Chapter I:
The Daughter of Ele
The Poem
When Marin Fortress was at last destroyed, and when an end was made to the royal heir, a poem was discovered written across the back of Marin's throne. It was nothing in comparison to the works of the elves, who for many ages had nothing better to do with themselves than wrestle with words and rhymes. It might have been the work of a student for all that can be said of its quality. But nonetheless it has been shown by some of our scholars to have originated, at least in part, long before the Marin Quendom was established.
Though Marin herself (and here I speak of the office of Queen, and not the person herself) has always interpreted these passages as referring symbolically to herself, it is clear to those who have not altogether forgotten history (and here I speak of the Lapulians) that the poem was written in honor of Dalia, the mother of she who was first called by the name Marin.
The poem has become somewhat well known, but the verses thereof have not yet been fully explained. That being the case, I will, in this present work, give an exposition of each line of the poem, describing the events such as history has retained for us. This will serve two purposes: Firstly, it has direct bearing upon the story already begun - of how the gods came to rule in Weldera, and how Pelas rose to the seat from which he would rule over Bel Albor for some three-thousand years. Secondly, it will serve as a fitting memorial for the people of Marin, who are, as a nation, destroyed, and as a people, abused and forsaken, having lost their kingdom and culture now nearly a hundred years ago.
There are surely some among us who will not appreciate this work, and who will condemn it out of hand for putting in a somewhat better light the forbears of a people who have, lately, been reviled and cursed. I needn't remind Lapulians, however, that with the exception of the Great Welderan War, our own people were as often mired in conspiracy and subterfuge as Marin Quendom - and too often it was with Marin that our own nation conspired. If hypocrisy is the greatest of sins, as the author of the Wars of Weldera has, in his second book, suggested, then those men of Lapulia who bring down the gavel in judgment against Marin do so to the detriment of their own skulls - for a gavel must strike something. They judge themselves when, in the matter they judge, they make themselves indistinguishable from those against whom they rant and rage.
The poem is called 'Dalele Marinea' in the tongue of the elves, but is known among mortals by the title, 'Dalia the Mariner'. To hide its relation to the elvish histories, the people of Marin changed the name of Pelas to Palsen, which signifies one weak of spirit.
It reads as follows:
Hear now the tale of Dalele Marinea!
How she did take her lover's place,
When fell he into sad disgrace,
Wealth and fame did he lack in full,
Yet she chose not another soul.
In peril their deep love was tried,
His injured body; injured pride,
The man in pain lay thus broken,
To her lord he gave no token.
To save their love did she set sail,
That joy over pain would prevail,
To satisfy her father's will,
While her beloved yet lay ill.
Thus she sailed south to Tel Arie,
Knowing not her fate it would be,
To mother the bold Queen thereof,
By a wicked man she'd never love.
Lord Palsen did she four times save,
When Folly lured him toward the grave,
By cunning mind and mighty arm,
She spared him from many a harm.
When dark Lapul was roused to fight,
Her great skill put their fleet to flight,
Back into their harbor to mourn,
Their faces white, their heads forlorn,
When first the Serpent did they find,
Dalele left not a soul behind,
But bled red blood that they might be,
Saved from the master of the sea.
When creatures strange assailed the fleet,
She shrunk not from a daring feat,
But with a fatal dwarf-steel spear,
Taught the water-born beasts to fear.
And when at last they faced their Foe,
When mighty men in boats did row,
She did not cow'r as others might,
But leapt from deck in black of night.
Naught but sea between her and death,
She struggled till her final breath,
Did all but leave her breast at last,
Yet to the beast she held on fast.
Her blade sunk deep in scaly mesh,
Water turned red from wounded flesh,
Dalele had slain her fearsome foe,
His carcass sunk beneath the flow.
These deeds won her a rich reward,
In honor of her mighty sword,
Wealth and riches enough to pay,
The demand which on her lover lay.
