Chapter III:
The Remnant of Galva
Flourishing in Ram-u-Nar
Under the guidance of Dynamis the Galva Remnant had grown strong. They farmed the land and built habitations for themselves in Ram-u-Nar, but their hearts were always fixed upon their return. Daryas and his brother did not forget the plight of their father, nor did they forget their kinsman Olver whose survival alone yet stood between Cheft Ponteris and his ambitions. For there are none who will dare shed the blood of a Cheftan of the Galvahirne while yet there lives another to avenge him.
Though his dreams had relented somewhat while he was in exile, Daryas never quite slept without fear or sorrow. His dream repeated itself again and again until it fixed itself in his mind with the same clarity as a living memory.
Throughout the exile, the Remnant remained undetected by the men of Ramlos. On occasion they would send scouts out to spy out the land. In this way they became familiar with the southeastern portions of Heyan as well as with the wild lands of Golbfein. But they never traveled in groups larger than three, and even then they only departed from their hidden country when it was deemed necessary. They were for the most part self sufficient, but they could not grow or craft everything for themselves. Some of them would descend from the Daunrys (The Coronan Mountains as they called them) in the guise of common merchants, seeking to trade the goods of the Galvahirne with men of Ramlos.
Knowing the restlessness of his people, Dynamis arranged a great feast to be held on the twenty first day of Messest, and a tournament to precede it. Prizes from Dynamis' own treasures would be given to the greatest archer, the greatest swordsman, the greatest fighter, and the greatest horseman. The games began at dawn, with many hundreds taking part. Old Cheft Aargo served as judge over all the competitions, saying, 'Games, my lord (all the men of the Remnant, whatever their nobility, in those days called Dynamis 'lord'), are for the young; I am too old for such entertainments.'
'I do not doubt, though, that you would take the prize in more than one game,' Dynamis said with a nod.
'So long as the sons of Biron compete not,' he laughed.
The contest of archery was held first. Daryas did quite well in this contest, very nearly outshooting his brother Dynamis. But in the end the honor was won, not surprisingly, by Aoder the huntsman. The contest between he and the brothers Galvahirne lasted long into the afternoon. 'You made me fear for my honor,' he conceded as he was given his prize, a longbow with a string that shone like gold in the sun and an ivory handle. 'Take this, Aoder,' Dynamis said as he handed him the bow along with a quiver of arrows, 'and let it serve your hands well in battle and in the hunt. There is no greater bow this side of the Kollun Sea, and no greater archer in all the world to wield it.'
The next contest was to determine who was the greatest fighter. In this the sons of Aargo made their father proud. In the end the whole contest came down to a battle between his eldest son, Eron, and his third son, Jerson. They fought long into the evening. But in the end Eron pinned his brother to the ground and took the prize, which was a suit of hard leather armor. 'This armor, I was told, was made in Kharku from the hide of a beast that cannot be killed with arms, due to the thickness of its hide. The people of that land can only acquire such materials when the beast finally lays itself down and dies of old age. Let this armor serve you, Eron, son of Aargo, even as it served its former master.'
The night came early, as the autumn slowly stole back the light of day from the summer, storing it away as it were for its rebirth come springtime. That night, under cold cloudless skies the men of Ram-u-Nar held a great feast, celebrating their good fortune, offering prayers and sacrifices for their homeland, and praising the victors of the day's games.
The next morning the games began anew. A contest of horsemanship began almost with the first light of dawn. There was a series of races, some mock combat, and at last the men took bows in hand and tested their mounted archery against targets. Aoder did well in the archery, as one might well expect, but he was not well accustomed to shooting on horseback. He was beaten by both of the brothers Galvahirne as well as by Gishin, who did better than he by one shot alone. Daryas, surprising even himself, proved to be the greatest mounted archer, but Dynamis beat him soundly in the combat portion of the game. In the races, however, Dynamis' horse Novai outran all others, making their mighty steeds look like donkeys in comparison. 'I cannot accept great honors for this deed,' he laughed as the game ended. 'To Novai and her noble breed must go the praise, for she it was that carried me to victory.'
He gave the prize, however, to Vallus Phoadirne, whose horse had finished the race first among the others. He was given a gold-plated helm with two great horns and a plume of crimson dyed horse hair rising nearly a foot into the air above the crown. 'This was the helm of some Ancient, who perished in the last battle of Dadron, when all that kindred was driven forth or destroyed. I have long kept it safe and sound among my treasures; so let it keep you should war come once more to the Noras.'
Lastly, the contest of swordsmanship was held. It began in the afternoon and lasted throughout the evening, for there were many among the Remnant who desired the prize set forth by Dynamis. It was a strong shield, made with the wood of the Pelnok tree which only grows in the northern regions of Kollun. The wood itself is light, but strong enough to turn away iron. The top of the shield was plated with dwarven steel.
In this contest it was believed that Forge Collesirne would easily prove himself the victor. But he was beaten, much to the crowds amazement, by Daryas, who had for all that year trained under his brother's instruction. Olsith defeated Melgu, but then was defeated himself by Dynamis. In the end, much to the pleasure of those who watched, the contest came down to the two brothers Galvahirne. They battled long into the evening, dueling at last by the light of watchfires. Each of them was covered with sweat and dirt, and a little blood, unwilling to lay down their swords. 'I surrendered the prize for horsemanship,' Dynamis laughed, 'I cannot be expected to do so again for swordplay.'
