Chapter IV:
Coronan Revisited
Daruvis
After several days had passed Daryas and Rahdmus came to the place where the last encampment of Cheftan Faros now lay in ruin. It had been abandoned by the Army of Galva, plundered by the spies of Ponteris and ravaged by wild animals. Even now, as the two men approached, there were several small childish creatures rummaging through what refuse yet remained. These took to flight as soon as they caught sight of the travelers, running from the camp with bundles of cloth and hands full of trinkets.
'Are there yet goblins in this land?' Daryas asked with surprise. 'I would not have thought that they would have returned so swiftly to the place wherein they met so sound a defeat.'
Rahdmus laughed and said, 'It has now been almost five years since the army of Galva marched, and how old must these goblins have been then? They would not remember that war any more than you would remember the fall of Luma, or the burning of the wooded realm of the Mortari.
'Besides,' he continued, 'Even as men are of different races and kindreds, so also are the goblins of different breeds and tribes. These are goblins of Coronan, not of the northern Daunrys from whence the army that assailed Noras was originated. You should know, son of Biron, that I know these things because it was I who led this army into the east.'
Daryas was silent for a moment as he wrestled with his emotions.
'I will not blame you if you find nothing within you but hatred toward me; but know that the one you hated was slain, and what remains of me is the work of Paley alone, parading my corpse about you might almost say, attaining righteous ends through a means that once was naught but evil. Take comfort, then, in knowing that what I am now I am much to my own shame, and as long as I am alive I spit in my own face as it were. And when at last I am dead, I will trouble the world no longer. I know that I have caused you no small amount of pain.'
'Who are you?' Daryas demanded with anger in his eyes.
'As I have told you before, I am the one who was once called Daruvis, and I was heir of Lord Falruvis of Dadron. In that mighty city I reigned with my father for an age, but in the end I brought about its ruin.'
'That much I know already,' Daryas said, 'But I wish to know why? To what end have you so wickedly dealt with the world?'
Rahdmus was silent for a long time. After a while he stopped and pointed to the ground. 'Do you see that print?'
Daryas looked close to the ground and there he could make out what appeared to be the print of a small child. 'Yes, it must be from one of those goblins.'
'Indeed, and what, do you suppose, would become of any who sought to harm this small one? Would not the wrath of the parents fall upon them swiftly?'
'Yes, of course,' Daryas answered.
'What is it about the young and the innocent that excite within us such passion? What would not a father do to save his child? What would not a father do to avenge him?'
Daryas said nothing, but noticed a deep sorrow in the eyes of his companion.
That evening they made no fire. They did not want to draw any attention to themselves, knowing from the children they had seen that there must be some encampment of goblins close by. But the darkness seemed to ease the tension that had arisen earlier, and Rahdmus, when the last of the day's light was extinguished, began to speak of his own history:
'In the ancient world Falruvis was a mighty warrior. Such was his might that even those who are deemed gods feared him. In those days, Pelas and Agonistes were lords of a great kingdom, and they ruled over it as flesh and blood; not as the frail spirits they have become. The fathers of the elves, and by that I mean those traditionally held to be the fathers of the elves, were every one of them servants of these two gods. Falruvis and his cousin Solruvis (they were not brothers, despite the legends), Dalta and Morta (who bore no relation to each other whatsoever), and Bralahi along with his brother Kolohi were but vassals of these greater lords. And there were a great many other lords beside them, all serving either Pelas or Agonistes.
'Those were the days of the Immortals, when the undying, through their ancient cunning, ruled over the entire known world. To this day I can still remember the warmth of Lord Pelas' hand when he would greet us in his palace, even as I can recall the coldness with which his brother met us. 'This one looks like trouble,' he told my father with a grin when I was first introduced to him (this was when I was a very small boy). But truer words were never spoken.