To her lover's arms she returned,
To find his passion bright still burned,
Then swore they their eternal love,
Beneath the starry host above.
And when in ages later came,
Fell Vantu to defile her name,
Her lover, filled with mournful ire,
Slew him, his sword a vengeful fire.
Though lovers both have gone away,
The stars above still hold their sway,
Over the land on which they fought,
And by their trials true love wrought.
Tel Arie of Old
The southern world; the world out of which mankind (and elvenkind also) first came was almost completely ignored by the people of Bel Albor. Most in Alwan, both elves and men alike, were completely ignorant concerning the land and its inhabitants. Comically, the high elves in the days of Lord Parganas were not altogether unlike the men of Falsis prior to the Weldera War and the rise of the Nihlihirna philosophy. They knew only what lay within their borders, and nothing of the people beyond their lands. Moreover, the doctrines of Lord Parganas were such that discovery and exploration were discouraged, lest by investigating the world his own doctrines and histories would be overthrown.
Sunlan had some established trade routes whereby tales from as far off as Kharku made their way into their shores. But their sailors never traveled farther than Olgrost and Vestron, which in those days was more hospitable to merchant ships. It was not until at least a thousand years after the destruction of Bel Albor that the northern coast of that land was given over to goblins and pirates.
It is a tale lost to time in its entirety, how Amro's father came to learn his craft among the dwarves of Kharku.
The elves of Sunlan certainly knew of Lapulia; and they knew enough, for the most part, to keep to themselves.
Not having lived in Sunlan long enough to fully grasp the gravity of this circumstance, Pelas, as we shall see in due time, made the mistake of first sailing southwest along the coast of Olgrost.
The northern lands of Tel Arie were much closer one to another in those days. What is now Kollun Isle was then simply the westernmost bulge of Olgrost, the western border of which was the Noth sea. This sea was fed by many rivers, the greatest of which was the Nele, which was comparable to the Fulani of Solsis in its girth - if our scholars are correct about its dimensions. This river flowed north through western Olgrost from a mountain that has since sunk beneath the ocean – or so our sages say. It is along the path of this river that our scholars believe the split between Olgrost and Kollun was affected. Beyond the source of the Nele lay a vast ocean, called the Soth Sea by the inhabitants of Dominas.
Beginning in the West:
Ere the sundering of the earth, Weldera was unmarred by any mountains or heights. Where Dadron hill now stands there was a great crater, which was the result of some ancient calamity now long forgotten, if ever its ori
gin was known. The wicked men of Weldera, who dwelt there long before the Noras, used to toss their children therein, thinking that they were, by so doing, feeding Arie (the earth) and ensuring its fertility. They called the crater 'Tel Arie', which, literally translated means, 'The mouth of the Earth'. How this term came to refer to all the land from Weldera to Kharku, I cannot but guess. It would seem that some ancient elf explorers (and there were many such people, despite elvish pretensions) must have witnessed their brutal display and, as they fled back to safer lands, reported that the whole land was peopled by the devil worshippers of Tel Arie. Certainly some such thing occurred, however, as it was with Bel Albor's ignorant inhabitants that this misnomer originated; the people of 'Tel Arie' had each their own names for their lands and for the whole of the world.
The Coronan Mountains did not exist, and the whole land between Falsis and Zyprion was one great wood. Some say the Mountains of Desset stood even as they stand now, but there is little reason to think such was the case.
The Marchers of Olgrost, who have come to rule the world it would seem, say this is the case, for according to their philosophy they must find some way to make the dwarves into descendants of men, and it would not do to have, as all evidence suggests, the dwarves originating in the south and only making their way into the north little by little.
In the days of Pelas there was no division between the Zyprion, the Heyan and the Noras forest - it was all one great wood. The volcanic eruption that eventually did create the Desset Mountains is, in all likelihood, the event that first sundered the Heyan-Noras wood from the Zyprion, and is therefore the explanation of how the two more recent divisions are more like one another than they are like Zyprion in the west. This fiery eruption essentially created the land that is now called Amlaman.