'I have no doubt, brother,' Daryas said, panting, 'that in this match you will in the end prove the victor. But far be it from me to let you have this great honor without having fully earned it.'
Thus they went on until even the crowd began to tire of the competition. The night drew on and as Cheft Aargo was preparing to call the duel a draw and order the beginning of the feast, someone shouted, 'The watchfire! Look to the Horn! (They had named the ridge behind which their whole settlement was made 'The Horn' because of its curved shape)
The games ended at once, Daryas and Dynamis lowered their swords and took one another by the hand. 'Let us put shoulder to shoulder, my brother,' Dynamis said, 'through whatever perils.'
'Through whatever perils,' Daryas repeated. With that they rushed off with the rest of the captains of the Remnant to see to the watchfire.
As they drew near to the pass which would take them up to the ridge they were met by Revere, who was at that same time descending. 'Hail, Dynamis, my lord,' he said. 'One of the men spied the figure of a man or of a woman walking under the stars some ten leagues to the south. With great haste it comes, never stopping to rest. Just an hour ago I saw it myself. A strange white form, passing through the woodlands, over mountains, wading across streams, taking a perilous road.'
The brothers took no notice of the concern in his voice, though it was something that certainly would have been absent ere he fell in with the Galvahirne. In those days he would not even have been able to pretend to care for another human soul. But in Solibree he had been beaten, when the son of Biron discovered his betrayal, and yet spared him. At first he served the Galvahirne out of fear; but his time among them slowly brought about a change. It was slow enough that nobody could have marked it as change. Day by day he had felt less like a prisoner and more like a servant, and finally he felt like any other warrior among them. At times it seemed to entirely escape his memory that he had not voluntarily joined the exile of the Galva Army.
/>
'What do you think of it, master scout?' Dynamis demanded.
'I think it to be an exile or vagabond, fleeing from some dreadful fate - or perhaps a madman escaped from his bonds. With great purpose the figure runs, but without sense or preparation. They are more afraid of what they flee than of whatever they might meet with in the wild.'
'What ought we to do?' the lord of the Galvahirne asked his captains, Vallus and Forge, who stood beside him.
'We should snuff out every flame,' Vallus answered, 'and hide ourselves from the eyes of the stranger. For we know not what evil it will bring. We should avoid it unless we have no other choice.'
Forge gave a more startling recommendation, 'Let us send out a swift rider and make an end of the beast, for we cannot risk discovery. The people of our home long for our return, and we for the hour of our vengeance. Shall it be said that we came not to deliver them because we were found out by some wandering madman?'
The others protested the cruelty of this course of action. Daryas, who had come last to stand among them, suggested, 'Let us ride out to this creature and see if it is a foe ere we lay any arrow to the string or unclothe our blades against it. Who knows what doom may befall those who presumptuously fall upon such a desperate creature. For this at least is clear from the accounts: The creature that approaches is in dire need, and such a creature will not lightly bring harm to those that might offer it some sanctuary or hiding place.'
'It will be as you have said,' Dynamis answered. 'And we shall ride out to it together, brother.'
Neither of them imagined the events that would come of this course of action.
Weldera in Peril
It was well past midnight when at last the brothers laid eyes upon the strange wanderer. It was a woman, and a noble lady at that, though her clothing was so torn and dirtied that she looked more like a beggar than a person of honor. But there were many rings upon her fingers and a gold chain about her neck. When they came upon her she was lying face down in the dirt, barely breathing. They helped her to rise and laid her before a fire, which Daryas quickly prepared. A blanket of Noras fur was put around her and soon she was given hot water to drink, mixed with some herbs that were believed to have a healing effect among the Noras. At first the woman just wept and would say nothing. She just rocked back and forth, clutching her knees. The care upon her face made her look far older than she was.
When at last she had come to her senses she began to speak. But she would answer none of their questions. The brothers could see the signs of madness in her eyes.
'He has killed them all,' she raved, 'they are all dead. The women, the men, the faithful servants of the king's house. All of them, all of them, all of them-'
'Who has killed them?' Dynamis asked her. She responded to nothing that they said, only repeating her startling message again and again.
When she had sat thus speaking for almost an hour she suddenly froze as if she had seen a spirit. Her voice was broken and her eyes opened wide. She screamed, 'Cursed be the Moon Child!'
With those words she fell forward onto her face and sunk her fingers deep into the dirt, clawing at the earth.
Dynamis went to get their horses, for it seemed to him that they must bring her back to Ram-u-Nar with haste to see if by some means she might be healed. But Daryas, as if instructed by fate, went and knelt close beside her, listening. For a long time she said nothing, simply looking to the stars in anguish. Finally the madness seemed to flee from her eyes and she spoke clearly. She said, in a weak whisper, 'The Siren they call her, my fair princess, the most miserable of all creatures. Great peril will befall her by the hands of that ungrateful usurper, that devil-child of havoc. I am Marel, once Queen of this land, but of late I have been damned. For the dark one has slain the king and all his family with him. All that yet remains is myself and the Siren of Sten-Agoni - and I soon will perish.'
Dynamis, returning, tried to keep her from speaking, 'You must save what strength remains within you for the ride, my lady,' he pleaded. But she shook her head.