'When I became an adult, I fell in love with a woman named Nashai-ne-malia, a name which meant, 'bearing no darkness', though her hair was darker than a moonless night. She was the youngest daughter of Lord Morta, whom my father hated. Morta, alone among us at the time, pitied the mortals, but he was too weak of will to openly oppose the other Immortals. It was against my father's will and counsel that I wed my beloved, and it drove a wedge between he and me, that would last through many ages of the world. But I was too strong willed, as you can imagine, to let my father's qualms rob me of my love. I took her to wife despite his objections, and soon afterwards she bore a son, whom we called Durivis. And what a boy he was! He was strong and smart, and loyal and caring. He had Morta's heart and Falruvis' nobility. If he.... if he had only lived to see adulthood I do not doubt he would have become greater than all the other Immortals.
'In the midst of our dominion, and in the height of our luxury, an emissary came to us. I do not doubt that it must have been one of Paley's kindred. He spoke of one who my father referred to as the 'Ancient King', and of our duties to him. He warned us, that if we would not end our oppression over mankind by our own will, our oppression would, within that very same year, be ended by some other means. 'The immortals,' he said, 'were brought into this world through evil, and to evil they will always go, until they seek the pardon of their lord, for all the ills they have caused.'
'Furthermore, we were told, if we refused, a sentence of death would be pronounced upon all of us, from the highest to the lowest. 'From the mountain of Joiken, waters will come, sinking all your foul land beneath it. If you will not repent, your fate will come upon you ere the spring comes again. Nor should any thought be given to escaping your fate. All that will do is prolong your sentence, and make your damnation more sure. More time, to the wicked man, is only a deeper pit into which he will pour all the more filth and evil.'
'I confess I understood very little of this at the time, being too preoccupied with my new family. In all things I took my father's word to be truth. And he had told us not to worry ourselves; for Lord Pelas was thought to be god over all.'
'The dragons came at the time they had promised, and laid waste to all the realms of the Immortals. What indestructible brutes! What fierce gods of gods, they were! It is not surprising that to so many of the elves the Northern world of Bel Albor is known as the Land of Serpents, or even, as some have called it, hell. What was not destroyed by these dragons was destroyed in a great deluge, which rent the world in twain, burying all our great kingdoms under icy waters. It is said that the sight of those ruined cities by men diving in the cold northern waters that gave rise to the stories of those creatures that are called Aguians or Mermen.
'My father was too proud to repent, as he was advised, but also too prudent to leave the warning of the dragons wholly unheeded. He prepared a great many boats and rafts, by which those who were able might flee from the terror that fell upon us.
'My parents and their children, my brothers Teluvis and Maruvis, along with my sisters Sama and Kala, escaped the north on a great ship such as only the skill of the Immortals at their height could have managed. With us came also the wife of Teluvis and his three children, and also many others who were loyal to my father, including the aforementioned lords of the elves, save for Morta, who managed his own escape by some other means. My own little family, however, was not aboard this great vessel. My father, with a face of stone, told me how he had seen them devoured by one of the gods, and how he had seen the life of Durivis extinguished even as
his body was set alight by the heated breath of one of those demons.
'I spoke not a word the entire journey, and through whatever perils we sailed ere we landed in Illmaria, I lent no assistance. I was like a dead man, and none would speak to me.
'Our coming to Tel Arie marks the beginning of elven history, and with that you are familiar enough that it would be superfluous for me to recount it all. After I had thoroughly grieved for my son and for my beloved wife, I once more took up my place at my father's side. From this point the histories that have been handed down in Dadron are accurate enough, though it must never be forgotten that they were penned by elven hands.
'It was not long after our arrival, however, that the gods first began to appear among us. The spirits of half-slain Immortals began to wash ashore. First Pelas, then his brother, and finally, a whole host of invisible souls, stripped from their bodies and sentenced to dwell in Tel Arie until the time of their judgment. Knowing his loyalty, Pelas sought out my father, who was very quick to see the advantage of a renewed alliance. Having always at his side a pair of unseen eyes and at his command a host of invisible spies, my father soon rose above the wild inhabitants of this land, and even above his own kindred. But only to the high elves did he ever reveal this secret, and only those who had been in the Old World could see those whose flesh had been stripped away.