The southern portion of Zyprion, as it passed into Illmaria, was inhabited by many fantastic animals, all of which were hunted to the death by the elves when at last they conquered the western lands of Tel Arie.
This land became increasingly barren as it went southward until it came the festering swamps of Gilwela, named by Bralohi himself after Gilwel in old Bel Albor. Beyond Gilwela was the land of Malgiat, the mystery of which even the Lapulians in all our wisdom have yet to uncover.
In the east:
Olgrost was, as Weldera was, one undivided territory, covered from end to end by immense forests. The word for tree, in fact, in the ancient tongue of Dominas, was 'Olg', from whence is derived both Olger (signifying 'many trees') and Olgrost ('ost' meaning, literally, 'the host of', but more understandably, 'The land of' or 'land that hosts').
The Zoor Mountains were, as our forefathers have recorded, much higher in those days, but much less expansive. It was only after the catastrophe of Bel Albor that they, having fallen over on top of themselves, became the sprawling ruin of a mountain range that they are at present. Either way, whether they be high or long, they have ever served to guard Lapulia against the barbarous tribes of Olgrost, be they of Marin, the Ohhari, Vestron, Harz or Merkata. The dwarves who now dwell there came only to live in that region after the wars of Xanthur. Before the Catastrophe it is uncertain whether any dwarves dwelt outside of Kharku. Goblins, however, dwelt wherever there was food and water.
South of Zoor!
South of Zoor is the land of Dominas, so named because it was fated, our ancestors thought, to rule over all the world. But a full description of Lapulia itself, and its peculiar history, must find itself in another place. For now, I restrict myself to a description of the land.
The Zoor mountains have kept Dominas safe from the warlike people of Olgrost and Vestron alike. South of these is a land of gentle hills and lush forests, broken in the east by the Sernaga River. East of this river lies the land of Snakil, where the superstition dragon worshippers live. Some have speculated that it was from among these people that the Merkata were originated.
In the center of the land lies the forest of Nandor, which is nourished by the Harz River. It is from this forest that the Harz Nobles left for Vestron to conquer the Ohhari. During the age with which we are concerned they were yet a clan of simple warriors living in the deepest parts of the Nandor forest. One war and one war only was waged between Lapulia and Nandor, and the result was such that no man of that forest ever again took a weapon in hand against our cities.
The men of Snakil, on the other hand, were never quite able to learn the lesson their western neighbors came to understand. And the Lapulians have had many a war with them as a result. These wars, with the exception of the war which gave rise to Czylost, universally ended badly for the people of Snakil.
Built along the eastern coast of Dominas, some two hundred leagues from the foothills of Zoor, is the city of Lapulia, that center of learning and wisdom, and of wisdom so-called. Towering above the city is the Magic Tower, atop which lives and rules the High Mage, who watches over mankind and who seeks to understand, insofar as it is possible, all things.
South of Lapulia there was a great rise in the land, so that from the south Lapulia was well protected. This terrain was augmented by a great many fortresses and towers, walls and barracks, all of which made Lapulia virtually unapproachable except along the Wissen Road, which entered the city from the east. South of this fortified land the terrain became more gentle and a long stretch of farmlands and woodlands dotted the country, finally coming to an end at the Soth sea, where Dominas came to an end altogether.
Beyond the Soth lay Kharku, of which no map yet speaks the full truth.
All of these lands were known by the elves of Bel Albor as the Deathlands, so named for the fate of their inhabitants.
Thuruvis
Among those who made the journey to Sunlan from Alwan was a young elf named Thuruvis. He was in some distant way a relative of Ruvis, though none have ever accurately explained their relation. He traveled in the caravan of Lohi, when he answered the summons of his sons to Sunlan. He was a quiet young man, at the time no more than thirty years old - in the reckoning of the elves he was a mere youth. He worked hard, however, and eventually found himself serving the household of Dalta in Centan.
