Chapter VIII:
Light and Shadow
Council
It was not long after we departed from the halls of that foolish Cheftan of Noras that we found it necessary to explain ourselves more fully to the exiles of Galva. After retrieving their horses, the four of us took the northern road, hoping thereby to come to Galva-la by the next morning. When we came near Lake Gavl we abandoned the road, lest the servants of Ponteris take interest in us. Thus we went into a wild and untamed country, where no man dwelt. Here the wolves howled and the bats fluttered, making the darkness teem with frightful sounds and the eerie flicker of night eyes. But in these parts there was little four grown men had to fear from the wild, and even less they had to fear if they built for themselves a roaring fire. When we had chosen a secluded spot, gathered some wood, and started up a blaze, the frightfulness of the night vanished entirely.
'We have met before,' Rahdmus said to the son of Biron, 'atop the mountain of Coronan. There we crossed swords, when still a sword I could bear.'
When it was revealed to Daryas just who this strange man was, he drew his sword and with a fire in his eyes said, 'How it is that you have escaped death I do not know, but you will not escape the son of Biron this time.'
Rahdmus bowed his head low and said, 'Truly, the son of Biron has the right to slay me. And even if I could bear a blade once more, I could not hope to overcome the mighty blood of Galvahir, whose strength runs yet undiluted in the veins of Biron's heirs. But you will find that revenge is unnecessary, for as you can see, I have already paid in blood.' With those words Rahdmus revealed to the exiles his deep wounds, which Paley had healed. 'I have been warned, that should I lift a blade to swat a flea, my wounds shall be restored to me, and death will follow ere my stroke should fall.'
At this Daryas seemed to calm down. Revere just stood as one amazed, not knowing what to make of these strange events. 'You spoke of my labors,' Daryas said, sheathing his sword. 'What do you know of my purpose? And how would the mighty enemy of Noras, the slayer of old Cheft Rahm the noble, help me?'
'Into your hands will be given great power,' he replied, 'First, power to save your people from the devils that beset them. Second, power to save yourself from darkness. But first an end must be made to old legends.'
'Power to save my people?' he said in disbelief, 'How can that be when so many foes encompass the walls of Dadron? Men and women from Olgrost, led by Ollitov himself it is told, have taken away the liberty of Daevaron. Moreover, it is said that among their numbers marches a devil of Vestron, a beast of great might. Glumbein, which is to say, 'Iron-Slayer', they call him, and many other dreadful things besides. Men from Amlaman will soon march into the east to join them in their siege. And to this is added the treachery of Ponteris whereby the strength of the Noras will be kept at bay. The Remnant of Galva, Dadron's last hope, is too small for us to put our confidence in. It could not hope to save Dadron even if it had at its command a dozen Dynamises and four hundred Daryases.'
'I said not that I could render your victory more probable,' the old knight said, 'For probability has meaning only to the mind. Whether or not you have hope within, hope remains.'
'Tell me, then,' Daryas said after some thought, 'tell me what I ought to do, if such words still have any meaning.'
'There is a sword, hidden within this very forest, which was made long ago to cleave the spirit of the Devil-King Agon. To take this blade in hand, however, is to call upon yourself a curse, for which no remedy can be given by mortal hands. This blade ought not be touched by he who is not worthy to wield it, yet wield it you must, whether you are worthy or not.'
'Worthy? Unworthy? The difference between the two I can scarcely recognize,' Daryas said despondently. 'Indeed, in these days men even as cunning as Sion have abandoned the old ways, taking the doctrines of Cheft Ponteris to heart. Who am I, but the lesser son of Biron? Who am I to oppose those who have been endowed with greater minds?'
'Do not give heed to his doctrines,' Revere said, shaking his head. 'For there is good in you enough, son of Biron.'
'I appreciate your words,' Daryas said, but then he lowered his eyes, 'and your kindness almost convinces me that they are true. But as with all things, you see from where you stand, only an appearance. I see more, though more still lies hidden from even me. Can any man know even his own heart? You do not know the darkness of my dreams, when evil lurks in the open and courage skulks about in the shadows. The doctrines of Ponteris, however ugly they are, may very well be true. In fact, I half hope they are, for they would be a great comfort to me. To know that I am not wicked for my weakness, and to know that what I speak in secret, and the darkness I hide within my heart might lie there hidden even in death; what greater hope is there to be found in this world than the hope of escaping the penalties of your sins in death? Pelas offers us nothing but law and judgment thereby. Ponteris destroys law, freeing men from fear and shame. The latter may be closer to happiness than the former.'
