Chapter IV:
Envy to Madness
The Lady Comes to Thasbond
Lord Ghelhurn's folly was not ended in his neglect of the capitol's defenses. When the news finally reached his ears that they had been fooled, and that Thasbond in fact was now taken by the Merkata, he did not do as he ought to have done. He ought to have sought council with the northern allies of the Vestri and Harz Nobles in Nanhur and Meldomnon. But, blinded by his own self-confidence and delusions of heroism, he marched to the gates of Thasbond with the army of Thasbond and whomever he could gather from the Lake country.
He encamped on the foothills of Fhuhar and lay siege to the city. He was confident that the entire Merkata army must be holed up in the city and that they would be scared and desperate and beyond help. But when he had been camped for only two days he heard the sounds of trumpets coming from the east. A great force of Merkata warriors, led by Oanor and Janik, marched against his flank. His men were caught between the gates of Thasbond and the approaching Merkata warriors. The dilemma Lord Ghelhurn now faced was the choice between turning to combat the newly arrived warriors and exposing his army to danger from Thasbond itself, or retreating back to Polin without even challenging the Merkata. In the end he chose to do both; he tried to fight the Merkata, and when Thasbond's gates opened and the armies of Ason emptied into the foothills to crush his army he attempted to retreat. Ason and Oanor chased them back to the very walls of Polin, where the better part of them were slain, including the foolhardy Lord Ghelhurn himself.
It was now clear to the Vestri that the age of the Nanthor was over and a new age of the Merkata was poised to begin. Some cities began to surrender themselves to the Merkata. Natham, who now ruled over them, accepted their loyalties gladly, though Skatlor and Agnoril were openly displeased.
Whately had been found in one of the less dark and terrible dungeons of Thasbond. He was lean and he looked much older, but he was generally well. A few weeks in the sunlight, breathing the open air, brought him back to his full health. He took his place at the side of the Monster and helped reorder the city. All those who wished to leave Thasbond were allowed to go south to the Lake country. Those who did not were required to swear all manner of oaths, calling the very judgment of the Astral gods upon their heads if they betrayed their new masters.
On the first day of the new year, the Lady Malia announced that she herself would be coming to the city. The evening before her arrival, Whately and the Monster spoke as they walked along the top of the southern wall of the Iron Palace. It was not the first time they had spoken, but it was the first time either of them had mentioned this eventuality.
'You have done very well, Natham,' Whately impressed upon him. 'You have fought with all your heart, yet you have not forgotten mercy. I have heard about all of the letters you sent to the Harz. You have been a very foolish strategist in some ways.' Whately laughed and shook his head, 'But you have been a very GOOD strategist.'
'What strategy I know I have learned from you,' he said. 'For the most part I have been relying on the stars, the spirits, and my own strength.'
'You still speak with ghosts?' Whately said with a sigh. 'I had hoped it would pass away with your childhood. But what is to be done? You are no longer a child.'
'And I am no longer in doubt,' Natham said confidently. 'It was just such a spirit that led us to the secret caverns beneath Thasbond.'
'You led the whole army of the Merkata according to the words of a specter?' Whately laughed.
'Yes,' Natham said, 'And let that put an end to your doubts. For you know as well as I that such a thing is impossible by natural powers.'
Whately nodded, 'Then I am sorry that I ever doubted you.' He shook his head and then laughed, 'The Merkata followed a ghost through the secret tunnels? Did they know of the one whom you were following?'
'They had no idea,' Natham chuckled.
There was a bit of a pause. Both of them leaned their arms against the battlements on the wall, looking out over the city.
Finally Natham spoke, 'The spirit tells us that our destiny lies in the west, beyond Olger.'
Whately frowned. 'You mean, in Olgrost? In Marin's country?'
'Perhaps,' Natham said. 'At any rate, I think you know as well as I do that we cannot stay in Vestron much longer. The queen desires power. In us she has seen such a power as she did not imagine existed. In you, the power of a cunning and skillful mind, in me she has seen the lesser sort of power. But nonetheless she will desire to possess it.'
