbidden to the pure. He will be the Lord of Vengeance. Rage, hatred, and fear will be his domain. He shall be known for his tasks and lordship over corruption, not as the loving man and brave warrior you know him to be. He will need your help in the destiny he has chosen.” She returned to her gaze to address all before her. “The help each of you are uniquely gifted to provide.”

  Tornin, Oen, and the rest bowed to her words and agreed.

  “He accepts this role because he knows it must be performed, it is his destined task,” she continued. “Never doubt his love for you—it is a pure light that we see clearly. Say your farewells to him now for his awareness must ascend to every living world of this universe. In this brief time you have beheld him as a mortal man, he asked that you call him only Lorace and to this we agree. You will be able to pray to him as such and live to feel his everlasting embrace as the living man he is now, and will forever be, tied to the will and life of this universe.”

  She stepped back to stand among the other half-seen presences of the Old Gods, each a sentient universe unto themselves, gifted with life and awareness.

  Lorace’s dearest friends stood before him a moment, uncertain, hesitant to move after the declarations of the Lady. He opened his arms to them and smiled.

  Falraan embraced him in a crushing hug before anyone else could move. “I have Iris’s permission to hug you when you have performed admirably, and in this you have. I will seek your side often, Lorace, you have brought the man I love safely back to me, and ensured that the world will endure for us.

  He held her by her mailed shoulders, “Will you do something for me, Falraan?”

  She bowed her red crowned head. “Of course, I will look after her for you, she will never want for friendship and love, should your embrace ever become unavailable.”

  “I know—this is something more beyond that, however,” Lorace said. “When we are gone from this place and all are safely removed, I would ask that you melt everything here to ash, let nothing stand here as a monument to pain and death. Ousenar will lay barren for ages, but when life does return, let it not find a hint of this accursed place.”

  She nodded sharply and withdrew. “Nothing would serve me better.”

  Oen stepped forward to embrace him. “You know I wanted to become your High Priest,” the white robed man said. “I have come to believe in you so strongly, though I met you less than half a moon ago. You are the champion Vorallon needed; the one who would fight when others could not or would not.”

  Lorace placed his hands on Oen’s shoulders. “Rejoice in the arms of my brother Lord Aran. That he met this struggle without leading armies or wielding a weapon does not mean he did not fight. Since his ascendance he has fought, and continues to fight, a battle for the spirits of the pure. He does this with love and the aid of all the men and women of Halversome who hold to the light. I only hope you will pray to me as your friend and companion. I value your counsel in all things, and that will not wane with the destiny now before me. Never shall any of you take up the cause of Lord Chreen. I will fulfill his role for the conflict that Vorallon and his brothers find warmth in. I expect you to always fight against the will of Chreen, as strongly as you fought against his namesake here today.”

  “This is going to be very confusing, you know that?” Oen said. “You ask me to fight you and love you at the same time.”

  “It is what the Voice of Vorallon said to us so eloquently, is it not? Return to Halversome and find a woman to share your love with, bless this world with more of the life it so sorely needs.” Lorace hugged the priest close before releasing him.

  Tornin stepped before him. The young man’s face conflicted between a smile and a frown.

  “Sir Tornin, you are now, be strong in that for that title comes to you from the Lady herself,” Lorace consoled him.

  “I so desired to raise my sword in your name,” Sir Tornin said.

  “You have!” Lorace crowed. “Your deeds here were just the beginning. You are the paladin of Lord Lorace. Cry it proudly. I charge you with the guardianship of my wife and daughter and the protection of Halversome and her people—there is no greater duty with which I can charge you. Live within Aran’s love, and know that I shine in that light as well.”

  Tornin knelt with his sword before him, eager to accept Lorace’s charge.

  “I do what I must for the life and well-being of Vorallon,” Lorace continued. “And the guise of Lord Chreen may not be seen for years to come. The world must repopulate before there can be more war and strife. I believe Vorallon has had his fill for many more dances around the sun. He is content to live with just the warmth of those who love, for now. You bear the spirit of one he loves more than any other, his first champion, Elena.”

  Lorace saluted the young paladin with a fist to his chest. “Be ever watchful, however, Lord Chreen may find a way
to throw something toward Halversome at any time.”

  “When he does, I shall be ready.” Sir Tornin squared his shoulders and saluted before withdrawing into Falraan’s arms.