'Nay, my strength is long past; what remains of it is the voice of doom itself. My sorrow is greater than my weakness, and by it alone I live on to bemoan the evils of the day. But even this must soon pass. Child,' she said addressing herself to Daryas, 'You must go to the south and west a little ways, follow the stream you find between the two brother hills of Agledau and Daufina into the Sacred Valley. Thence you will come at last to that hidden pool of the dark god. There you will find the Siren.'
With those words spoken she seemed to grow strong and Dynamis almost thought she would rise in that moment in full health. But all this strength turned swiftly to anger and she screamed as she tore at Daryas with her filthy hands, 'Fly from this place, devil, and go not nigh the mountain! For I have put a curse upon her, that ungrateful child. She will be, soon, even as I have ever been. For I must perish; now she alone is Perfect, She is the sun and all else is in her shadow.'
The light in her eyes flashed out and her last breath rose slowly from her body as a mist in the cold night air.
'Whatever bewitchment was upon her has fallen upon you as well, brother!' Dynamis said as Daryas mounted his horse. 'You cannot go there, not alone. You know not what awaits you there! You know not what foes you may encounter.'
'I am not bewitched, brother Dyne,' he responded. 'Those were the words of my dream; if I go not south at once I will never be comforted.'
'A shadow lies to the south, brother. Let us return to Ram-u-Nar and take counsel. We might make a party and go to the south in strength to spy out the land and see what has become of the Kingdom of Amlaman. Do not do this rash thing!'
'I cannot change the path that fate has set before my feet, brother.'
'Nor can I,' Dynamis said at last relenting, 'But in my heart I hoped that my counsel might also be part of fate's decree. Go to the south with my blessing, if you must go. But do not take this sorry beast; take Novai with you, for she will carry you swiftly from whatever danger you may meet there. Whatever you find, brother, do not forget us, the Remnant of Galva, and the sad state of our parents. Learn what you can of the south, learn what the Master of Causes has awaiting you there, but by all means RETURN to me, for my own sake. You are to me the dearest of all my comrades and kin.'
'Even as you are to me, brother,' Daryas said as he stepped down form his horse. They embraced, choking back tears. Then Daryas mounted Novai, whispering in her ears, 'Remember me, Novai? It is I, Daryas, the lesser Galvahirne. I pray that you will help me all the more for my weakness.'
With those words he charged off into the night, chasing the light of the southern stars.
Dreamlands
As he began his southern journey Daryas was immediately aware that the path to Sten-Agoni was not alien to him. As he gazed about he saw that he knew every tree and every little mountain brook. He knew where to cross, where he must dismount, and where to find the easiest trails. 'In this my dreams have instructed me well,' he said as a chill rose up to his neck.
That night, when at last he was forced by exhaustion to stop for the night, his dream returned to him in full, without omission and without interruption.
His dream began much in the same way as his journey began. But the dream varied, sometimes having him travel the lonely wilderness alone, sometimes upon a horse. The land was always the same: five wooded hills, two mountain streams and a secret path of stone, overrun with weeds and thorns.
He would come at last, after much toiling, to a place where the cool waters of the Meretris gathered into a pool before vanishing into some secret tunnel. He knew from his dreams that he must cross the stream in this place, for further ahead the northern bank would become too steep for a horse to cross.
On the eastern side of the pool there were many stones. Atop these he slowly led Novai across. The thick leather boots he wore were of Noras design and let no water in, though the cold nipped at his feet all the same. When they had crossed the pool Daryas once more mount
ed Novai and together they continued along the stream to the east.
The stream led him into a small valley, the name of which he knew not, though every smell and every sight were as familiar to him as the secrets and haunts of his childhood home in Peiraso. He left the stream for a time and wandered south and to the east to find better ground. He knew full well that he would strike the stream again as it lunged southwards further to the east. The building he saw when at last he followed this stream, he had seen many times, though the sight of it was more impressive and more frightening to his waking eyes.
The stones of which the building was made were so huge and so white that it almost looked like a celestial palace, and not a work of mere men. He saw the western gate through which the waters of the Meretris poured out into the wilderness. On either side of the stream there were great doors of oak, looming high above his head.
There were guard towers on both the southern and the northern corners of the building, but Daryas somehow felt assured that there were, at this time, no watchers upon them.
The air seemed to suddenly grow warm as he approached, and his dreams and his memories began to mingle freely with his waking mind, until his whole frame of mind became more dreamlike, though the images that had for so long haunted him became all the more real. He found that the door on the southern side of the stream was open and unguarded. He dismounted and without a thought left Novai to wander on her own in that mysterious valley. The door made no sound as it swung open. Inside the walls were decked with long green vines, adorned with many white flowers and bright red berries. On the floor there were stone planters from which grew slender white trees with silvery green leaves. He marveled that they should yet have their leaves at this time of year. But as he breathed yet more of that dreamlike air he found that he could believe almost anything of this place. Fate awaited him here. That is the thought that came into his mind, and his heart rejoiced. The water gurgled softly, there were songbirds in the branches, though all other such birds had fled winter's chill. A great warmth was in that place, and life seemed to be given in double measure to every creature and to every plant. As he neared the center of the building he heard, for the first time with his waking ears, the song of the one that was called the Siren of Sten-Agoni, Leonara, the Princess of Amlaman. He caught a glimpse of her as she passed by her window in the northeastern guard tower. As she passed their eyes met, and though they were still quite a ways off from one another they both felt as though they were standing face to face. This passed quickly and the princess once more vanished from sight.
