by Brian Murray
The burial was also a private affair, for the family and close friends only. When the tomb was sealed, a rope railing was erected around it and citizens were let in so they could pass by the tomb to pay their final respects, and again they threw flowers. By the end of the day, the mound of assorted, beautiful flowers of many colours had grown so much, the grey tomb underneath could not be seen. During the next few days, the whole Kingdom mourned the loss of its king and for a short time the city, the Kingdom fell silent.
***
Meanwhile, Gan-Goran rested in bed, his strength growing. As the days passed, his mind cleared, his thoughts crystallised, and he slowly pieced together his mental puzzle. He managed to get out of bed without being chastised by his hostess and this he thought was a good sign. One morning he rose early, before Cara, and made her breakfast. To his surprise, the woman complained about his ill health but thanked him for the meal. During the meal, Gan-Goran had his first meaningful conversation with Cara.
“You said I left with Thade and Dax.”
“Aye, you did.”
“But I am here and I did not leave. I don’t understand.”
“Well, you’re the magic-master, you should be the one to answer that question. Let’s say you stayed here. Why would you have done that?”
“Well,” thought Gan-Goran aloud. “I think I was tricked by the foulest deeds.”
“What do you mean?” asked Cara, furrowing her brow.
“I decided to travel the Paths of Times to get some clues about what we faced. Things were coming together but the answer remained just out of my reach, my knowledge lacking. So I travelled deeper along the Paths . . . No, I went to meet someone. That’s the last thing I remember. My spirit must have been captured by dark forces and held in bonds, or thrown into the Mists of Time—I am not sure. But in the meantime, someone or something must have replaced me here.”
Cara stared at the old man. She was happy with his recovery as his colour had improved and he had gained weight. Yet something bothered her.
“I’m a simple woman, Gan, but are you telling me my men went out there led by a charlatan?”
“If what you say is true and my image travelled with them, then yes, they’re travelling with an impostor.”
This realisation did not sit well with Cara, knowing that her two men were travelling the Kingdom and beyond with an impostor, but she did not let her concerns be known. The old man needed to fully regain his strength without the burden of her worries bothering him.
“Where did they go?” he asked.
“You . . . I mean Dax, Thade, Gammel, and Tanas travelled to Evlon, whilst Rowet, Baron Chelmsnor, and the others went to Teldor.”
Gan-Goran thought for a while. “Why did they split up?”
“Because of what you told them!” snapped Cara irritably.
“What was that? I was not here, remember,” said Gan-Goran innocently.
Cara took a deep calming breath. “You—or your impostor—told them about some relics and a Dark One or some such nonsense.”
Gan-Goran’s mouth fell open with shock. “I must go and find them.”
“You’re in no state to travel outside the house, least of all to go alone and find them. And where will you go? They could be anywhere; they left months ago.”
“I must do something, they’re in great danger,” pleaded the old man, rising from his chair.
“Danger, you say. Well, you’ll be of no use to them trying to travel in your state. You have just broken a fever and must regain all your strength.”
Even though Gan-Goran wanted to leave, he listened to Cara, and remained at Thade’s home to recover. What worried the old man most was the news the men were told about the Dark One. What else had they been told or more importantly, not told? He tried to decipher the clues, but no answers emerged in his trained mind. The more he thought about the problem the more confused he became, creating new questions when what he wanted were answers. Where did they go and what are they doing? What does this have to do with the Dark One? What evil lies in wait for them? Gan-Goran kept his thoughts to himself. He saw the mention of danger, together with Thade and Dax, worried Cara. He watched her spend great deal of time peering out of the windows and doors towards the distant hills. He knew she was looking for them. The old man hoped the awaited sight would soon arrive.
***
The column of black-clad warriors arrived at the Grey Castle. Halfway down the convoy was a black carriage, with three silver-armoured warriors riding massive stallions. They passed through the outer gates, moving slowly through the deserted army camp, then entered the inner gate and crossed the open courtyard to the keep.
Dismounting at the keep, the three warriors clad in silver escorted the Darklord into the building. In a small windowless room, adjacent to a hall, the four men sat down and the warriors removed weapons and cloaks.
“We need to be prepared for his arrival,” said the Darklord, placing a leather pouch on the table.
“I will see to everything,” said Malice.
“What about him? He was there in Rhamagabora,” snarled Chaos vehemently, his red eyes aglow with anger. He removed his helm and slammed it down on a wooden table.
“Chaos, I feel your anger, but everything we do is for the arrival of our master,” said the Darklord softly, trying to calm the warrior.
“That I know, but I could have defeated him, he was ripe for taking,” hissed Chaos, combing his fingers through his white hair.
“We still need him,” added Malice, removing his helm.
“Chaos, the rite needs to be completed. The one who sent our master back to his realm must spill innocent blood when the time is right. At Rhamagabora the time was not right and so we were not able to complete the rite,” stated the Darklord.
“But we had all the pieces,” barked Chaos angrily, his temper simmering.
“That’s true, but not at the right time. The enchantment was not cast. You will have your chance, but do not wish it,” explained the Darklord patiently, hiding his fear of the warrior.
