Chapter VIII:
Into the West
Lyris
Lyris was taken back to Zomara, where she remained for many days in a deep sleep. She was kept alive on soup and water the whole while. During this time Natham and Whately took over her task of watching the Marches of Marin, though their efforts were never officially sanctioned or praised. Natham was still not permitted to enter the village of Zomara proper, and he was not permitted to come near his sick comrade, 'Lest she perish with a fright,' was the reason given by the Governess.
When another week had passed it was decided that Lyris should be sent to the Fortress of Marin itself where the Queen's own physicians could tend to her injuries.
On the first day of Messest she was whisked away before dawn by a caravan of Marin soldiers. It was their intention that she be removed from the monster's grasp, for his affection for her was all too apparent, and it made the people of Marin uneasy. 'Who could tell what such a beast would do?' they asked one another.
Whately had in the meanwhile built for the monster and himself a nice house of wood and stone on the outside of the village walls. They were given land and a pair of strong oxen to help farm it. All throughout the summer of that year Natham and Whately labored in the fields, much as they had done in Rugna. And, also as it had been in Rugna, the land they tilled and tended became as lush as the queen's own gardens. The harvest finally came and Whately and Natham filled their purses with gold. It almost seemed to them, despite their constant sorrows, that their days of battle had drawn to a close. Though he wished to remain thus forever, Whately could see in the monster's face that he longed to speak with Lyris again, and to look upon her beautiful face. He never spoke of it, but it was ever in his eyes, and bore down upon him like a great burden.
On the second day of the following year, however, under a starry sky of unsurpassed clarity and beauty, Duri reappeared in Zomara. He had run the whole way from Marin Fortress, 'across the frozen lake itself,' he said as he excitedly told Natham his tale.
'I have not seen you much of late,' the monster said. 'Where have you been?'
'You must forgive me,' Duri said soberly, 'For I was in Marin Fortress with the Marshall Lyris.'
Natham's brow furrowed and his breath quickened. 'What news do you bring?' he demanded. 'Is she in good health? They have refused my every request for an account of her recovery.'
'She has recovered,' Duri said, 'but the wounds she received on Mount Zhagib have stayed with her all this time. She will wield neither spear nor shield again. Her bones have mended and her beauty is unmarred, but she has not, nor ever shall have the strength to march again to war.'
'That is a bitter fate for one such as she,' Natham lamented. 'For her spirit is strong and proud, and she loves her people deeply.'
'And yet her fate is bitterer still,' Duri said shaking his head. 'For Queen Marin is not the sort of vintner to leave off pressing until every drop has been drawn from the grape.'
'Speak on,' Natham demanded. 'I would know what has happened.'
'I have known that she resided in Marin, even as have you,' Duri said, 'And I have looked in upon her at times to see if she was well, for I know the affection you have toward her. And for all this time she has been well cared for. She was brought to the Queen's own apothecary and treated with the most expensive remedies. They filled the full measure of health and radiance back into her wounded body, until her hair once again stole away the mystery of midnight and until her eyes once more darkened the gleaming stars above.
'When her health was fully restored, she was brought as a guest of honor to the Queen's own table. This was more than a year ago. A great feast was being held at that time. She was given a gown of pure white silk to wear and a tiara of crystal was set in her hair. She was given a place of honor at the left side of Marin herself.
'To this feast came several men of the west. They were announced to the feast as Lords of Weldera, and they certainly appeared to be such. One of them was dark haired and clad in fine furs and rich garments of green and brown. Always they referred to him as 'Chieftain' or 'Wasterla', though I apprehend that these were simply titles and not his proper name. The other man was much taller and had silvery hair; I say silver and not gray, for he did not appear to me to be an aged man, but rather a man of unusual wisdom and learning. His clothing was dark and at his side he had a blade the likes of which I have not seen in king's halls or in dwarf-lords' hordes - though-' and Duri paused here for some time, 'I feel as though I have seen its like in some other placeÖ He was announced as a lord of Amla, a messenger from the Prince of that land. No council was taken at that feast, but the beauty of Lyris was pointed out to the man in furs. He looked upon her with hungry eyes, putting his hand to his beard as if he were devising some sort of plan.
'After this feast I heard the Queen speak these words: "In the ancient days, men lorded it over women cruelly, and the only power women had was in their wombs. With beauty they could be victorious where fists would avail them nothing. Our Mother indeed was a bold woman. But she had great strength and skill, enough to triumph over the stupid men of her age. But in our day, the blood of Marin grows thin and the great lords of the west are waxing mighty. Shall Marin then be left to rot if she cannot find it within herself to discover power where she yet possesses it? It is to the womb that we must look once more. By beauty, then, shall Lyris serve the Quendom, bringing to us security in a place where strength of arms would be insufficient. She will do much to gain for us that which we have ever desired."