His heart racing and leaping, Daryas quickened his pace and, crossing the stream on a slender bridge of white stone, he hastened toward the northeast. For what seemed like an eternity, though it was scarcely a second, all shadow of doubt and fear fled from his heart and mind. Strong he felt, and capable of any great deed. This is what he had come for, to find and help this precious creature, whose eyes were so filled with sadness.
This was the solution to all of his torments, the answer to all of his confusion.
The hand of Fate, however, like any mortal's hand, has two sides. For every thing that is revealed to man, many others are concealed. Before he had come within fifty paces of the tower's entrance, he discovered that he walked not alone upon those bright white stone tiles. All about him there was the traffic of soft-slippered feet going to and fro in the courtyard.
Everywhere he looked it seemed, there stood a woman of exquisite beauty and grace, adorned in the richest clothes, and perfumed with scents which only the priests of Agonistes can make. Each of these had such a look of nobility in their painted faces that he could not help but feel almost an admiration for them. They seemed to circle about him, drawing closer as he walked. He knew it not, but to their eyes he appeared to be some wealthy foreign lord, come to 'worship' in the Sacred Valley of the Virgins, as many rich men were wont to do in those days. They had seen many visitors from Titalo and from Rinin, and even from Ilmaria in the deep south; so it did not seem at all strange to their eyes for such an outsider to appear unannounced. For the Noras, the wearing of fur was not in the least bit unusual, as hunting was their livelihood. But for these girls of Amlaman, so much fur was an extravagance.
In their eyes he saw longing and desire, but it was really desire for lucre. Upon their wrists they wore many bangles, so that if they made the slightest move a soft melody seemed to float upon the air, drawing all eyes to them. Goddesses they seemed to him, and indeed, in a sense, goddesses they were. For they, by beauty and false love, place a yoke upon a man's neck and drive him like a beast to seek after their desires and their benefit. Many a wealthy man had in that place squandered his whole living. Then, when his gold ceases to flow into their hands, their love ceases and he is driven from them by the guards to face the consequences of his prodigality on his own.
In that instant all Daryas' clarity and resolve was replaced with chaos and torment, such as not even his dreams had provided. His heart thundered in his chest as he looked about the Nunnery. Had he known what manner of place this was, or what sorrows would come from these enchantresses, he would have forgone his expedition altogether, or at the very least charged through the courtyard with his eyes closed and his fingers in his ears. But he was caught quite unawares and for a brief time he knew not why he had come or what it was that he sought within this strange place. Many tempting things presented themselves to him in that instant to replace his resolve with fleeting vanity.
Lightheaded, he knelt down beside the cool water and washed his eyes with the water from the Meretris. As he looked upon the water he saw standing behind him the reflection of these lovely creatures and he saw their painted eyes and their whitewashed cheeks. Then he turned his gaze upon his own reflection and saw again what had always appeared to him to be the ugly square face of a Galvahirne. A rough man, cut from stone and wood, not of flesh like these soft creatures that stood around him. 'What could they possibly desire in such as I,' he laughed to himself. Then he looked at his coat of fur and his cloak of deep blue. 'I must seem like some barbarian lord to them,' he rightly guessed. 'And a wealthy one too.'
He rose from the stream and started again toward the tower, his heart filled with resentment as well as relief. The charms and mysteries of these women had begun their work, and he walked away not a little affected. As he walked further from them the intoxication of their perfume wore off and his head began to clear. He started to walk more swiftly, hoping the flow of blood would wash away this distraction entirely. For he had still his destiny to reckon with, and whatever was the effect that these women had upon him, he knew his heart lay captive within that northeastern tower. The song of the Siren was more enchanting than a million such women, and though his heart was greatly troubled, his desire to solve the mystery of his dreams was unaltered.
This whole chain of events took little more than a minute, but its effects upon his destiny were greater than he could possibly have imagined. However, at the time he perceived no change in his circumstances. There was, however, some seed of darkness growing in his mind which he could not account for. He looked back and shuddered; his shadow seemed to lengthen and darken as he approached the tower. A great torch burning at the base of the tower, mounted upon the stone wall next to the entry seemed to explain this phenomena adequately, and he passed through into the the tower, laughing at himself. 'Afraid of shadows now, Daryas,' he laughed within himself. 'Sion would make no end of mocking you.' His heart sunk as he ascended the stairs, thinking about his comrade and wondering what fate he had met.
In this tower the princess of Amlaman resided, and Lord Vulcan had ordered it to be well guarded and well stocked with arms. Upon a table in the center of the lowest floor was a roast lamb with a knife and fork still embedded as though one had rushed away from the table in such haste that they had no time to set them down. As Daryas stood there a little steam yet rose from the meat. Surrounding the lamb were many plates, each with a fork and a knife laying on top.
At least a dozen men were expected at that supper, though where they had all gone was more than Daryas could guess. Still affected by the voice of the Siren singing above, he thought nothing more of it.
He ascended the stairs quickly, the anticipation of his fate drawing him forward. He came at last to the top of the stairs and before him stood a wooden door, slightly ajar. He pushed his hand against it and peered inside.
The song that flowed from the room seemed to carry with it a powerful magic, turning every sound of nature into an accompaniment; the gurgle of the stream below, the cool wind against the stone tower, the howl of distant wolfs, all seemed to conspire with her voice to enthrall the mind and heart. He opened the door, stepped inside, and met his destiny.