'The doctrines of Ponteris are not his own,' Rahdmus said, 'They were taught to him by me, when I still fancied myself to be mighty. But I spoke them in bold ignorance and rebellious bombast, not in truth and wisdom. But to men such as Cheft Ponteris bold words and novel ideas will pass for proof. You may be right, I should add, that his ways may be closer to happiness. That I have no reason to deny. But happiness has never made anything true.'
Rahdmus looked long at the fire ere he spoke again. 'Of the nature of worth I have but little to say, for I have less claim upon that ancient blade than you, though I remember the day of its forging well.' With that he lifted his eyes and looked to me.
Good and Evil
I began by saying:
'There once was a mighty king in Solsis called Agradis, who desired above all things to be at peace with his neighbors. He sent great gifts of gold and silver to them each in turn. He never neglected them in their times of trial and was always there to be a support.
'But nevertheless, his neighbors continually made provocations at him, crossing his borders at will, betraying covenants, and ensnaring and oppressing his people. Not wishing to go to war, King Agradis sent out to his neighbors two ambassadors. One was Mennos, a just man, equal in all his ways. The other was Zinglus, a passionate man, caring and thoughtful. These two set out together to bring the message of the King's desire for peace. The king ordered them to bring no swords or weapons with which to defend or attack. They were sent not to threaten war but to preserve peace.
'Mennos was sent to the southern city, while Zinglus was commanded to go to the northern. But when each man arrived in their respective locations they found that the men to whom they had been sent did not desire peace, but rather conquest, even of all the land over which King Agradis ruled. Many hard words did they, in that hour, speak against the King. Mennos, remembering his master's commandment, refused so much as to raise a finger in judgment against them. They mocked him and sent him away with cruel words and threats of war against his people.
'Zinglus had no better welcome in the north. But hearing such malicious words of hate directed toward his master, he was overcome with anger. In the dark of night he entered the chambers of the northern city and slew their lord and made a bold escape from the city, putting many of its mightiest men to shame. In due course the men arrived at Agradis' courts, each bearing the news of their adventures. Which of these two emissaries, Daryas, do you think the king welcomed with great compassion and kindness, and which do you think he sent away from his city, quartered and burned with fire?
Daryas looked at me with great confusion, 'My guess would be that the king slew Zinglus, who dishonored his commandment, and welcomed Mennos to his halls with gladness.'
'You guess well, son of Biron,' I said, 'The northern city was not appeased by the body of the emissary and they soon marched to war against Agradis. The southern kingdom, remembering with shame how they had treated their neighbor, came to his aid at the last moment and the northern kingdom was by
their mutual strength subdued for a time. Though it is not always so in the world, the righteousness of the good emissary was vindicated and the wickedness of the other demonstrated.
'What is good, but that which fulfills its purpose? And what is purpose, but the object of the will? What is it then that made Zinglus a devil of a servant? Is it not that he refused to heed his master's will? It is the will that determines what is right and good, and the will that abhors that which is wicked and evil. In this world there are many courses that are possible, but only the will can set one aside as greater than the other.'
'Is this not the very doctrine of Ponteris?' Daryas asked sincerely.
'Ponteris has within his grasp the form of Good and Evil only, namely, he knows that they are derived from the will, which is to say, from our desires and wishes. But he has only splashed at the water, he has not bathed in the stream.'
'Go on,' Daryas said, interestedly.
'To what do men appeal, when they make all their various kinds of arguments?'
'They make their appeals to Reason,' Revere responded.
'And Reason is simply a matter of saying what is said of a group of that which is contained therein. Of men it is said, 'they are creatures fated to perish with the brutes'. Add to this the fact that some individual is identified by the name 'man', and you have a proof of that individual's inevitable demise. But say of mankind, that 'they ought to be peaceful', and add to this that we are all men. It follows not from this that we are peaceful. One can only conclude what was said, which is that man ought to be peaceful. What moral truth, then, can ever be proven from this world, which gives to us only what is, and never what ought to be? For if all that we are given is what 'is', all we can ever conclude is what 'is'. You cannot derive, except by magic or by deceit - but certainly not by reason, what 'ought' to be from what is. This simple principle, overlooked by all, is the starting point for the ways and wisdom of the Nihlion, who have safeguarded this truth since the most ancient days. Good and evil will never be discoverable in the nature of the world.'