'Lesser in only some respects,' Whately encouraged him. 'But history teaches us that there are many who needed such force but had only wisdom and many who had great power but needed wisdom. The world itself could not exist without power, but what would the world be without wisdom? And again, if there was only wisdom, there would be no power, and therefore there would be no world. Do not disparage your gifts.'
There was a slight pause and then Whately added, 'Also, I might add that you are in no wise lacking in wisdom.'
'You have always been more kind to me than I deserve,' Natham said.
'There are perhaps none in this world who deserve kindness,' Whately responded, 'Any more than he deserves life and luxury. Who can demand these things? Everything is a gift, whether it is good or evil. Do not question it when it is good.'
Natham nodded and then changed the subject back to the issue of the Lady's arrival. 'The Lady of the Merkata will not suffer a power to subside in Vestron that she cannot control. If we do not bow the neck to the Merkata clan by oath and by rite, we will find ourselves locked so deep beneath the citadel of Thasbond that the very fires of hell will nip and lick at our ankles.'
'I have feared this for some time,' Whately affirmed, 'Especially as I sat in the darkness with none but that stupid Gedda for company. The mind of the Merkata has always been on revenge and retribution. The whole while we were imprisoned he bellowed out curses and oaths against the Harz Nobles.'
'We cannot stay among such people,' Natham said. 'If we do not leave them, they will betray us both.'
'That very well may be the case,' Whately sighed. He laughed suddenly, 'She really is quite beautiful, don't you think?'
'Indeed,' Natham said, turning toward his master. 'The spirit, Duri as he calls himself, heard Agnoril and the devil Skatlor planning how they would 'deal with the outsiders'.'
'These spirits of yours are beginning to sound very useful,' Whately said. 'Is this Duri the same as brought you through the caverns of flame, and to victory?'
'The very same,' Natham added.
'Is this Duri going to lead us into Olger and into the hands of the Ohhari?'
'He says that the blessing of the Spirit of those woods will rest upon us, so long as we aid the Merkata no further than the taking of Thasbond.'
'What will become of the Merkata, the Harz and the Vestri?' Whately asked.
'That will be for them to decide themselves. We have not the power to rule over them all, nor would they suffer us to rule them. You have given much to the Merkata, and so have I. Yet you know in your heart, even as I do, that the Merkata will not honor our services except by envy and betrayal.'
'Then we must leave this land at once, even before the Lady arrives.'
'That would be the wisest course.'
'Still, it is hard to have labored and suffered for so long without seeing the end results.'
'With these people,' Natham sighed, 'I would not want to see the end.'
Their decision was wise, but it was made about a minute or two too late. They had determined to leave Thasbond at once, and make their way to the west toward Olger and beyond. They gathered a few things that they felt they would need and loaded them into a wagon, which they sent ahead of them to Olgalver, which had since pledged its loyalty to the Merkata. Among these things were the old maps of Lord Whately, which Natham had brought away when he left their farm, and the Shield Admunth, which was given to him by Lord Vullcarin.
Their plans and pr
eparations were set in place without delay, but it was already too late. That very day, even as they talked on the southern wall, a messenger had arrived from the Lady of the Merkata. He spoke his words before Skatlor, Oanor, Agnoril and Ason. He told them:
'Thus speaks the Lady of the Merkata, Queen over all Vestron, from the Ragnon sands to the snowy peaks of the Frozen Mountains:
'My sons and my servants, you have all fought very bravely and nobly. But there are among you some that would not serve their lady with all their hearts. These are no better than traitors. They pretend to do well to the Clan, but in their hearts they have another master. Justice they call it, mercy they call it, but it is all just another word for deceit. With their mouths they speak of high and noble ideas, but their swords will be to our backs if we do not put ourselves on guard.