'What is the meaning of this?' Natham asked, puzzled. 'And why have you not spoken of it, though it came to pass more than a year ago?'
'I knew not its meaning,' Duri said. 'But now, when it has come to pass, I remembered her dark council, and her greedy eyes. Not three days have passed since Lyris the Blind-Maiden, the one whose kindness is undaunted by your ugliness, was carried into the west to be a prize for some Western barbarian. Even now she is being brought into the west to board the barbarian's vessel and come by the Kollun Sea to the land of Weldera. The gleam that I was so glad to see returned to her green eyes was darkened and her countenance fell as she was spirited away under the cover of night. She had the look of a prisoner being led to the gallows. To Dalta City she is being carried even as we speak. I rushed, as I said before, across land and lake, thicket and highway, to warn you of this tragedy, for you know that I cannot do anything to save her with my own hands.'
When Natham told all of these things to his Master, Whately's face turned to white. He rose from his seat and began to rush about the room, gathering things and tossing them into a leather sack. 'We cannot delay, even for a moment,' he said sternly. 'We must be on the highway within an hour's time.'
As they gathered their things Whately began to speak to Natham of what was to come. 'We must overtake them ere they leave these shores,' he said without explaining. 'If we fail to do this then all we have labored for in this country will have been in vain. Take with you Adfaro, for he is the swiftest of our horses and he alone among our steeds can carry the weight of Admunth. I will bring Steia; she will be sufficient for my needs. It may be, my dear Natham, that this will be our final journey together. If we come not to the port ere Lyris' escort, then we must part ways, for I cannot return to Weldera. An oath binds me and forbids me.'
They left by moonlight and traveled due west along the country roads until they came to the Olmar road, which travels between Nikol and Marin. On this road they hurried almost without stopping until the sun sank into the west on the following evening. After a short rest they resumed their pace and passed the Fortress of Marin on the seventh day from their departure. For another week they traveled west, until at last they came to the great city of Dalta, where the great Malent elf-king had once ruled. They passed the stone arches of the entrance without so much as glancing upon the reliefs that adorned every inch of the walls and pillars. Marble statues of unsurpassed beauty were strewn about the city's streets, but these th
ey passed with as little attention as they gave to the gravel beneath their feet. They pressed on over great stone bridges the likes of which no mortal can build and finally to that sacred harbor where the elves first set foot in Olgrost, according to their histories.
But it was all for naught. The ship was gone, it had left the harbor the night before, they were told, carrying Lyris and the barbarian lord into the west.
So it was that Whately brought the Monster of Vestron from the eastern shores of that continent where they had been shipwrecked all the way to the western shores of Olgrost, where the seagulls fly above the Kollun sea. But no further could they travel together. Tears streamed from Whately's face as he spoke. 'In my youth I slew a man. In the pride and folly of youth I accepted a challenge from a weaker man and fought him to the death, taking from him all that he possessed. In those days I traveled the lands of Weldera freely, buying and selling and growing wealthy. But my injustice would not leave me. When I went to sleep at night it lay down beside me as it were, for my wife belonged to him whom I slew. When I rode upon my horse it came beneath me, for the steed was the steed of him whom I slew. Everywhere I went the shame of my pride followed behind, until I despaired of life altogether. A darkness fell upon me one day as I rode through the dark forests of Falsis, and I fell into a deep sleep even as I rode upon my horse. I struck a branch and fell to the ground as a dead man. That night, as I lay upon the empty road, the stars reeled overhead and disclosed to me, it seemed, all their judgments. Damned I was,' Whately wept, Damned for my great folly and pride. In that hour I was commanded, by whom I do not know, that the next soul that I encounter would ask me to perform a task that would draw me away from Weldera forever. That task required of me an oath, that the child that was in that day delivered into my care would never be brought by me to the land of Weldera where he had been born. I swore as I was bidden, and I have feared this day ever since. I cannot return to that land with you, for nothing good ever comes of a broken oath. But you,' Whately lamented, 'You are ever-faithful. I know that you must go to Weldera and save your beloved from the ambitions of callous lords. She alone of mortals, has treated you with kindness unmingled. May the lords of heaven bring fortune to your feet. Goodbye, my son.'
There beside the crashing waves of the Kollun Sea the Monster of Vestron and his Master bid one another farewell for the last time.
End of Book III
Book IV:
The Seige of Dadron