'Is this not a good fire that we see before us?' I asked after a brief pause.
Revere answered, 'It is good, for by it the beasts are kept at bay.'
'Which is the very purpose for which we set it. Indeed, we can see now just what the fool Cheftan means when he asks for that truth from which our 'oughts' are derived. In this case, it is our desire for warmth and security that binds our course to set a fire. It is as though we had said, "If we are to be safe from beasts in the night, then we have no choice but to make a fire and keep watch upon it. We 'ought' therefore, to make a fire." Why did old King Agradis feel it necessary to sent out emissaries? It was because he desired peace, and said to himself, "If I will have peace with my neighbors, then I must send my servants to inform them thereof." Good and Evil are judged by the will; this is the truth, but it also gives rise to great absurdity and contradiction. For what is good to one man may be evil to another. The fire, for instance, is not good for the wolves who haunt the woods in darkness, envying the flesh on our bones; for by it they are made to suffer want and hunger.'
'Every moment you sound more like that Cheftan,' Rahdmus laughed, 'But nonetheless, continue.'
'Good and evil, we have said, are determined by the will. There can be little doubt of that when once we have given the matter sufficient thought. It is to the hunter that an arrow is good, not to the deer it pierces. Likewise, hooks and lines serve the will of the fisherman, and are therefore good, but they serve not the will of the fish that dies thereon. To the wolf it is bad to set fires, but to man it is life. It is by will alone by which good and evil can be determined. The warrior will call good only that blade that swings straight and true, severing the flesh of his foes. That blade that shatters when struck or that bends when it ought to pierce will be cast aside ere the battle is fought. Will a man call a shoe good, if his foot is not contained within it?'
'I think you have sufficiently proven to me,' Daryas said with a smile, 'the dependence that good and evil have upon the will.'
'I cannot say it enough,' I answered, 'for in this truth lies the secret by which the righteous and the wicked are forever separated. Did not Zinglus, as he planned his fell deed, consider it to be right? Did he not think he did good? For it was in his heart to avenge his master's foes for their slander - and thus his wrath was brought against the lord of the northern city. But it was not by his will that he is to be judged. It is the will of his master, the king who elected to send him forth in his name, that will judge him. He was, in his own eyes, vindicated, but he was not an emissary for himself. Therefore, he was a wicked emissary, according to the purposes of the one who made him such. When we look about the world and see that serpents, goblins, men and dwarves alike have wills, it should not surprise us then that they war often upon one another. For what else can come to pass, when every creature acts according to his own wishes?
'This is why a traitor can be called a hero and a villain at once; a hero to those who he serves, and a villain to those he betrayed. It is according to the wills of each nation respectively that he is judged one or the other. Are not your enemies, the priests of Amlaman, called 'holy men' in Amlaman, and devil worshippers in your own land? And is it not the same for the priests of your god Pelas, who sacrifice unto him atop Dadron's Hill?
'Why then do men condemn one another so harshly? When they call others wicked, they say nothing more than that they like them not. But such sentiments speak more about the nature of the one who condemns, and says nothing about the nature of the one thereby condemned. In the eyes of another man the wicked man may find acceptance, and the righteous man, condemnation. The wicked man might declare himself righteous because he does what his own will requires, and in doing so he declares himself to be righteous on no worse grounds than all those that condemn him; namely, he does so on the basis of will, even as do his enemies.'
'We ought not be surprised,' Rahdmus said soberly, 'that even the most wicked of men often believe they have done right in all things.'
'Indeed,' I said. 'But to say simply that I do not like another man, is less than what men mean when they use the word evil. They mean to say that he is truly evil, that his wickedness cannot be removed by a mere change of stance or by a different point of view.'
'What then is to be done?' Revere asked. 'How can a man be judged then? How can he be bound with duties?'
'He might be bound by power,' Rahdmus suggested. 'For by fear of death and chains are many bound to their duties.'
'Indeed,' I answered. 'But such power is simply the will of another run amuck! In Kollun, if their democracy yet lives, it is the will of the majority that dominates and legislates, making the most popular opinions into laws. It is not more than mere opinion simply because it is the common opinion. In Marin it is the will of the Queen alone that has sway. Thus it is that at every succession there is a change in law; for the will of the queen varies from age to age. The threat of the civil power will mandate different duties according to the shifting wills and various moods of their ever-changing rulers. Man can be both good and evil at the same time. Or the wicked man may, at the death of one Queen, be made righteous at the ascent of another, supposing the latter to be of a different mind than the former. Power can give us a reason to act in one way or another, but it does not give good and evil a source other than that of human will. A man may, by king's order, burn a village to the ground for fear of punishment. That is what the king wishes, and insofar as the man wishes to avoid the wrath and condemnation of his king - he ought to obey them. But if he wishes to be good, not just in his own eyes, or in the eyes of his masters, then that which binds him must be from something more certain than the wandering will of the people or the will of their master.'