Siren
There sat Leonara thasa Amlaman, near the eastern window, gazing into her mirror with unblinking eyes, singing to herself. A tear seemed trapped on her cheek, as though it had frozen as it fell. Time itself seemed to make way for her melody and it became impossible for Daryas to tell how long he had been standing there.
At last her song came to a stop and the tear fell from her face onto the mirror, which was laying on the table before her. The tear seemed to break whatever enchantment she was under and she looked up and saw Daryas standing there before her. An eternity seemed to elapse before anything moved or changed. Daryas found himself drawing ever closer to the Siren of Sten-Agoni, though he did not remember taking any steps. She rose from her feet and looked at him closely. 'Who are you?' she asked in a soft, but troubled voice.
Her beauty struck him so deeply that he was afraid that he might faint that very instant. Upon her shoulders hung a bright white gown the sort which only the Virgins of the temple are permitted to wear. Her long hair shone in the starlight, falling upon her shoulders like a golden waterfall and sparkling like a dragon's horde. Upon her head there sat a small crown of silver. In her ears were tiny diamonds and about her neck was a chain of the purest silver. Upon the chain there hung an heirloom, a tiny golden figure of an Aggelos with ruby eyes.
'I have come to aid you,' Daryas said, 'for I have been led here by many dreams and signs. My name is Daryas Galvahirne, son of Biron, Cheftan of Galva-la.'
She held her hand out to him with her palm facing downward. He took her fingers in his hand. She said, 'I am Princess Leonara thasa Amlaman thasa Ramlos, daughter of the late King of Weldera. Here I have dwelt in exile while kings, queens, and daring men clambor for power. Tell me Daryas Galvahirne,' she asked with a hint of desperation in her voice, 'How can you help one such as I? My father is perished, and my mother will perish soon also, if she has not already been slain by my betrothed.'
'Your betrothed?' Daryas asked in a startled voice. 'Tell me what troubles you, fair princess. And I will set all my will against it.'
With tears she told him all that had transpired in the house of Vulcan, even from the days of Voltan her uncle, whom her father Vulcan had slain. She also told him how her cousin, Volthamir, under the guidance of the Fell Knight Lord Havoc, had usurped the throne and taken for himself the Dual Crown of Joplis. She lamented the restoration of the temple and all the years she was made a spectacle for the masses of Amlaman. She told him about the Cup of Trial and the humiliation of Voltan's heir. She told him of the coming of Legion's head, and how she was promised to the Fell Wolf of Heyan in marriage. 'I loved him,' she wept, 'I cried out for him every night. But when he finally came he was a devil, with a strange light in his eyes and hard words of gods and war.'
'War?' Daryas asked, suddenly thinking of his companions in Ram-u-Nar.
'Sixteen years ago my father, King Vulcan thos Amlaman, restored the Temple of Agonistes to the service of the dark god. In the day of its dedication the people of one accord swore to do the will of Agonistes. I was but three years of age, and yet I still remember the fire, the drums and the terrible voice of the god. I have been told that they swore to bring vengeance upon the head of Pelas, god of Falsis. The King will make good on this oath; he will lead the people of Amlaman to war.'
Daryas was silent for a moment, contemplating what she had told him. He knew he must return to the Remnant at once, for it was clear that Cheft Ponteris' usurpation of the lordship of Noras was but a part of some greater scheme. Leonara, after she had finished speaking, wept for a long time, throwing herself into the arms of the young Galvahirne. He looked at the princess' tearful face and was filled with love and pity. 'I will ease your burden, my lady,' Daryas said as he held her in his arms. 'Whatever must be done, I will see to it, for I cannot bear to see sadness within such lovely eyes.' Indeed, her eyes looked to him like the bottom of a clear pool of water where the light of the sun dances in lines upon the floor.
'Will you swear it?' she said somberly, 'All I have yet seen in this life is lies and deception. Will you be true to me? Will you take me away from here?'
'I swear it by the stars above, that nothing shall keep me from bringing comfort to you in your sorrow. But first we must see to your safety. We must make haste from this place.'
But the Princess did not respond, nor move for a long time. She just clung to his shoulders, almost as if she were sleeping. Looking upon the table, Daryas noticed that the tiny tear that had dropped from the princess' eye had at last all but dried, leaving the surface of the mirror unmarred. Leonara's head swung up suddenly and her eyes met her would-be rescuer's. 'You are a devil also!' she accused suddenly, almost in an entirely different voice. Her face turned into a snarl and she thrust Daryas' arms away from her. 'Do not touch me, you brutish heathen!'
Daryas was too stunned to say anything. A shadow came over her eyes and she rushed to her table and took the mirror in her hand. She looked long at it and finally looked up at Daryas. 'Shadow,' she said coldly. 'You are naught but shadow and darkness.'
'What do you mean?' Daryas said as his chest heaved with sorrow, perceiving that it was not to destiny, but rather some sour doom that his dreams had led him at last.
'I can smell it on you, that foul perfume; the aroma of the whores of Agonistes. You saw them when you passed through the courtyard; and I saw you too, bewildered and amazed, pining like an animal for the harem of the dark god! Serve him then, and perhaps he will reward you with one of his pretty little dainties! If he consumes them not with flame before hand.'
Daryas opened his mouth to speak, but he could think of nothing to say. 'It is only for that one who has for all these years haunted my dreams that I have come.'