“Are you saying that I cannot defeat him?”
“He is the master’s champion,” said Malice softly.
“He was, don’t you mean?” growled Chaos.
“No, I said it right, he is the master’s champion until he is defeated. It will take a great warrior to defeat him.”
“And I am that warrior,” snarled Chaos, rising to his feet, his red eyes blazing.
He stared at his brethren. Like him, both warriors had pallid grey skin and long white hair cropped high over the ears. Chaos had one noticeable difference—a white welt running down the right side of his face. At the end of the Dark Wars over two thousand years ago, at Rhamagabora, their fallen brother had defeated him, scarring Chaos. From that day on, Chaos had sought revenge—that was all he wanted.
The Darklord raised his arm, exposing his skeletal ashen-grey hand. “Chaos, when the master is here you will have a chance to prove your skill, but only once he returns.”
Chaos bowed his head, taking long calming breaths. “I am sorry for my outburst. My anger, my need for revenge is strong. Of course, you’re right, the return of our master is of utmost importance and my desires will wait.”
The Darklord’s smile was hidden in the shadow of his deep, black hood. “Let us get everything ready and we will rule this realm. Then we can feed our needs.”
The three warriors departed from the room, leaving the Darklord alone. He had much to prepare and hoped the fallen one would not disappoint. He lifted the pouch containing the remains of the Dark One’s hand and smiled, feeling the evil power it emitted.
“It is time for you to walk in our realm once again. It is time for Dark Times to return.” The Darklord chuckled. It was a rasping sound full of wickedness.
***
During the days following King Logan’s funeral, Teldor slowly returned to normal. The army, starting with the foot soldiers, departed from the city, leaving only the axe-wielders, heav
y cavalry, and Royal Lancers. The latter two forces remained camped outside the city with their horses, while the light cavalry marched the Horde north and east. Most of the Rhaurns among the Horde swore alliance to the crown and were resettled, with many joining the army. The men from Rafftonia were escorted north, back to their own lands.
For Thade, Dax, and Tanas, normality became living between the palace and Rayth’s tavern. Every day they accompanied Zane to the tavern around dusk and returned to the palace at dawn. The young man felt the pressure of looking after his lover during her time of need. Even though he was king, he did not delegate his other responsibilities; they were his responsibilities and he refused to shirk them. He loved Aurillia deeply and would not want to be anywhere else. So during the day, he ran the Kingdom from the palace and at night he ran his life from Rayth’s bedroom, keeping vigil over the former axe-wielder. Each night the woman of his dreams would fall asleep on his lap and he would watch Rayth, catching only a few hours’ sleep.
Over the days, Rayth’s colour slowly improved, his breathing evened, but there was still no sign of him waking.
***
Rayth had spent the last week with his wife in Paradise. Given leave by the Divine One, he lived again with his beautiful wife in the rolling hills around Teldor. He was happy and content with his beloved and did not leave her side for a moment. But one evening as the sun ducked below the horizon in the west, the Divine One appeared. He faced the dreaded conversation he had tried to avoid.
“It’s time,” said the Divine One, her voice musical and sweet.
“But . . . ” started Rayth softly, holding his wife close.
It was Aurillia, his wife who explained, “Rayth, my love, it is time for you to re-join the living. You must return. Each night our child worries and frets over your body.”
Rayth looked at the Divine One, who nodded. Before the former axe-wielder, an image appeared. He immediately recognised his bedroom in his tavern. Staring at the scene, tears filled his eyes. Sitting in the chair he recognised Zane sleeping and next to his body, on the blankets lay Aurillia, his adopted daughter. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled into his broad chest, with one of her hands resting on his stubble-covered cheek. Tears of pride and happiness silently rolled down his cheek. He looked over at his wife, who just nodded at him. His gaze returned to the scene in his room. Zane woke up, knelt by the bed, and gently stroked Aurillia’s hair.
“Please Rayth, please wake. You’re slowly killing your girl. I know you can hear me, please come back,” whispered the young man, his voice breaking with emotion.
The man’s concern touched Rayth.
“My love, it is time for you to return,” said Rayth’s wife.
“But I want to be with you.”
“Our time for eternity together will come. But it’s time to look after those who love you back at home. You know I’ll be here waiting for you. I will never be far away, my love, but now it is time. Your body needs its soul to survive and you have to be there for your strength to come back.”
“I’ll miss you, my love,” said Rayth, hugging his wife close, tears flowing freely.
“I’ll miss you, my love, but you must go.”
Rayth took a deep breath, kissed his wife goodbye, then announced, “I will come back.”
Aurillia just nodded, smiling at her husband. Stepping toward the Divine One, Rayth smiled and closed his eyes.
“I’m ready,” he said, turning to look at his wife. Her image slowly faded until it was but a sweet memory . . .
***
Rayth felt the surge of pain rake through his body and he grunted. He felt weak as a new-born babe, but managed to open his eyes. With great effort, he tightened the hug around his daughter and a smile crept onto his face, though mixed with his joy were tears of sorrow. Sleepily, Aurillia opened her eyes and smiled at her father.