'How then can a man be good?' Daryas said, now seeming quite affected. 'You have said that a man must do what he is supposed to do? What do you mean by that? For it is a very simple thing to say; that man ought to do what he ought to do.'
'I say it not because it is difficult to understand. I say it because it is very easy to overlook when the whole world tosses words about carelessly, never taking thought to their meaning. What ought a man do? It is a sword for war, a hammer for the smith, an arrow for the archer; all of these things are judged by the will of he that imbues them with purpose - their maker. To be good,' I said, 'Man must do what he was made to do; he must do the will of his maker, and not the will of his contemporaries.'
'But how does a man know what is good and what is evil, then?' Revere asked, probably thinking about the matter for the first time in his whole life. 'For all that we know is presented to us as truths, but never as commands; we see what is, but not what ought to be.'
'You have given the answer already,' I answered. 'For if we know only what presents itself to us, we cannot know.'
Daryas just shook his head with great frustration, Rahdmus looked long and hard at the fire, and Revere straightened up and squinted his eyes at me. Finally, however, Rahdmus gave the answer, 'When knowledge fails you, Revere, then choice must take its place. If a man knew certainly what course of action would bring him the greatest joy, he would take that course without hesitation, even as a man swats a mosquito from his neck without thinking if there be some better way of ending his irritation. But when the causes and effects are beyond our power to predict, then we must make a choice. Is this not so?' he said, looking to me.
'You are correct,' I answered, 'The world gives us no hint one way or the other, so we must choose the path ourselves. The question, then, is not which path is correct - I mean, which path is correct in the way that a sentence may be true or false, but rather, what our choice says about us. For we are all equally ignorant, whether we admit it or not. But those who seize upon this ignorance and pretend that it is permission to do whatsoever they will, prove by their actions the great willfulness and selfishness that lies within their hearts. The Nihlion are those who have chosen the other path, and we, admitting our ignorance, lay our faces to the dirt and ask of heaven itself, 'What shall I do? For I am lost. Which of these two characters is most useful to the Eternal One I shall leave you to judge for yourself.'
'And what does He have for me to do?' Daryas asked.
'That is something that I cannot answer,' I said, 'for I am not a prophet.'
There was a long silence, but at last Rahdmus rose to his feet and said, 'The ancient devils, Pelas and Agonistes, have run from their Fate for long enough. Now is the time of their judgment; their mischief must be brought to an end. This is the word of the Eternal One.'
'And I am to accomplish this?' Daryas said with great surprise.
'Not alone,' Rahdmus said, 'for no man ever truly acts alone. It is the will of heaven that this be done, and it will be done, whether you play your part with honor or not.'
'Indeed,' I said, 'The world is the work of the Eternal One, and he will see to it that his ends are brought about. For he has, the Nihlion teach, a Guarantor for his labors.'
'Theodysus,' Rahdmus said.
'Theodysus,' I repeated, 'he who alone is righteous, and by whom alone is the world made righteous. Remember Daryas, in yourself you will find great evil, and also great good. But all your good and evil are born of your own will. Cease from all willfulness and you will find at last the power to escape the shadow in which you were born. In all your trials, Daryas, remember that name, Theodysus, and the star that is named for him; let it be a light to you and a comfort for your soul.'
Lord Havoc spoke again of his task, saying, 'You must take the Sword of Pelas, which your ancestor Galvahir bore, to Dadron, and let fate take care of the rest. But do not lose sight of this fact: The strife that now engulfs the whole continent of Weldera has but one purpose, to bring the ambitions of Pelas and his fell brother to naught.'
'And are the people just so many insects, to be squashed by the gods in their contests?' Revere complained.
'If that is the case, then it is the case, and no manner of complaining shall alter it, Revere, son of the east,' Rahdmus said loudly. 'I do not like it any more than you do,' he added, 'but remember, child, that no man can see all ends, and we cannot tell from where we stand whether or not it would be better for this present conflict to end immediately, or to play out as it shall. It is only he who has a view of the whole that can judge whether this or that part fulfills its role. And he must not only see the whole work, but also the pattern.'