'And all your efforts have been a waste, for you are no better than the one who I have already turned away. With that she charged at him and beat against him with her arms. He tried to restrain her, but she was too furious and impassioned to be calmed. She dug the nails of her right hand deep into the flesh of his neck, until red blood dripped from his throat and poured onto the floor. She screamed, and all the Valley echoed with the sound of her wrath. 'Shadow and lies!' she hollered at him in a fit of madness. Her voice seemed to thunder like that of a goddess.
Mityai Follows
When Daryas came to Ram-u-Nar, he came not alone. Besides the Galva Army and the servants and followers of his brother Dynamis, he was accompanied by the spirit Mityai, who had long been charged with watching his movements.
By her influence his dreams were made more easy to bear and his sleep became less troubled. Her ancient songs drove from his mind the darkest of those devils that would otherwise have been permitted to torment him. In this way his sanity and health were preserved, but the purposes of Lord Pelas were not achieved; Daryas was not as yet fully prepared for the road that Pelas meant for him to walk. Mityai, however, could not bear to see him in such anguish and confusion, and she had therefore decided to disregard the demands of her master.
Oblis, the mighty servant of Lord Pelas had indeed come for her, as he was commanded. But she hid from him with such skill that his slow eyes could not find her. After long searching he abandoned his quest, deeming it better to return to Pelas with his report than to return not
at all, and yet still in failure. He was the sort of spirit that is mighty in arms, but greatly lacking in wisdom and cunning.
During the time of the exile of the Galva Army, Mityai spent most of her time on the marches of their territory, watching and waiting lest any strangers should came upon them. The mighty spirit Cheru, servant of Pelas, had also come to Ram-u-Nar, charged with the safe keeping of Daryas. But he searched not for the little sprite, nor would his mighty eyes take much thought of her even had he seen her. Cheru ever stood at the side of Daryas, unseen and unmovable.
It was Mityai that directed the eyes of the guards atop the ridge to the ailing queen of Amlaman. Had she known what would come of it she would have turned their faces to the north and let the frail queen perish alone in the woods. But pity entered into her heart when she saw the wandering madwoman. She could not tell whether she was a friend or foe, or whether she was good or evil. But it seemed to her judgment that this fragile creature could do little harm, whatever her intentions might be.
She followed close behind Daryas as he and his brother left the security of Ram-u-Nar behind them. She kept a close watch on Daryas as he spoke with the dying queen. But as the sorry scene unfolded a passing shadow seemed to lurk about in the woods. She stepped away from her ward and snuck out into the woods to have a look.
In the darkness under the naked autumn trees she at first could see nothing. But as she stared into the blackness she saw at last what seemed to be two tiny fireflies, floating about this way and that. But as her keen eyes looked on she realized they were the shining eyes of some great beast.
Suddenly, the whole figure of a great black wolf appeared before her. He was one of the black wolves of Heyan, but stood nearly twice the height of a common wolf. His eyes glowed red like fire. For a long time neither of them moved or spoke.
He started toward the fire, with dripping jaws and a low growl. 'Who are you!?' Mityai demanded in a panic. The wolf stopped and sat up, snarling in her direction. 'You are no mere wolf,' she said rightly.
'I am that which plays not the game of the gods,' the wolf said in a cold voice. 'Long have I hunted this one, that I might take revenge on the liar Pelas, who promised us the blood and fat of men. What we found in the hills was charred bones and smoke. I am Ghastin, Lord of Wolves. Depart from me, sprite,' he commanded with a snap of his jaws.
'I am charged by the same Pelas with the safety of this mortal,' Mityai pleaded. 'I cannot permit you to harm him.'
The wolf seemed almost to laugh. 'Pelas? You are the guardian of this boy?' The wolf snickered. 'What could you protect, whisp-spirit? Set all your will against me, child, and you will not but pluck a hair from my shoulders. Depart, I say, lest I send you to hell with the devils!'
With that the wolf started toward the fire once more, ready to trample the smaller spirit to the dust if he must. She held her hands in front of her and said, 'He is not alone! Lord Cheru the Mighty stands ever at his side!'
Ghastin stopped with one paw still in the air. A sigh seemed to pass from his mouth and he sat upright, turning his head toward the terrified spirit. 'Murderous Cheru,' he murmured. 'I have not the patience for such things today.'
He continued on toward the fire, this time with no sign of fear. He was abruptly confronted by the great god Cheru, who held in one hand a mighty sword and in the other a shield the likes of which only a god could wield.
'Truly you are a god unrivaled, Master Cheru, slayer of that devilish fiend Amro,' Ghastin said with much sarcasm.
'If I have no rival,' Cheru answered with thunder in his voice, 'then to what end do you mock me, Ghastin, lord of scavengers?'
'Who mocks who, slayer of fell Amro?'
'Think what you will, but that deed was done ere the waters came, I cannot answer for it now. Nor have I any need to answer to you.'
Ghastin laughed. 'You and I, master Cheru, will have our day, but for now all I require is the blood of this mortal child. For Pelas has deceived me, and I am not bound to him by any covenant or treaty.'
'But you are bound by this,' Cheru answered, holding aloft his mighty blade.
'Fair enough,' Ghastin answered, 'I have no desire to cross fangs with such deadly blades, bane of Amro.'
With that Cheru grew impatient, 'Tell me, bone-jawer, why I ought not smite you to hell this instant?'
'Because it would take you more than an instant,' Ghastin laughed. 'You see, my back is not turned, as was he of old whose death brought you such fame!'