'For many ages of the world I fought my father's wars, whether in Olgrost on open plains or in Lapulia, in dark tunnels, and even in Kharku, the land of the dwarves. For the sake of Dadron I poured out all my soul and strength, hoping we could make for ourselves a more certain future than we had in the North.
'But Pelas is a treacherous god, with an ever changing mind. At times he was loyal to my father, knowing that without his sharp elven eyes, he would have no power over men whatsoever. For what can a spirit do to a man, when that man can neither see him nor sense him? At other times, however, he plotted against him, saying, 'This fool was once worthy only to lick my boots, but now he fancies himself my lord. Who is it that is king over all the spirits of the dead?'
'On two occasions Pelas endeavored to turn me against my father, offering me great rewards if I would overthrow him and take his place. Knowing him to be powerless, I ignored him, and set my will all the more toward the service of Dadron. Indeed, Pelas had his part in Morta's rebellion, promising him victory over Falruvis. But when Morta, under the name of Xanthur, led all the world of mortals against our city, I descended from the mountains with an army of goblins and a host of dwarves in my train. We so utterly defeated them that we were perfectly at liberty to invent whatever tale we would concerning the end of the Arbori Wars. We said that, by the power of the Naming Stone, we had summoned the dragons and Aggelos from the North. Thus Pelas' ambitions against Falruvis were subdued, and he returned to his side, feigning loyalty, and biding his time once more. All this while I said nothing to my father of Pelas' designs, for I was growing proud and strong willed, and began seriously to consider what Pelas had long ago suggested.
'Nearly three hundred years passed, and the rivalry of Pelas against his brother revived itself. The brothers had, after many invisible wars and contests, divided Weldera into two regions. Agonistes made himself lord over all the land west of the Coronan Mountains, leaving Pelas to reign over what lay to the east. But in the year 2084, the Noras, as they made their way west into the forest that now bears their name, became enthralled by a devil king, who carried within himself the spirit and wisdom of Agonistes. This outrage so affected Pelas that he set all his will toward the rescue of your thick-skinned ancestors. In that hour his heart was turned away from the elves and toward the Noras. He hoped, in his folly, that their short lives would make them more grateful for his wisdom. What happened, however, is that the Noras, being unable to hear or see so much as a shadow of Pelas, depended entirely upon teachers from Dadron for their doctrines. In the end, Pelas skulked back to Dadron and to Falruvis' side, realizing that it was only in the fact that the elves could still perceive the spirits that they had rule over anything more than dreams and fevers. This, I apprehend, you understand well enough. Much to his frustration, the Noras proved to be more faithful to Dadron than any other mortal kindred. This was despite even the fact that Dadron had stayed sealed and silent through the Titalo invasion, when Knarsemen from the east ravaged the mortals of Falsis.
'Now desperate to overthrow my father, Pelas came to me once more. But this time he carried on his lips a dark secret. With this secret he betrayed my father and thereby doomed the greater part of the elves to a grim death and an eternal exile. He told me what had happened to my son.'
'Lord Falruvis, seeing that the dragons were at hand, locked the chamber in which slept my dear wife, Nashai-ne-malia, and my poor son. The dragons cast down the towers and the waters rose above their ruin, burying them beneath the ocean. At first I dismissed this tale as a sorry lie, and a sad attempt to bring about a rebellion. But as I pondered it, and as I poured through my father's records, it soon became clear that it was no mere creation of the treacherous spirit's mind. For my father's written account of those days contradicted, in many ways, the tale he had originally told me when, in haste, he informed me of the fate of my wife and son.
'I learned, a little while after, that there was yet living in Luma one of my father's old servants, who had accompanied him on his flight from the dragons. From him I exacted the full tale, receiving along with it a great many excuses and justifications. He spoke of a prophecy about the seed of Morta bringing about Lord Falruvis' death, as though that would calm the wrath of the boy's father! Falruvis left my son to die, because of a prophecy! As if any prophecy, properly so called, could be averted by such devious means! But in that hour my father submitted himself to Lord Folly, who rules over all living things at one time or another, and made himself worthy of the destruction that would, thousands of years later, fall upon him.