Daryas said little more that night, but sat quietly in thought. In his mind echoed the voice of Leonara, saying, 'Return to me, my love, and bring no evil thing with you. Then only can I be free. Return to me.'
'My love,' Daryas thought to himself, 'She calls me her love.'
'And for that she is a fool above all other fools,' the fell voice of Evna came to him.
Daryas said nothing, but his heart swore to itself that he would free the woman to whom his heart was bound by fate from the dominion of that fell goddess who now tormented his mind from afar. 'Leonara, by doom itself I am tied to thee!' he wept, 'yet by choice also, for who upon earth is more lovely than you?'
He fell asleep dreaming of her golden hair, and all through the night he could hear the sound of her voice, singing sad songs from a great distance.
Cossa-la
Thus it came to pass that we began the northward journey to the land of the sons of Cossa, wherein the ancient sword of Pelas was said to have been hidden away. 'If all things have not turned upside down we might hope for a welcome among the kin of my mother,' Daryas said as they turned from the northward road to head west toward the darkest place in Noras. Shaded by the Coronan mountains both in the north and the south, the land of Cossa-la received less light than the rest of the forest. The trees here were hardy and tall, however, and the Cossirne supported themselves chiefly with the lumber thereof. They would send the wood down the Gavl River to Galva-la, from whence they received whatever goods their own land could not provide for them. The deer in Cossa-la were somewhat numerous, but there was little else to eat and little land for farming. The women of Cossa-la, it was often said in jest, would trade their firstborn for a cask of pepper or for a ripened piece of fruit. Of all the lands of Noras, Cossa-la suffered the most danger from the goblins of the Coronan Mountains. Consequently, though their own warriors were fierce and brave, they did not undervalue the friendship of the Galvahirne, nor would they suffer any servant of Ponteris to pass within their borders.
But though they might find here many allies, the exiles were hurried along by Rahdmus, who kept saying to them, 'If it is not done as it is commanded, then no amount of allies will avail you.' With great distress of spirit we marched on, Daryas and Revere still in the guise of furriers. As we broke camp on the twenty-fifth day of Florhus, the sky began to let fall, little by little, droplets of rain from the heavens. But by the end of that day it was as if we walked beneath a waterfall. Every step brought fresh discomfort to our already soaked feet. The horses liked it no better, shaking the water from their manes as though they were casting from their backs an unwanted rider. In this we traveled until we came at last to the Rilcos-la, a great labyrinth of rushing mountain streams. The waters from the high places of Coronan poured down into Cossa-la in rushing rapids, made deadly and fierce by the late spring rains. 'We cannot risk the rapids,' Daryas said, 'Not while we lead my brother's horse.'
'You worry for Novai?' Revere laughed. 'I trust Novai to swim the rapids with ease. It is the cleric I worry for,' he said, with a glance in my direction.
It was not until the seventh morning of Solest that we were able to make the crossing. The rivers had at last pushed their excess down to the Gavl Lake, and the stones that marked the crossings were once more visible. With some difficulty we came to the western shore of the Rilcos-la, from whence the Gavl River is born, and set our gaze to the north one more. Two days we climbed into the mountains and into the west, until we seemed to have come to the very deepest corner of Noras. This was a dark place, the mountains of th
e north and west loomed above us like menacing giants. To the east the trees of the forest were so tall that it seemed almost to be another mountain encircling us. But here, beside a small stream, we were surprised to find a large cave, opening into the mountain.
The place was called Agoslei, and it was the place in which at last, it is said, the hero Galvahir and his comrade Cossa battled the devil king Agon. Cossa lost, in that battle, his right arm. But he and Galvahir were able to wound their foe. Agonistes then fled from them and made as if he would return to his own land to heal. But much to his horror, the Nine heroes had not given up on their pursuit. They came against him again and slew both he and his High Priest, beginning that slow decline of his worship in the west, the culmination of which was the great neglect of Sten-Agoni.
'Here no man comes, nor does any spirit approach. It is both holy and profane,' Rahdmus said. 'It is holy because here lies the great sword of Pelas, about which so many tales have been told. This place is profane also, however, because here the blood of the devil king was spilled. But both of these, the holy and the profane, are only so in the eyes of the Noras. For Pelas is not a god.'