Cheru swung his blade down in a flash, but the wolf darted aside. Ghastin laughed and stepped back into the shadows. From there his voice came out again, cool and cruel, 'Lord Cheru,' he said, 'you have before you three souls. Let me have but two of them, and I will, for this hour spare the younger Galvahirne. I have at my command many beasts.' With those words many howls rang out in the night. 'More than enough to take all from your ghostly grip. For against these you have only a little power, for they are not gods as we.'
Cheru was silent for a while, but at least he said, 'So be it,' and returning to Daryas' side he spoke no more.
When at last the brothers departed, Daryas southward and Dynamis carrying the fallen queen, a dark shape slipped from tree to tree, following the trail of the elder brother.
Startled and afraid, Mityai remained in the woods for a long time, fearing lest some other devil or god should discover her. But when several hours had passed she darted off toward the south into lands she knew not, following the trail of Daryas toward his fate.
Escape
When Mityai arrived at the Nunnery of Agonistes she saw Cheru standing in the woods watching Daryas enter the courtyard. He seemed dazed, if such a thing is possible for spirits. Confused, she risked a few words, 'What is the meaning of this?' she asked him in her soft voice. 'Why goes the son of Biron alone into this strange place?'
'There is a power here,' Cheru said weakly, not seeming to recognize her, 'there is a dark presence - one that long ago I felt and feared...' The mighty god seemed stripped of sense and courage altogether, staring blankly toward the east. It was no use speaking to him any further, nor did she wish to draw any more attention to herself, lest word should come to Lord Pelas that she yet haunted the ways of young Daryas.
She took to the stone path and followed Daryas into the Nunnery. Immediately a terror seized her heart and the world seemed to turn into blood and darkness. A shrill voice echoed in her ears, 'Begone, child, I have no patience for thee,' it said. 'Of the Twins I have no fear, nor of the other meddlesome gods. Come see me and die the death of hell, or be wise and leave what is mine alone.'
This is the voice that left Cheru in the state in which she had found him, and for a moment she too stopped and stepped away. But after a while the darkness seemed suddenly to lessen and the voice departed. Without hesitation or consideration she darted into the courtyard, passed the loitering Virgins and entered into the northeastern tower.
She came to the room of the princess just as she attacked Daryas. Leonara pushed against him until she had pressed him against the wall. He struggled to protect himself, desperately trying not to harm her as he held her hands away from his neck. The princess lifted her arm to strike Daryas, but her blow never fell. In that moment it came into the mind of Mityai to do that which was always forbidden to the servants of Pelas - that which had damned thousands of souls before and, she thought, would bring about the damnation of her own soul. But she could not bear to watch the young man over whom she had so long kept vigil suffer any more harm. She leapt into the the tense and contorted body of the princess. In a flash, the princess' arms grew soft again and she relented her assault and her cursing. Rather than striking Daryas, her hand came down and rested softly upon his cheek. Mityai at last looked upon her charge with eyes of flesh and blood. Every sensation of mortal concern rushed into her mind, filling her with feelings and passions that had not had power over her for many thousands of years. In that moment she felt the rough cheek of the Galvahirne with her soft han
d. Once more stunned, Daryas at last let go of her wrists. Mityai put her fingers through his dark hair, a smile passed over Leonara's face. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply. She felt his hand upon her shoulders as his grip changed slowly from restraint to embrace. He put his hand upon her face and Mityai felt his fingers upon her cheek as though she was once again one of the mortals. For a few moments she stood there in his arms, wishing it could last an eternity. Daryas looked into her eyes, and a feeling of terror clutched her. This could not be her place, she realized. She did not want to haunt the bodies of the living, clinging to every sensation, passing from one to the next each time their lives expired. 'I am no goddess,' she said within herself, and resolved to abandon the body of flesh and take up her mantle of emptiness once again.
Her last sensation was that of sadness; a tear fell from her cheek, sliding down to her lip and falling to the floor. In that instant the mind of Leonara was revealed to her in its entirety, from her infancy up to that very moment. More tears came as Mityai wept for the princess of Amlaman. 'You must help me,' she told Daryas, speaking the heart of the princess. 'But you cannot help me as yet. You must return to me without any shadow of wickedness within you. Return to me, my love, and bring no evil thing with you. Then only can I be free of this madness. Return to me,' she said once more. She released her grip and passed from the body of Leonara, falling to the ground in sorrow and anguish at the suffering of these two mortal souls.
As she lay there the last hint of Leonara's tear dried, and the surface of the mirror became unclouded. The darkness returned to Leonara's eyes.
Daryas fled from the room with a heavy heart and a swirling head. Horns now blared in the distance, summoned by the sound of the Siren's scream. Even as he reached the bottom of the tower he encountered several of the Nunnery guards, each armed with spears. 'Halt!' they commanded, but he dashed past them, knocking two of them to the ground. In the courtyard he could see many guards pouring in through the southern entrances, among them went Lord Belran, captain of the guard, and Reonus the eunuch. Among their number still was Farachie, the servant of the old High Priest.
These rushed toward him with weapons drawn and torches held aloft. No more illusion hung upon Daryas' eyes; he saw death in every corner of that Nunnery. Several guards were coming across the slender bridge that he had used to cross the Meretris. He met them at the end and kicked them into one another and into the cold waters of the stream. He rushed to the west, dodging a few arrows and then charging through the guards at the door, knocking them down with a blow from his fists. As he fought his way out, he proved himself in every way a son of Galvahir, bold in strategy, powerful in motion, unstoppable in flight. Only the swift legs of Farachie could overtake him.