'In that hour I swore to bring death upon my father's head, and upon any who would withstand me. My father's old servant howled with anger, accusing me, saying, 'What then? Shall you bring chaos to Dadron, and unlease all havoc upon elfendom?'
'If any withstand me in my revenge,' I swore, 'I shall be the Lord of Havoc, and a god of chaos to the elves!'
'The elf took up his blade to slay me, but I killed him easily, the first of the Argent elves to be slain by one of his own kind, but far from the last. When at last my full scheme had been fulfilled, Dadron stood in flames, and the fathers of the Noras tribes lay dead, betrayed by my own hand. All those who withstood me, whosoever they were, I slew without mercy, taking their loyalty to Falruvis to be proof enough of their desert. It is true, Daryas Galvahirne, before you stands he who slew Lord Galvahir himself, and a contest like no other it was, though now is not the time to speak of it.
In the end, however, before I could set my hands upon that ancient stone, which is called in legend, the Naming Stone, even as I entered the Temple of Pelas to attain it, I was opposed by Lord Solruvis, along with a great host of elves. I took to flight, and left behind me that great power, trusting that neither man nor elf could break the seal that Falruvis had set upon it. Only he, and I with him, knew its secret hiding place. Only we knew how to retrieve it. Thus I left it outside of my grasp, knowing that no other could lay their hands upon it.
'To this end was all my exertion directed; to regain that power which I, as son of Falruvis, once possessed. As for the stone itself, there were two keys that locked it in its place. One of these keys belonged to my father, and has since become an heirloom of the Lord of Dadron, though it is worthless on its own. The other key was hidden away in a place only known to myself.'
After all this Daryas sat still and silent, not knowing how to respond. At length he asked, 'You spoke before as though this stone was a fiction, but now you say it is real?'
'Indeed, and it does nearly what the legends tell. It is a gem of such size and beauty that one cannot look upon it without desiring it. To the goblins the draw i
s irresistible and there is nothing they will not do for even a glimpse of the stone. With it, one might easily drag all goblindom about by the nose, to war, to work, to labor in mines, to conquer foes, whatsoever you will, they will see to it, if only they be promised another glimpse of the stone. To possess this stone, Daryas, is to be a Hobgoblin of the greatest might and power.'
'But to what end did you seek the stone anew? When your revenge had already been satisfied?'
'Revenge can never be satisfied, Daryas, not in this life, nor in the next. Revenge is meant to be an act of justice, creating a balance where once an injury has been inflicted. But who can undo violence by violence? He who seeks justice must inflict injustice, and in all his deeds he will never regain that which was lost. In my wrath I was driven at last even to forsake justice itself, and I swore to make cold the blood of every elf in death. Those pretentious liars, thought I, have for too long poisoned the world. Dadron lay in ruins, Solsis in the shadows, Dalta under the heel of Marin, Kolohi under brambles in Olgrost, but yet one remained. Bralahi, last of the high elves, yet reigns in Malgier, from a mountain no man can approach. Once I had regained Dadron, I thought, I would have an eternity to plot my last adversary's defeat. But now I see that it is not yet the hour of Bralahi's doom, and I no longer have the right to seek his blood.'
The Plan
That night, as Daryas slumbered in troubled dreams, Rahdmus kept watch, staring with keen immortal eyes into the darkness. When about half the night was spent, a light seemed to spring from the peak of Mount Coronan. Rahdmus stood and looked at it with squinting eyes, 'What is this?' but ere he could say more the light burst into a leaping tongue of flame and struck him, it seemed, in the face, blinding him. All he could see in that moment was a great brightness, such that even as he shut his eyes, he could not bear the pain.
'Daruvis,' a voice said.