We drew near the entrance of the cave and peered inside. Naught could be seen but darkness. From within a cold wind seemed to arise, indicating its great size and depth. 'We are to go in there?' I asked, trying to conceal the fright in my voice.
Rahdmus laughed, 'No, the son of Biron is to go, and he will go alone.'
'Alone?' Daryas said with surprise.
'You do not wish to go alone?' Rahdmus said, almost as though he were surprised to hear him say such a thing.
Daryas stood there silent as the very stones of the mountain for a long while. At last he shook his head and said, 'I will go alone.'
'I would go with you if you desired it,' Rahdmus said. Revere said the same, as did I, though insincerely.
'No,' Daryas said, 'But I am thankful that you are of such a mind.'
'Beware, son of Galvahir,' Rahdmus said ere he left. 'That sword has been cursed by the one who rules the northern world. It will cut your enemies asunder, but also your own soul, if there is anything doubtful within you.'
The Old Shrine
A torch was prepared and Daryas, leaving behind him all that he deemed he would not need, stepped into the darkness and was lost to sight for an entire day. Revere was of half a mind to seek him out, but Rahdmus forbid it, saying, 'Daryas alone knows the dangers below, and none of us can help him face them.'
'What madness is this?' Revere asked. To this Rahdmus just shook his head.
After descending into the cave, Daryas first noticed that the walls were cut with tools and not by nature alone. When he had continued along this path for some time he came at length to a place where there stood a great door of stone. He thought he would be forced to abandon his quest and return to the surface, when all of a sudden, the stone itself cracked and fell to the ground. Whether this was a sign or whether it was a coincidence he could not say; the stone had at last given way to the laws of nature that had long beckoned it to fall - or perhaps it was brought down by some other power. When the dust cleared, Daryas stepped carefully through the doorway. Within he saw that there was a small shrine built. There were hooks upon the wall for the hanging of lamps and in one corner there seemed to be the remnant of an air shaft, though the rocks had caved in many years ago. But it was clear that, at some point in time, this place was visited on a regular basis. On one side of the room, whether it was north or south he could not tell, there was the remnant of what must have once been a marvelous statue of glistening white stone. It was a statue of a beautiful woman with a small child upon her lap. But her head had at some point fallen off and shattered upon the floor. He did not know why, but a tear entered into his eye as he looked upon the ruins of so beautiful a thing. 'I doubt not that the maiden herself has likewise passed into memory,' he thought. Whatever ruin had come to the mother, the child seemed to be perfectly intact.
Daryas continued beyond this room to another like it in shape, but filled with dusty scrolls and old books. He touched one of these with the tip of his finger, but it crumbled to dust in his hand. He was forced to use his sword to cut through the spiderwebs that grew in this room. At the far end of it there was what remained of a wooden door. He stepped through this and came to a long dark tunnel, the entrance of which was scarcely large enough for him to squeeze through. Almost without thinking, he hung his torch on a hook and climbed into the tiny hole, squeezing his whole body through. Inch by inch he crawled through that tunnel into the darkness until he almost came to believe that he had never known such a thing as sunlight, or any space wider than that dark place. But as he continued it became apparent from the coldness of the air and the ease of his descent that the tunnel was at last widening out.
The Mural
After many attempts, Daryas at last lit for himself another torch. This he nearly dropped at the first spark of light, for before him there stood a great wall of brilliant white stone, the reflection of which seemed to transform his small torch into the sun itself. On this stone wall there were carved figures and letters, such as Daryas could not comprehend. At the bottom of each an explanation was written in a very ancient form of the Noras script, of which Daryas knew very little.
There were twelve tablets altogether, set across four rows, and three deep. The letters on the highest of these he could not make out. But the pictures were well carved, and could be seen well enough from where he stood.
He took but a glance at these, and not in the order in which they were carved. But what he described I record in order here:
First there was what appeared to be a mountain with the sun rising behind it. Beneath this there was carved the image of a man and a woman facing, as if in battle, a great dragon, out of whose mouth poured what looked like water.
The tablet to the right of this one was filled with images of war and death. In the center of all this chaos, surrounded by the bodies of the slain, there stood seven great heroes with long swords and round shields.
Below the first stone there was a scene that seemed to be the departing of a son from his father's house. The son was arrayed in rich robes, and departed with light shining upon his face. But the father, nonetheless mourned.
All that could be read on the next tablet was, 'The ancient ones, who brought with them beauty and grief.' The image was of a mighty warrior, wielding a sword and scepter beneath which passed many frail forms of men. A crown was set upon his head and he seemed to almost float above the earth as one of the gods.