He was as skilled with a spear and sword as he was with a plough and a pen. In this way he became useful wherever he happened to be sent. His hair was golden, like unto the people of Sunlan. He was tall and strong, but his countenance was always somber and his spirit was quiet and diminished. For this reason his masters frequently thought that he was one easily taken advantage of. And to an extent, this was the case. He would not tolerate abuse, however. During the time that the elves of Alwan and Ilvas dwelt in Sunlan, he did very little of import, slowly making his way from one master to another, sometimes being highly praised and other times being sent away as something just slightly better than a criminal.
At last, nearly twelve years before Pelas sailed from Sunlan, he was hired by the servants of Dalta as a swordsman, and placed among the warriors in Centan. He eventually was given command over a small group of soldiers, and ordered to patrol certain portions of the Esse River. When he proved to be a competant leader he was given a larger band and send to the Talon mountains to aid Agonas in his campaign against the goblins. He returned from the Talons with the highest praise from Agonas himself, and was presented to Dalta as one deserving greater honors. It was then, when he was brought before Dalta, that he was first noticed by Dalia, the daughter of Ele.
For the next several years he served as a guard at Dalta's own residence. He was given the duty of training warriors for battle in the Talons as well as preparing them for work along the borders. He was put in charge not only of the mortal servants of Sunlan, but also over many other elves.
Dalia loved him from the very first moment she laid her eyes upon him. There was something so dignified in his manner, she thought; in the way he was proud but not arrogant, and how he was intelligent but not loud of speech.
The last thing Thuruvis thought he needed, however, was trouble wit
h his employer. If he had noticed Dalia's attentions, he would have requested a position in the Talon mountains with Agonas, or asked to be sent to the Esse to guard the crossings. For a full year he labored in Centan, training men to fight and managing the guard at Centan ere he realized that his master's daughter loved him. By that time he had come to find her quite beautiful and he found himself quite unable to do that which he would earlier have deemed wisest. He avoided her as much as possible, but was still constrained to render her some degree of honor and courtesy. But each honorable word and each gesture of politeness only seemed to make her love grow deeper, and make her affection more obvious.
When he was nearby, he noticed, doors would not open for her, burdens would become too heavy, and riddles would be too difficult for her.
'Thuruvis!' she would call to him with a smile.
'What is your desire, my lady?' he replied, as the servants were trained to respond.
'I have lost my sandal,' she might say, sheepishly.
Thuruvis would then set aside whatever else had occupied him and attend to her needs.
'It was not so lost as you have imagined, my lady,' he said, coming as close to chastising her as he dared. The sandal was simply beneath a footstool. His frustration only seemed to endear him to her. Eventually he gave up all hope of driving her away.
Still, he knew that he could not have her, for she was the daughter of a High Elf, as all the chief servants of Pelas were known to those of Ilvas and Alwan. In this way the servants of Pelas and of Agonas retained their identity even within their new environment.
When this frustration became too great for him to bear he turned upon her and took her hands into his own. She pulled away from his grip at first, frightened by his sudden show of passion. But he would not relent until she pried his fingers from her wrists. She slapped his cheek, but so strong was he that his face did not turn and he did not flinch - she might as well have struck a statue of bronze.
'There,' he said, 'you are not so helpless as you pretend, Lady Dalele.'
'I should say not!' she said fiercely. 'I am the daughter of Dalta, the dark elf of Ilvas, and I have Amro the mighty smith for a kinsman.'
'Yet you struggle with a basket of apples,' Thuruvis said with a severe voice. 'So that, on three occasions you have needed my assistance to bear your burden.'
'How dare you!' she said with anger, but a tear dripped down her face.
Thuruvis' heart melted within him at the sight of her tears. He sighed, and took her hands again, this time gently. 'My lady,' he began, 'You do me a disservice.'