  Hethal and Moyan came before him next. Hethal bounced on the balls of his feet, his face split in a wide grin. “Of all the possible outcomes this was the greatest of them. You unerringly followed the best path, and made the best choices to serve your destiny. You saved us all.”

  “All of you saved me,” Lorace replied. “Give yourselves the honor for saving Vorallon. It would not have been possible without either one of you.”

  Moyan clasped his hand. “Thank you, Lorace. Blessing us with a new life of love and happiness is a miracle we will spend our lives earning. I aim to do as you told Oen, return to Halversome and find myself a fine woman with which to raise many children. If he is not quick enough, I may steal the best one away from him.”

  “In that he will give you quite a contest,” Lorace said with a chuckle. “It is a battle he has fought before.”

  The brothers made way for Lehan and Micah to stand before him.

  Lorace dropped to one knee before the child. “Micah, I owe you a great deal for saving all that you could. I am sorry you have to give the game to your father this round.”

  Micah’s laugh rang through the chamber. “No, I did win that round. Father already knew of my gift, he asked Hethal of my role this day when my name came up in Hethal’s vision. My sister assures me that that is a victory.”

  “I cannot argue the truth of that,” Lehan said with a sharp bow to his son before turning back to Lorace. “We will do our part to watch over your wife and daughter. They will certainly never want for female companions around my home.”

  “Thank you, Lehan,” he said before dropping his voice to a whisper. “She likes dresses a great deal. If you should ever find her sad, please remind Narlana of that for me.”

  “Gladly, friend Lorace,” Lehan replied. “Hethal and I are not done discussing the truth of what is to come for us all. We will remember your actions as the man you are now above all else.”

  Adwa-Ki and Prince Wralka hung back, hesitating from joining the procession. Lorace strode up to them with his hands open, displaying the circles of his symbol. “United with men, your people faced the end of all things today and prevailed. In time to come, I will represent a side of life that Vorallon needs to thrive: fear, hatred, and anger. These are buried within me, you have seen them, and you know my spirit is that of the two-who-are-one. But know this as well, I will always be fighting to prevent the threat of anything like this from ever occurring again.”

  The elven matron smiled and traced his cheek with one fine finger while Prince Wralka’s hands knotted and tightened on the haft of his hammer.

  The dwarf coughed. “Thank you for a great battle, my friend. My people will remember you as the finest hero for whom we have ever forged the blessed godstone. None shall know you among my people as this Lord Chreen, be confident of that, but what of this shall we carve in the hall of heroes?”

  Lorace looked deep within his tranquility until he could hear the call of the living spirit of the world, and his answer was clear. “Carve only what Vorallon bids. Those of you now in this room may know that I survived my destiny, but Vorallon shall show the artist how I sacrificed myself so that he could be healed and endure.”

  “It shall be so,” Prince Wralka said with a bow, his hands relaxing. “Ralli himself will be proud to carve the story of his adopted son. He deserves the honor.”

  “Your people are a blessing to Vorallon,” Lorace said with a smile. “He and I will watch over you carefully. As Lord Chreen, I expect you to meet my agents in glorious battle before your days reach their fullest.”

  Wralka’s gaze turned to steel. “Aye, that will be a great battle indeed. You owe me that; I barely got to swing my hammer today.”

  Adwa-Ki bowed with her typical grace despite the fine-wrought chain armor she wore. “We look forward to aiding in the sowing of new life. My people will travel far and wide to be Vorallon’s shepherds.”

  Lorace reached out and drew her up straight. “Neither he or I could ask more of you. Be wary, it is out there, far from the Keth, that you may meet some of Lord Chreen’s followers. They will not know me as you do. One other thing to be wary of is the blight of undeath—it is not fully eradicated, some of it has hidden away like it did for ages within the stone of this castle. If it should get hold of any of your people I fear what the results may be.”

  “We will be wary, Lorace.” she retreated with a flash of sunshine in her eyes.

  Sir Rindal stepped forward, saluting him with Brakke Zahn. “You have led me on quite an adventure throughout your life, Lorace.”

  The paladin had been saying his farewells to his companions while the Lady stood aside, but now Lorace clasped his hand. “Is this what you wish, to go with the Lady beyond the stars?”

  “More than anything,” Sir Rindal assured him. “I have loved her all my life, for many long forgotten lifetimes. I will be with her for a timeless while before she returns me to a world where I am needed. She shared this fact with me when she picked me up in her arms. Someday I may even return to this world to fight against Lord Chreen if he should ever fail to maintain his end of the balance. I do not look forward to such a day.”