The next one said only 'The Twins', and on it was carved two figures, standing one upon the sun and the other upon the moon. Beneath the sun there was a fawn and under the moon a dark wolf. But these, the fawn and wolf, seemed to be in a different style of painting, which Daryas took to mean that they had been added to the picture in more recent age.
The rest of the images showed only more death and horror, ending with a striking image of a dragon and of a ship setting out to sail upon stormy seas. Beneath this he saw the old Noras word for 'Ghosts', but no connection could he discern between what was written and what was painted on the wall.
There was much more written and much more to be gleaned from these tablets than Daryas was able to recall or record at that time. Indeed, in later years this was discovered to be the case. But here is not the place for such things, as they would, I do not doubt, occupy a very large work themselves.
Lutrosis and the Sword
After he had tarried here as long as he dared, he made his way to the right of the mural and found at last a large room in which was placed, upon a stone table, a long sword unsheathed. The light of the flame seemed almost to be captured by the blade, rather than reflected, and the rest of the room seemed to vanish away in darkness. Daryas stood for a long while in awe of its beauty, for never had he seen a finer blade.
'A man of worth indeed,' came a voice out of the shadows. At this Daryas swung around and drew his swor
d. 'Who is there?' he demanded. No answer came. When he was at last fully convinced that it was his own mind deceiving him, he turned again to the table. But even as he reached his hand out toward the sword he felt once more that another stood beside him in the darkness. He took the sword in hand quickly, and a thunderous chuckle echoed throughout the chamber. He swung torch and sword about in frantic motions, seeking out the source of the dreadful laughter, but nothing could be discovered but the shifting form of his own shadow.
With each step he took toward the place he had entered, the laughter grew more horrible and cruel. He began to rush back toward the tunnel, now hoping to have the safety of those tight walls about him. But as he ran we found his feet were pulled out from beneath him, sending him falling on his face in the dark. His torch sputtered out and the darkness at last filled the whole place.
There he was overtaken by many foul dreams and tormented for a long time by visions of that witch Evna, who had taunted him so many times before. 'Little hope have you, son of Biron, to do what you have set out to do,' she seemed to laugh. But as he regained his wits, the voice seemed to change, sounding more like that which he had heard before in the darkness. When he had lain on the cold ground for what seemed like many days, he at last began to make as if he would leave this place forever. But ere he rose to his feet he saw before him cold green eyes, glowing in the darkness. He lifted his sword and rushed upon the creature with a great fury, such as only the sons of Biron can muster. But this was to no avail. He found his throat to be in the clutches of something much mightier than himself. It tore at his throat, reopening the wound he had received in the Nunnery of Agonistes many months before.
'Release me!' he pleaded, and much to his surprise, his assailant obeyed.
'It is but fair,' a cruel voice said, 'for how would it be if I had power over you, and you had naught to do against me?'
'Who are you?' Daryas shouted, clutching his neck in pain.
''That you know already,' the voice said. 'Or,' it seemed almost thoughtful, 'perhaps it may be that you do not know me.' A great laugh echoed again in the tunnel. 'You know me as well as you know anyone else, even better, I would say. But yet you know me not at all.' Again it laughed at his misery. 'A perfect contradiction, unseemly for one such as yourself, but yet perfect in its opposition. Still more perfect is it in its reality!'
'I don't know what you are saying!' Daryas said. 'If you are not wholly bereft of reason, then I would have you tell me for what purpose you have assailed me!'
'Purpose? For what purpose?' the voice laughed. 'I am to thee, purpose. I have ever been your master, and you have been naught but my slave, though you have hidden me well. Ever the sun shines upon your face, and ever I am hid behind you, so that no light ever shines upon me. When the sun is high, and there is no more place to hide, you improvise, sticking me under your feet even, as if I were a slave. But I am a slave driver, not a servant. And you are meant to serve me. From henceforth it shall be so. For you have set your hands upon that dread sword, that sword that sunders spirit from soul, dividing and cleaving all that it touches. Even as it will undoubtedly cleave many foes for you, against you it has also begun to work.'
'You speak madness,' Daryas said in frustration. 'And I have not time for this.' With that he began to feel his way in the darkness toward the place he had entered.
'Yet,' the voice said cruelly, 'You will learn that there is nothing so pressing or important that you will walk away from me as I speak.' With those words he grabbed Daryas by the back of the neck and hurled him against the wall. Daryas lifted his sword again.