She swallowed hard, looking ashamed.
'You know that I cannot marry you,' he said. 'I am a servant and a warrior, not a High Elf. I have never seen Ilvas, and I have never so much as set eyes upon the Lord Pelas, who is your father's master.'
She drew near to him and kissed him upon the lips, grasping his cheeks in her hand. He did not resist her, but he stood still and silent, not wishing to do her any dishonor.
'Will you refuse to kiss me?' she demanded. 'Though you are but a servant?'
Thuruvis grew angry. 'Should I kiss my master's daughter? When it is he who gives me both bed and bread? Shall I take more than my wages, stealing away what is most precious to him? Have I rendered services to him such that my reward should be so great? How should lord Dalta look upon me, if I was such a man?'
She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hand to stop her. 'Moreover,' he continued, 'I will not be drawn to your bosom by any other power than your love. If you wish for me to be your lover, then never call me a servant again. If a servant I must remain, then honor requires of you that you leave me in peace, and do not tempt my passions any further.'
'Love me, then,' she said, bursting into tears, 'And I shall become the servant, and your equal.'
'Nay, my lady,' he said softly. 'I cannot accept such a godly gift. For I cannot receive your hand from lord Dalta, and I would not steal you away like a barbarian - to live as a barbarian too. For no man can steal the daughter of a High Elf without incurring the wrath of Pelas and Agonas. I HAVE seen Agonas, and I cannot cross him.'
Hope of Marriage
After this encounter, Dalia withdrew somewhat from Thuruvis for a time. He was sent to Agonas again in the Talons, and for a brief time he was sent to the Great Lake of Brost in the south. As it was in all other things, he soon mastered the art of sailing and was recommended to Lord Pelas himself as a suitable captain. When he was asked whether he wished to travel to Evnai or no, he chose to stay in Centan. For he could not be parted from Dalia, though they had scarcely spoken since the time of their confrontation.
When she heard how he refused the offer to sail in one of Lord Pelas' fleets, however, she sought him out and kissed him deeply, even as she had kissed him before. Now, having come nearly to the end of his strength, he put his arm around her waist and returned her affection.
Though it lasted but a moment, and though they both fully decided within themselves that it was foolishness, a human servant saw their embrace, and gossiped until the rumor came to lord Dalta's own ears.
Dalia, upon hearing what had transpired, let loose such fury that Dalta became convinced that the servant had lied, and hung her the next morning. Nevertheless, from that day forth he was suspicious of Thuruvis, and did everything in his power to keep him occupied in places where he knew his daughter would not go.
Six times was the hand of Dalia sought by men of great renown. Unijan himself asked after her, admiring her ebony hair - a rarity in golden Sunlan. Falruvis, also, made an attempt to persuade Dalta to marry her to him. This Dalia refused politely, and Dalta thought little of it at the time. But when she refused also the advances of Cheru, Oblis and Ginat alike, he became concerned for her reputation. 'With each suitor you turn away,' he warned her, 'you only increase the peril of begging your hand. For few men will risk their reputations for such odds as these.'
Nevertheless, she held fast to her state, not willing to have any other mate than he whom she loved. But as time wore on, the possibility of marriage seemed only to grow more distant. Dalta spoke of sending him to the utter north to guard the marches against goblins, or to giving him a position in the court of Ijjan himself.
In tears she came to him, and begged in all earnestness to take her away, that they might live together. 'Even if we should flee to Alwan, or to the south. There are many elves who have fled the north for the sake of love or for the sake of freedom.'
'But, my lady,' he said, smiling, and wiping the tears one by one from her cheeks. 'She who must have servants bear her bread baskets and water pitchers cannot hope to survive more than a week in the fearsome southern world.'
She looked ashamed. Thuruvis reacted immediately. 'Forgive me, my lady,' he said, kneeling on the ground. 'I spoke rashly.'