With drawn sword, Farachie confronted Daryas just to the northwest of the Nunnery. 'None shall treat so lightly with the princess of Amlaman and escape alive!' he shouted in anger.
'Do not waylay, me,' Daryas said, 'For I have not the heart to show you mercy.'
'Nevertheless,' Farachie said brandishing his blade. Daryas rushed at him and grabbed his sword from his hand, casting him to the ground.
'Be it known,' Daryas said with great anger, 'that I harmed not the Siren.' He cast Farachie's sword into the ground at his feet and darted away. Farachie struggled to his feet and looked out to the west. He saw Daryas leap astride Novai and charge away like a bolt of lightning into the west.
The reason the guards were not present when the young Galvahirne arrived is because they had all been summoned to the Temple by the new King of Amlaman. They were charged with the task of bringing Princess Leonara before him without delay. For just prior to this, King Volthamir had begun his descent into the Valley. But he was halted after he had taken no more than ten steps northward. A voice thundered from afar, forbidding him, 'Son of darkness, come not nigh, lest you wish to be consumed. For I am Evna, and against me none shall prevail. This girl I have claimed for myself; never again shall you or any other brutish man make her suffer.'
Volthamir tried to press on northward despite this warning, but Agonistes refused to allow him, taking control of his thoughts, saying, 'Fool, do you not know when it is a god that speaks to you?'
'I do not fear the gods,' Volthamir said angrily, 'I do not fear to go down into the Valley.'
Nevertheless, Agonistes would not relent and his hold on Voltahimr's mind prevailed. Volthamir summoned the guards to his side and ordered them to bring the princess to him, since he could not go down into the Valley himself - of course, he did not tell them this.
His men, much to their dismay, soon discovered that they also had no power over the strange goddess. They came down in a group of ten, armed with their weapons and with the seal of the king in their hands, saying, 'Open, Leonara thasa Amlaman, in the name of the king!' When she answered not they hurried back to tell Volthamir.
'Fools!' he shouted at them, 'I told you to bring her, not invite her. When the high priest summons, I am told, every idle deed is set aside. How much more, then, should she come when bidden by the king?'
Their second attempt proved no better and they returned to the king as before.
These men were set in bonds and another group of men were sent, this time along with Reonus, who was charged to give a full account to the king upon their return. He explained the matter thus: 'My king, we knocked upon the door of Leonara, urging her to obey your commands. But she opened the door and laughed as she told us, 'You are nothing but shadows, and shadows cannot bring or summon, carry or coerce.'
'And you abandoned your task because of this?' the king thundered.
'I must confess, my King,' Reonos said bowing low, 'that it seemed more reasonable when she stood before us.'
Finally Belran, captain of the guard was commanded to bring the Princess to the temple himself. But again she refused, sending Belran, the mighty warrior, back empty handed and with this message, 'To whom does the sun bow down in worship? Come to me without shadow, thyself, oh mighty king, and I will go to you. But what is there within you but shadow? And for what is shadow but to frighten the weak?'
Evna now ruled the Nunnery of Agonistes, and by no manner of threats or punishments could Volthamir get the princess to be brought to him. To add to his frustration, it was at this very instant that her terrible screams were heard. He rushed into the wooded valley, but was forced back by the power of Evna, forced to watch his soldiers and guards charge down in his stead. He cursed Agonistes, the first of many such cursings.
By some subtle but inconquerable power the princess remained unharmed and untroubled by the King of Amlaman, who had already gone through so much toil out of his great desire for her. 'I will have her,' he swore, 'whatever gods beset me.' Then, as though he could see the future, he added, 'But if not, then I shall see the blood of the one that mocks me.'
The Doom of Mityai
The goddess Evna, who had taken dominion of the valley of the virgins and within the mind of the princess alike, found Mityai in the same state in which she lay upon leaving the body of Leonara; distressed and broken-hearted. Without a word the mighty goddess took her by the back of the neck and, lifting her high off the ground, she broke the ghostly bones of her neck and, with a laugh, cast her from the Nunnery, her shattered body swirling through the stones of the tower and through the whirling wind outside, coming to rest in the forest. There her broken body lay, and in anguish of soul she could do nothing but mourn, though no tears came from her eyes. When she released the body of the princess, all such abilities were surrendered.
In this state she was soon discovered by the spirit Cheru, who had long ago been sent to bring her back to the judgment of Pelas. Looking upon her with pitiless eyes, the mighty slayer of Amro pierced her through the stomach with his mighty spear and, taking the word of Pelas more literally than it was meant, he dragged her more than three hundred leagues to the Temple of Pelas atop the hill of Dadron, to be judged by the god of Falsis.
No words did Pelas speak, he
gave her one look and then, shaking his head with disgust, took her broken throat and cast her with all his might deep into the earth, where she vanished from sight, memory and hope. She fell league after league into the darkness, until at last she burst through the lifeless rock into the lake of flame, even that lake from whose fires all the volcanos and fiery cracks of the earth are fed. There she lay, in torment of soul, helpless and alone. For no other spirit, save for Aonistes himself, had ever been thrust so deep into hell as was she. For the wrath of Pelas was great and his heart was turned against her. Her eyes gazed upon the fire in that place and she wished in her heart that it could consume her and end her suffering. But, as it was, there would be no end to her immortal sorrows.