'Shall the power and rule of the Merkata pass on to strangers? Shall the glory of Vestri be shared with our ancient foes, as these traitors wish? Who will repay the Lord Hothnon and the people of Meldomnon for their lies? Who will punish Nanhur for its ancient sins? You all know that these foul traitors will not lift a finger against them. They would have us make league with them, and forge a new Merkata and a new Vestron. But the Merkata Clan is as old as the sand itself. Is not a new Merkata Clan – a different Merkata Clan - not a Merkata Clan at all? It would be a clan of Knarse poets and monsters? Monsters that have strong arms, but weak stomachs. Men who will not hunt and kill their enemies, but beg them for treaties and sue for peace when they ought to sue for blood.
'You know what they will do. They will leave Meldomnon with its traitors and Nanhur with its liars unscathed and unchastized. Such a thing must not be allowed to occur. The Merkata are mighty and strong, and we have taken the ancient realm for ourselves. Do not suffer these pretenders to rule over you. Cast them in the deepest dungeon; do not allow them to lift their voices against the Merkata or to give any further command to my people. In giving mercy to our enemies they have already betrayed us. They have bought the lives of those they spared with their own blood.'
Though it would never have occurred to Agnoril to disobey his Queen, the truth is that he really had changed. He learned to admire the Lord Whately while he commanded the Merkata armies. He had even begun to feel sympathetic toward his enemies. He also could not help but see the same virtues in the Monster who had almost single handedly led them to this great victory. The result of this change was not that Agnoril would do what he knew to be right, but that he would know to be wrong that which he did. With a heavy heart he armed himself, Skatlor and almost a hundred Merkata warriors and marched to the western gates of the city.
Had Whately and Natham come to the gates of the city two minutes earlier, they would not have been discovered, and they would have passed beyond the grasp and ken of the Merkata forever. But as it was, they found themselves surrounded by armed men.
'What is the meaning of this?' Whately asked in anger. 'Have we not given enough to the Merkata? Have we not proved ourselves? Have we not led you to victory over your enemies?'
Agnoril came to the front. 'I am ordered by the Lady to place you under arrest. We cannot suffer you to leave this city alive.' His heart sank to his stomach as he spoke.
Whately shook his head. Natham clenched his teeth.
Skatlor approached from behind Agnoril with heavy chains in his hand.
'This moment has been too long in coming for you, has it not?' Natham said in a cold voice. Skatlor said nothing. He locked one of the fetters around Natham's right arm. 'I would not attempt to put that on the left arm,' Natham said with almost a laugh. 'I cannot always control that one.'
'You know as well as I that you cannot escape,' Skatlor taunted. Beast and Devil though you are, you cannot best all the lords of the Merkata and a hundred men besides.'
'I might know that fully,' Natham said, still concealing a laugh, 'But there is half of me that is not so sure.'
Skatlor ignored his puzzling words and went to take Natham's other hand into his own. A roar seemed to rise from somewhere beneath the Monster's cloak and in an instant the powerful and gnarled left arm of Natham had knocked him to the ground. The warriors charged forward. But long before they came close to him he had lifted Skatlor from the ground by the throat. Whately himself just watched in amazement. He had not yet seen the Monster's full strength revealed. 'We have been here before,' Natham laughed. 'You know now better than before that I can snap your neck like a twig – and in an instant too.'
'You must release him!' Agnoril said. 'The Lady would never forget it if you slew her beloved son!'
'Don't tempt me!' Natham said. 'When will you fools learn that I care not for witch-wishes?'
'Very well,' Agnoril said, 'Let him go and we will let you leave unbothered.'
'I do not want to leave unbothered,' Natham said. 'As I said, there is at least half of me that has no desire to leave your challenge unanswered. Half of me is fully persuaded that a hundred wood-boned Merkata desert men is nothing at all to be afraid of. More than half of me is of a mind to snap this petty devil's neck and move on to your own throat. Cowards! You call me lord of the Merkata when the Harz Lord stares you in the face, but when the dangers are passed you call me a traitor!'