'But truly,' she said, disappointment in her face.
Thuruvis rose abruptly. 'No,' he insisted. 'I was being cruel. It is not so. You are the daughter of Ele and of Dalta, and you have within you blood more regal than any king of the south, and more noble than many kings of the north.' He paused there, thinking that perhaps he had said something careless concerning his masters. But her eyes revealed that she was not offended, but rather filled with adoration and, he thought, confidence. 'My lady could do anything she wished to do,' he continued. 'It is appropriate that I am a servant; for I am nothing. But you, daughter of heaven, your fate shall be something to behold!'
When it was newsed abroad that Lord Pelas would be sailing, and Lord Agonas with him, to pursue the phantoms of Ijjan's dark dreams, Dalia was filled with excitement. 'They shall want sailors,' she told her beloved. 'And my father cannot refuse to send you; if his master has need of you.'
Even as she had predicted, Lord Pelas soon sent word to his servants that any elf of Ilvas who would sail with him would be rewarded richly.
Lord Dalta himself, however, was commanded to remain in Centan. 'I would not h
ave all our mighty men make this journey,' Agonas had told him. 'We do not want to look as if we are one people, moving in unison. In that way we will pass forgotten into history, lost like a drop of rain in the sea.'
The Wound
Thuruvis came before Lord Dalta with his head held high, and with his shoulders straightened.
Dalta noticed his posture at once. 'You are looking well, Thuruvis,' he said, in a polite but distant tone. 'What do you wish of your master?' he asked, sitting up in his chair.
'I am come to beg your leave to go to Evnai and to sail with your lord, Pelas and with his brother Agonas,' he answered, with a strength of voice none had ever heard from him before.
Dalia, who sat near her father, wrestled with a tiny wrinkle in her dress, and then looked at Thuruvis, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Dalta noticed her glance, though it lasted but an instant. And he looked knowingly upon Thuruvis.
'What would you do for the hand of Dalia my daughter?' he asked him, suddenly.
Thuruvis' confidence melted away in an instant, and he could scarcely bring himself to look upon Dalta, much less answer him. After a few moments had passed, he said, softly, 'Whatever is required of me, my lord.'
'You are given a good wage, am I correct?' Dalta said, confirming Thuruvis' wisdom in refusing the advances of Dalia in times past.
'I have no complaints, my lord - nay, I am grateful for all that your house has bestowed upon me.'
'My daughter is fated for the arms of a nobleman,' he said coldly. 'But do not despair,' he said with cruelty in his voice, 'for, though men are born noble and ignoble, there must be some who become noble during the course of their lives. Else, how could there be any nobility at all?'
Thuruvis said nothing.
'Lord Pelas has promised a great fortune to any elf of Ilvas that should accompany him. As a servant of Lohi, even as I once was, you are entitled to this opportunity.' He paused and then, with a cruel grin said, 'Return to me with tenfold what Pelas offers, and I shall still refuse you. My daughter is more precious to me than gold. I shall not part with her, therefore, unless you bring me gold such that it would, when placed upon a scale, lift her from the ground.'
Dalia rose from her seat in anger.
'Sit!' Dalta snapped at her, and he looked menacingly at Thuruvis.
Dalia obeyed, closing her lips and looking upon the scene with great angst.
'I will do it,' Thuruvis said, 'or I shall perish in the attempt.'
Dalta had hoped that by asking such an impossible task of him, he would provoke him to anger, and have some ground for refusing to let him travel to Evnai to serve Pelas. 'There is but one more thing I wish of thee,' he said.
'Name it, my lord,' Thuruvis said proudly. 'And I shall do it.'
'I shall not send anyone to my lord Pelas that I do not deem to be worthy with a blade.' He rose from his seat.
'Surely my lord has seen that I have skill with the blade,' Thuruvis reminded him.
'Perhaps,' Dalta drew his own blade. 'Come, let us see how skillful you are.'