'Paley?' Rahdmus answered. 'What is it master?'
'I know what you would do, Daruvis,' the voice said.
Rahdmus stood silent for a while and then sighed, 'And what hope have we otherwise?'
'You forget, Daruvis, that you are no longer a mighty man, and you are no longer called to mighty deeds.'
'What shall I do then?' he grumbled, 'Shall I let this little one suffer, whom I have already wronged in so many ways? Shall I let my own pupil oppress half the continent? Shall I let the unjust bathe the land in blood?'
To this the luminous Paley answered nothing. So long they stood silent that Rahdmus began almost to think that he was dead or that he had been blinded and rendered senseless. When he could bear it no longer, he sighed and asked, 'Is it not wickedness to oppress the poor and slay the innocent?'
'Indeed it is,' Paley replied, breaking his long silence.
'Then oughtn't I prevent such things where I may?'
'No,' Paley answered, 'that is not what you have been sent to do.'
'But have I not been sent for good, and is it not good to bring down the wicked, even as I have been brought low?'
'It is good to do such,' Paley answered. 'But it is not for you.'
'I don't understand!'
'It is good to do, but it is not for you to do. Whoever said that it was in Rahdmus' hands that the keeping of justice has been entrusted? Whoever said that justice belongs to man at all?'
Rahdmus grew silent, still not understanding the words of Paley.
'Shall you take upon yourself my work as well, master elf?' Paley asked. 'I am sent at times, to slay the mighty serpents that live in the deep places of the ocean, lest they grow too large or too bold to permit men to sail across their waters. Shall you descend to the depths to carry out my commission? Or will you fly to the heavens, where the sun burns hot and fierce, to take your turn guarding those spirits who have sinned against the Eternal God? Surely it is good to keep safe the waters for men's passage, and surely it is good for the wicked to be bound in flame, kept away from the world they would otherwise fiercely oppress. Will you not, therefore, do all these things as well? But nay, Rahdmus, these are not your tasks. It is in doing what he ought, that a man is good, not in doing what another ought. It may be good to bring justice to Ramlos and Amlaman, and it will be done, but it is not your task. To step out of your own path, and to set your feet where another is meant to labor, is presumptuousness. Moreover, to do so would be a great error; and as you know well, no error is without consequence.'
'Then I am still bound to bring no harm to any living creature?'
'Indeed,' Paley answered, 'You are as I am, a messenger, but you are no longer a warrior.'
'You know as well as I,' Rahdmus said in one final plea, 'how strong is my arm, and how swift my blade. I could yet protect many innocent men from the hands of the wicked.'
'Do you think that I am not stronger than you? Or do you not know that I can summon to my side a host of such as have given your people nightmares for all these ages? Lay aside all thought of the sword, Rahdmus, for the Eternal Lord needs not what little strength you think yourself to possess. Remember, moreover, whence all power comes.'
Paley set his hand upon Rahdmus' shoulder and a peace came over him, 'You know what you must do, then, with your father's treasure, which you have at long last attained from the Lord of Dadron?'
'I do, and I will,' Rahdmus said with a sigh.
'Be content with your station, Rahdmus,' Paley said as the light vanished from the mountain, 'For even your present calling is a work of grace. If the Eternal Power had need of your mighty arm, he would not hesitate to command it; but in the meanwhile, to take it upon yourself to make war and to fight evil would be nothing more than the adding of folly to ignorance.'
With those words the light left the mountain and Rahdmus found himself in complete darkness. When morning came, the two men resumed their journey. Daryas knew nothing of what had passed in the night, but he said, 'I have not slept with such peace in many years.'
Bones
The sky was gray and dim on the day that they came to the place where the final battle had been fought between the Army of Galva and the goblins. Cold rain poured down upon them, as if the sky itself wept for all those who had perished. With mixed feelings Daryas passed through that place, shedding many tears for his fallen countrymen. Bones, stripped of all flesh and color, lay strewn about the mountain like so many worthless pebbles. But each one of these one bore the weight of a man or at least a dumb goblin. Daryas in his sorrowful state of mind wept for them both.