'The Lady's commands are not for me to question,' Agnoril answered.
'Such has long been your folly,' Whately said. 'Now will you let us go? Natham will spare the petty devil, will you not?' he turned and looked pleadingly into Natham's eyes.
'It is not for me to decide,' Natham answered much to the puzzlement of those who watched. He stood there for a long time, almost seeming unsure of what his next action would be. Finally, after almost three minutes had passed, Natham lowered Skatlor to the ground.
Skatlor spit on his boots.
The warriors parted to let the two pass (as most of them had secretly wanted to do from the start). Skatlor shouted insults and kicked the dust as they left. Agnoril scolded him to no effect. 'They leave not alone,' Skatlor complained, almost in tears. 'They carry with them my very honor!'
'Skatlor!' Agnoril said as he withstood him. 'You have never had any honor, not in all the years I have known you.' For a moment Skatlor looked at him in amazement. Agnoril continued, choking back a tear. 'None of the Merkata have any honor. They leave with honor. But only with that which has belonged to them from the beginning. We only felt like we had honor while they were among us. When they fought with us, we felt we fought honorably. But we are blood born people and desert wanderers.'
Skatlor, in a mad rage, shoved Agnoril to the ground and darted off in pursuit of the Monster. The others watched in amazement as he leaped onto the back of the monster and tugged at his neck like a babe tugging at the mighty neck of his father. He tore and struck at Natham with all of his might, but the Monster did not react. He pushed him off like a horse swatting a flea. 'Skatlor, you are a fool!' Agnoril shouted.
Even then, Natham would have left the mad fool alone had it not been for his next act. Skatlor knew that Whately was much weaker than he, and he also knew that of all people living, Whately was the only person that the Monster truly loved. He took a dagger from his side and ran after the older man with murder and envy in his eyes.
Natham seemed to anticipate his every move. He knocked the knife from his hand with a flick of his wrist it seemed. He rose up to his full height and came against Skatlor in a fury. He knocked the fool to the ground and stomped on his hand as it desperately searched for its lost blade. Then, in a passion that could not be controlled, his left arm took him up by the throat for a third time. There was no hesitation this time and the foolish son of Malia was dead in an instant. The hideously powerful limb cast his corpse aside, his chain armor jingling among the rocks. Some of the warriors were prepared to charge, but Agnoril stopped them. 'Every one of us knows that the fool Skatlor brought his blood upon his own head. Do not add valor to folly, for folly it will ever remain, though we pour upon it an ocean of our own blood as a covering.' Tears streamed from his
eyes.
All that remains to be told of the sad tale of the Merkata Clan, is that only four years later, almost to the day, the Mountain of Fire, Fhuhar, god of Vestron, made his final judgment upon the Merkata Clan. While the Lady herself reigned in Thasbond, with a broken and unhappy Agnoril as her husband, and while all of her children feasted around her throne, the Mountain of Fire exploded. The sound, it is believed, deafened many in Meldomnon and Nanhur, terrified those in Olgrost, and disturbed the quiet sleep of those even as far away as Kollun (some say the walls of Dadron City itself shook at that moment). In an instant the entire tragic history of the Merkata Clan came to an end. The Lady and her family entire were swallowed up and imprisoned in molten rock, which fell upon them with more ferocity than any mortal can imagine. Malia herself and her mad schemes, Agnoril and his double mind, Gedda and his mighty fists, the almost noble Naran, the great huntsman Oanor, and all the other Lords and Princes of the Merkata clan were killed in a moment of fiery vengeance.
There were, of course, some that survived, but most of these, broken and hungry, went to live among the Vestri of whom they became a part. Others fled back to their desert lands to take up once again the life of nomads and brigands. But the Clan lost at once its queen and its lifeblood. It was destined now to grow weaker and weaker until no trace of the once famous clan could be discerned among its members. A name only, Merkata would become. And in time, perhaps this too will pass away.
Thus perished Malia, the last goddess of Vestron.