Reluctantly, Thuruvis drew his sword and faced his master. At first he thought that Dalta would merely test his skill with the sword, and see whether or not he knew the proper forms of combat. This being on his mind, he was not overly concerned. He believed, for the first several blows, that his master tried his skill out of duty, and not because he had any reason to doubt his abilities. 'I have proved myself a hundred times over,' he thought to himself as he parried several attacks. But when he saw the ferocity in Dalta's face, and felt the force behind his strokes, he began to understand his opponent's intentions.
'He means to humiliate me,' Thuruvis thought. Dalta struck again at him, but Thuruvis turned his blade aside, and noticed that, had he swung his blade further, he could have disarmed his foe. The duel continued, Dalta trying to break down Thuruvis' defenses, while Thuruvis waited for him to make the same mistake once more.
An opportunity came, but Thuruvis hesitated. 'If I humiliate him, surely he will not give his daughter to me.' So the duel continued, Thuruvis hoping only that Dalta would tire of the fight and deem him worthy to sail with Lord Pelas. Dalta knocked aside his blade and cut him across the shoulder. He drew back and lowered his sword, thinking that Dalta would relent at the sight of blood. But Dalta took advantage of his carelessness and lunged forward, piercing Thuruvis in the shoulder. Thuruvis dropped his sword and fell to his knees. A stroke fell across his face, tearing open the skin on his cheek. Blood poured from his wound and dripped down his neck. He rose, lifting his sword and once again defending himself; this time fearing for his life. But as he continued to fight, now in great agony, he realized that he could win only by wounding his enemy. But to do so would sunder him from any hope of Dalia's hand. Dalta lunged at him wildly, and he caught Dalta's blade with his own, twisted it, but halted. He looked into Dalta's eyes to make sure that his master understood - he had the might and means to disarm him, to slay or to humiliate him. But instead, he dropped his own blade, as if Dalta's attack had done to him what he might have done.
His own forbearance seemed only to magnify Dalta's ire. The master of Centan hacked off three fingers from Thuruvis' left hand and then thrust his blade into his foot. Thuruvis fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his wounded hand.
'You are not worthy,' Dalta said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned and walked away.
Dalia stood there with her hands covering her face in horror.
Dalta passed her by without a word and vanished from the hall.
Some of the guards rushed forward and lifted the wounded elf from the ground, hurrying him to the apartment of the physician Onroa, who served the master of Centan.
Onroa's Apartment
When Thuruvis awoke, he found that he was in a soft bed with a down cushion under his head. His wounds were bound, but his body was in great anguish. He tried to move, but the increase in pain was more than he could bear.
'Do not push yourself,' a soft voice whispered.
'Where am I?' Thuruvis demanded.
'You are yet in the fortress of lord Dalta, howbeit, in a more amenable section thereof.'
'Who are you?' Thuruvis said, and then, remembering what had happened, he asked in a more urgent tone, 'How long have I been sleeping?'
'I am Onroa, the healer of Centan,' the voice replied. 'You are being well cared for.'
'How long have I slept?' Thuruvis demanded again.
Onroa sighed, 'It has been two days.'
Thuruvis again attempted to move, but Onroa's strong hands held him on his bed. Thuruvis cried out as both his own motions and the exertions of the healer sent waves of agony through his body. 'You will tear the stitches,' Onroa warned. 'You suffered some terrible wounds,' Onroa said disapprovingly. 'It is a cruel thing lord Dalta has done to you. I trust, of course, that of all people you will keep my judgment to yourself.'
Thuruvis hissed out a quick laugh. 'You needn't fear that I shall rush to tattle on you, master healer.' He had the voice of one who had no hope. 'What of the lady Dalele? Where is she?'
'She,' Onroa hesitated, 'has gone to see her father.'
'What do you mean, healer?' Thuruvis asked.
'She has tried now on three occasions to visit with you, but a guard is at the door. Dalta will not let her enter.'