'What was the use of all this?' he asked as they found shelter beneath an overhanging rock. 'To what end all this death?'
'Who knows,' Rahdmus said somberly, 'who knows if it serves any end at all.'
'That is a strange thing to say, for one who deems himself a prophet. And a strange thing to say for one whose own ends fueled the fire that burned these men to ash.'
Rahdmus turned to him and answered sharply, 'I never deemed myself to be a prophet; I have been made one, and made so not for my own sake. Who knows what purpose such things serve. Can you see the end from the beginning? Can you see the end at all? What can we say, when we have not yet witnessed the whole production? Can we guess what the painter will create, while he mixes his pigment and his oil? It is not until the work is finished that we can judge his work. Nor can we judge whether what he has made is good or bad until we see the pattern emerging. A line here, a blotch of color there, a stroke of red, a spot of blue, who knows what they will form, or if they will form anything until they see the lines come together, or fail to do so.'
'I wish that this never happened,' Daryas said, 'What end is worth this death?'
'Perhaps an end in which our happiness is not concerned. But that makes it no less worthy an end. What I have learned, and what has taken me the longest to learn, is that we have not been made for the sake of our own happiness. I too, Daryas, wish things had been otherwise. I wish I could have lived in the opulent world of Bel Albor for all eternity, loving my dear wife and son, enriching myself through the labors of morta
l men. But in the end that world was swallowed up by the sea.
'The will of the Eternal One is like a mighty wheel that rolls across this earth. Those who make themselves a part of that wheel, and ease its passage will find themselves, if not happy, at least righteous. Those who set themselves against that wheel will be ground to powder beneath it. It isn't fair, Daryas, of course, but nobody ever said the world was fair.'
'It should be fair,' Daryas quipped.
'Should? For what? You know as well as I that such words cannot be used lightly. Justice has its purpose, and that purpose is the survival of mankind. But mankind has a purpose too, and that transcends even justice. Justice is the concern of man to man, but the Eternal One owes us not even the next breath, let alone equality and satisfaction.
'But let me speak of your earlier question,' Rahdmus said, as though he had just remembered something. 'You say that you wish that things had gone otherwise. Indeed, so do all men. But that is the work of their imagination alone. You know as well as I that the same cause creates the same effect, time and time again, and with such consistency that men, by understanding such causes, can make for themselves engines, tools and weapons of war. Who would trust in the sword at their side if it could not be counted upon to act against their enemies in the same manner each time? If it were not for the consistency of causes and their effects, who would dare shoot an arrow from a bow. How would one know that the shaft would not just as soon find itself shot through their own heart as their enemy's? We trust material things to behave themselves, and to do so without even the slightest alteration.
'Take the example of the heavens above, and consider their emptiness. In Lapulia, where the magicians dwell, it is taught that the void of the heavens and their dead vacuousness proves that man is a mere accident; something unimportant and meaningless. But remember that all these things, the stars, the world, and everything else, must have at one time or another, some cause of their being. Now, to have the effect we see, I mean, for the world to be, that cause had to be just exactly as it was and no different. Had it been different, who knows but that the world would be different or even that the world could not have been at all. In order to have the world, then, you must leave the cause just as it is. To take away the void of the heavenly realms, then, is to take away their cause, which, in turn, is to take away the world. To have a world at all it might be necessary to have the deathly silence of the black heavens.
Who knows what all these deaths mean? Who knows what the suffering of the world may be meant for, and what might be lost if were to take it away. Casting aside the world we cast aside also the future, which no man can judge. Have a care, Daryas, when you wish for things to have been otherwise than they are; you can never guess what might be changed. We are much like the pigments of a painter, Daryas, and I imagine the pigments, as they are ground up and mixed together with great vigor, understand their purpose no more than we. But the discomfort of the pigments makes the painting no less beautiful and the colors no less useful in the end.'