'What exactly do you raise your sword against, Daryas? Will you cut me? Will you put an end to me, that being without whom you should not so much as draw breath?'
'Tell me who you are!'
'You will see ere the end, just who it is that I am,' the voice said. Now, give me that sword,' the voice wrested the blade from Daryas' hand and pushed him once more to the ground. By the light of the creature's glowing green eyes Daryas could see that the blade was now pointed at his own throat.
'For what would you slay me?' Daryas said weakly. 'I have committed no crime against you.'
'I will not slay you, Daryas,' the voice said calmly. 'As repugnant as it may be, you are as necessary to me as I to thee. But no longer shall you play the master. You have taken up the sword, and by it the truth shall be revealed in due course. From henceforth it shall be you that lurks in the dark shadows.'
With those words the creature struck him in the face once more with the hilt of the sword.
Daryas knew not how long he had lain there senseless. Scarcely could he recall what had taken place. But as soon as he awoke he heard a voice from behind him. 'Now, let us depart. I am weary of darkness, and there are many things that I wish to accomplish ere Death takes me.'
'It is good to know that you are mortal at least,' Daryas said, still in great confusion, 'That will be my great hope and comfort.'
The creature just laughed.
Sunlight
Much to Daryas' surprise, when he at last emerged from that dungeon, he found that there was not a scratch upon him. No trace of the beating he had taken appeared upon his face, though, he said, he felt it nonetheless. More surprising to him was the hour and day in which he returned. He felt as though it had been a whole week. Revere assured him that if it had been so long he would have died of thirst, 'You left your waterskin behind,' he chided him, 'A very foolish thing to do.'
At last the sword of Pelas, as it was called in the histories, was brought forth into the light of day. Even this light the blade seemed to steal away, darkening the forest around it. Upon its hilt there was an inscription, 'The blade's true name,' Rahdmus said. 'This is Tanak, one of the mighty Elf-blades. It is one of those precious blades that were, in ancient days, blessed, or cursed one might say, with the power of speech.'
'The blade speaks?' Daryas said.
'So it is said,' Rahdmus laughed. 'But we have not the time as of now to wait and listen, nor should we obey it should it begin barking out commands. We must go at once to Dadron, where the blade will be put to its final test.'
We left the very next morning, letting Daryas sleep for as long as he required. Then we made our way back across the Rilcos-la and began our descent into the south. Familiar all the roads now seemed to us, but when we at last set foot in Galva-la, Rahdmus asked, 'Son of Biron, which is the swiftest way to the Gavl lake?'
'I would say the river, but it is too shallow here to take to boats, nor could a boat be found that would bear our steeds in such waters.'
'Haste is needed, if your kinsman is to be spared alive. For within the beleaguered walls of Dadron he will soon grow impatient and hopeless, which is to say, madness will come upon him.'
'Beyond the falls of South Lake,' Daryas said, 'I would say the quickest way to Dadron would be by the river, but such things cannot now be trusted in.'
'Then you must go east, and ride through the Forsaken Fields of West Daeva, coming to Dadron from the Northwest. Otherwise, you will never make it to the city in time.'
'But what of the siege? It cannot be imagined that either side will simply let me enter the city unimpeded.'
'You will be coming to the city by a strange road,' Rahdmus said. 'A road known only to the Ancients.'
'And what about yourself?' Revere asked.
'We will only delay you,' he answered, 'But you must take to your horses and fly through the land of Noras, coming to the Forsaken Fields through the place called the Thicket, which lies between Dae-la and Lavri-la. You will find that a path has already been cleared for you.'
'I know the place well,' Revere answered. 'Though when last I set eyes upon it one could scarcely crawl their way through it their belly, let alone ride two horses through it.'
'Much has changed since the ascendency of Ponteris,' Rahdmus said, 'New roads have been made and old ones have fallen into disuse.'
'If there be a road there, will there not also
be guards?' Daryas asked.
'It is the main road through the most faithful of Ponteris' territories. They have little to fear from that land, and therefore little need for guards.'
'Very well,' Daryas said. 'Let us make our way to Dadron the Great.
Rahdmus gave them careful directions and told them all the signs by which they might come across that ancient road that leads beneath the Falsi River into the very heart of Dadron. 'Now make haste, the Spirits that rule over the destinies of men pursue Olver Galvahirne even as we speak. Though it may be that he has already fallen into the hands of the Lord of Folly.'