  “May we never meet as foes,” Lorace agreed solemnly. “Will you remember your past lifetime here if you do?”

  “She swears to me never to withhold the memory of my past lives again,” the paladin said with a grin. “I shall retain my sword as well, we have become close.”

  “Brakke Zahn is the perfect extension of your will. Be safe, my friend.”

  The paladin walked over to take the hand of the Lady and become another dim figure, as indistinct to Vorallon’s reality as the Old Gods.

  Iris. She had passed the cloth of stars to Falraan and now stood alone before him. He strode forward, each step striking a chord in his heart, both sad and joyful. She paused for a moment before slipping into his outstretched arms. He held her close for many more beats of his heart. His lips bent down over the crown of her hair while she wept into his chest.

  “I do not have anything to say,” she said at last. “I just want to hold you for as long as I may.”

  “I will be helping life blossom for many lifetimes, you know this?” Lorace whispered through a constricted throat. “The land needs to repopulate before strife and corruption can keep their end of the balance. Your life and that of our daughter’s may well be full of years before you ever need see an act of Lord Chreen.”

  “Yes, I am glad of it,” Iris said. “I would rather not know of your actions during the course of your official tasks. Your daughter and I will always know you and love you as the man you are now.”

  “Do me a favor, please, Iris?” Lorace asked.

  “I will do anything for you, my love,” she said, looking up into his eyes and drawing him into the depths of her own.

  “Take your books and scrolls with you when you leave this place,” Lorace begged. “They gave you a release from fear in your past life and they will give your hungry mind happiness going forward. I want you to continue your studies into the universe. No other among men knows even a glimmer of what you have already seen.”

  Iris’s emerald gaze clouded with concern. “Did not the Lady just forbid this?”

  Lorace embraced her with his spirit. “You are my wife. I do not ask that you teach others this knowledge, but I think the day will come when it shall not be forbidden to know what the stars are, that there are other worlds, other universes. Vorallon wants to share his warmth with his beloved sparks, that warmth is the magic that powers your spells. I want you and my daughter to be the very best at its manipulations. Bend your wonderful mind toward bringing awareness to Vorallon’s brothers.”

  “I suppose, since I am the Voice of Vorallon after all,” Iris said with a sly upturn of her lip. “I will do all that I can.”

/>   His brothers, Jorune and Bartalus, now stood behind Iris, their youthful forms beaming happiness. It is time.

  “Call out to me,” Lorace asked her with a tear in his eye. “I will come to you, always.”

  “I love you, Lorace,” she said with a last tight squeeze.

  Lorace bent down to her upturned face and kissed her deeply, overlaying his spirit with hers. He bolstered her with his tranquility while their kiss endured. When he released her, she sighed and stepped back into the waiting arms of Falraan and Tornin. He looked upon his friends again, their eyes widening as the Old Gods began to murmur a low song. A deep thrum of voices that reached into his being and set him to vibrate, like the striking of a great bell.

  “Close your eyes, brother,” Bartalus said.

  He shut his eyes tight as the song scaled beyond his ears, igniting the strength within him. The energy he had gathered to aid in his own ascendance flowed outward. His solidity unfolded like a blossoming flower spreading its petals wide, each to blossom again in turn.

  “What must I do?” he asked, his voice ringing like a chorus in his ears.

  “Use your sight, see everything,” Jorune said as the Old Gods’ song continued, flowing into both his tranquility and his rage. “Send your awareness everywhere.”

  “You are already Lorace and Lord Chreen,” Bartalus said, his voice growing faint as the music transcended all audibility in a crescendo of planets and stars in motion. “You have been both since the Ritual of the Forge gave you the chain. Wield it well, brother. Your ascendance will be complete when you open your eyes upon every living world of this universe.”

  Here ends the story of Lorace the Chain before his ascendance.

  EPILOGUE

  First Day of the Moon of the Lady

  -in Ousenar

  In the night, Andrigar’s fever had receded, and then his body had cooled. Without so much as a shudder, his thin pulse stilled and his breathing stopped while Marek had an ear pressed to his chest. He sat next to the body throughout the remainder of the night. As the dawn stars glimmered on the horizon, Marek laid his hand on his captain’s head, no warmer than the frigid air.