“You came home, Dad.”
Rayth turned his head to face his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “I am back, child,” he whispered hoarsely.
“How are you feeling, Rayth?” asked Zane, even though the answer was obvious.
Aurillia nuzzled into her father’s chest, thinking it was another dream, but Zane’s voice dragged her from her dreamy doze.
“Father!” she screamed, sitting up.
From outside came the pounding of footsteps up the stairs. The door flew open and Dax’s massive frame filled the doorframe.
“Father,” said Aurillia softly, stroking Rayth’s cheek with her hand.
“I’m back, my child,” repeated Rayth and he closed his eyes to sleep.
Tears of joy rolled down Aurillia’s cheek. She looked at Zane who smiled at her.
In the doorway, Dax grinned broadly and closed the door silently, leaving the two to their emotions. Walking downstairs, he entered the common room where Emyra, Thade, and Tanas had been awakened by the shouts. They all looked at him with questioning eyes, but none would ask.
“What?” asked Tanas, “what’s happened?”
Dax nodded. “The old fool lives,” he said, his voice full of admiration and relief. The friends cheered and embraced each other.
***
Over the next few days, the innkeeper regained his strength and on the fifth day he left his bed, to the dismay of the healer.
“You will rip your stitches,” pleaded the old man, as if talking to a child.
“If I stay in that damn bed for another moment, I will die from boredom. Now help me dress,” croaked Rayth, grunting as he swung his legs from the bed.
Only with the healer’s help did he manage to make it down the stairs. Rayth quickly realised how much of his strength he had lost, but he knew it would come back. Reaching the kitchen, he smiled at his daughter, who glared at him.
“What are you doing up?” she snapped.
“Now, don’t you start, I want to see my tavern and stretch my legs,” he replied, sitting cautiously down on the nearest chair.
Aurillia smiled. She knew better than to argue with her father. He was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted something. She made him some honey-sweetened tisane, toasted two thick slices of gritty bread, and sat opposite him. His face looked gaunt, but it would fill out with some good feeding, thought the young woman. After finishing his tisane and toasted bread, the former warrior rose and made his way slowly back to bed. Aurillia knew better than to help him; a man of pride, he would get there himself.
When he reached his bed, Rayth fell asleep in minutes, exhausted from the effort of walking up the stairs.
The next evening Zane, Dax, Thade, and Tanas arrived to find Rayth sitting by the hearth in the common room with a blanket wrapped around his broad shoulders. He had just finished his evening meal and sipped tisane from a thick clay mug.
They entered the room and there were smiles and jests all around. Rayth started to rise but Aurillia told him in no uncertain terms to remain seated. The men chatted for hours and Rayth enjoyed their company. They talked fondly of old times and the future. Well into the night, the three warriors, left Zane alone in the room with Rayth. Even in his weakened condition, Zane was wary of the innkeeper as he sat opposite him. Zane had decided that today would be the day he would ask the man for his daughter’s hand.
“Rayth,” said Zane softly.
“Before you start, I would like to thank you for looking after my Aurillia.”
Zane smiled and nodded. “It’s my duty.”
“No, it is not, but I thank you. Now you wanted to talk to me so spit it out quickly before I fall asleep.”
“It concerns Aurillia,” said Zane simply, his voice just above a whisper.
“Ah,” replied Rayth, rising from his chair and moving behind the bar. He returned carrying a large double-headed battle-axe. With a grunt of effort, he swung the axe and crashed it down, embedding the blade into a thick wooden table.
“Now if I don’t hear what I want to hear, this will be used. I want the right thing done by my daughter. What a
re your intentions?”
In the kitchen, Dax heard the crash. He was about to walk into the common room but Aurillia stopped him with a smile, and shook her head.
“Father always wanted to do this—have a talk with a man who wants my hand. Bring out his damn axe and scare the hell out of them. If they can survive his wrath, then they’re worthy,” she explained, rolling her eyes.
Dax smiled; he knew it was something he would do himself. At the table, both Thade and Tanas giggled like children.
“I have to remember this,” said Thade happily.
“Aye, and remember you have to face the Chosen,” added Tanas, smiling.
That shut Thade up and Dax started to laugh. “So do you in a manner of speaking,” muttered Thade miserably.
In the common room, Zane stared wide-eyed at the battle-axe embedded in the table. He looked up slowly and saw rage in the innkeeper’s eyes. Zane’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Well, spit it out boy, what do you want with my daughter?”
“I want to . . . ”
“Yes, you want to what?”
Zane stared at the axe in the table, then smiled at the older man.
“Don’t smile at me, boy. Speak,” said Rayth, leaning forward on the table that groaned under the weight.
“I want to marry your daughter.”
“And what have you got to offer my child?”
The question shook Zane. He had never thought about it before. He replied simply, “A kingdom.”
“That’s not enough!” countered Rayth menacingly.
“What do you want to hear?” roared Zane, surging to his feet. “I love your daughter more than life itself. I intend to marry her and make her my queen. Now, if you’re going to use that damn axe you’d better be quick, old man,” he added with a sneering smile that lacked any malice.