This time Thuruvis actually managed to bear the pain as he rose from his bed and stood on his feet.
Onroa looked at him in amazement for a moment.
As he made to take a step his legs gave out and he fell with a cry into Onroa's arms. The pain overcame him and he knew no more until that evening, when he opened his eyes to the dim light of a flickering candle.
'What is going to happen?' Thuruvis said. 'What of Lord Pelas? When will he depart?'
'I know little of Lord Pelas and his plans,' Onroa answered. 'But I think he means to depart from Evnai in a month's time.'
'How long shall I take in h
ealing,' Thuruvis asked, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. He knew already that it would far exceed the time remaining.
Onroa saw his anguish, and said in a quiet voice, 'You know already that you shall not be on that ship. It will take you many months to heal, and it will be perhaps more than a year before you can take up the sword again.'
Thuruvis struggled to swallow; his eyes teared, but he fought back his sorrow. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, his chest feeling as if it would burst open for its sadness. 'So it must be.'
The Word of Lord Dalta
'My father is a man of his word?' Dalia asked as she followed her father down a passage of the fortress.
'He is,' Dalta confirmed. He had taught Thuruvis a lesson, and spared the usurper's life, yet his daughter insisted upon bringing the unpleasant episode to mind again and again. He had warned her when last they spoke, however, never to speak of Thuruvis again. Now she pestered him with meaningless questions, it seemed, as if she might revenge herself upon him in this way.
'In my youth you said to me, "But ask, and ever I shall answer you."
'I did,' Dalta sighed. 'Sweet Dalele.'
'Then answer me now, father,' she continued, 'You said that you would not send any to lord Pelas that was unworthy with a blade.'
Dalta growled, knowing that she was still troubling him about Thuruvis. 'Yes, so I spoke.'
'But who then shall you send? For Lord Pelas desires strong and mighty warriors.'
'The worthy,' he said coldly, 'and not those who would sneak in through the back door untested, untried.'
'But those who prove themselves, you would send?' Dalia queried.
'Yes,' Dalta answered.
'Is this your final word, to which you will add no more? You will send those who prove themselves with the sword, and prove themselves in contest with you?'
'I will,' he said.
'And any who do so?'
'Any,' Dalta said, growing tired of her questions.
Dalia paused for a moment, and then rushed away from him, hurrying through the passages of the fortress.
It was not until he was assembled with his chief servants later in the evening that she returned to him, this time with a sword girt about her waist. She paused before the door and drew in a deep breath. She thrust open the door and approached her father boldly. She had much of her mother's grace and timidity, and for this reason the whole room fell silent - no man knowing what to make of this marvel.
'I will go to Pelas,' she said, drawing her blade and extending the point toward her father.
He grinned for a moment, thinking it was a jest, but when he saw the ferocity in her eyes his face became like a stone.
'How dare you put a blade toward me!' he said.
'I will go to Pelas,' she repeated.
Remembering her words he rose from his seat. Every eye was upon him as he walked toward his daughter. 'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded in a loud voice.
'I am here to be tested, to see if I am worthy to serve lord Pelas!'
'Nonsense!' Dalta laughed, 'You are a woman!'
'Indeed I am,' she said, 'You are as perceptive as you are honest, my lord.' She curtsied, still bearing the sword in one hand. The gesture was so comical that several of the servants of Dalta laughed. Dalia smiled wryly.
'You will not speak to me in this manner, Dalta said, his face red with anger. 'I shall decide who I send to my master.'
'And so you have; you have already made the decision - unless, you wish to change your words and speak now what you previously denied. You said you would send those who proved themselves against you with a blade. So I am here, test me now, lord Dalta!'
For a moment there was pain in his eyes, for he had never heard her speak his proper name. 'Thuruvis could not best me,' Dalta said. 'You are a fool if you think you, a woman, could do better, Dalele.'
Dalia raised her sword and spread her feet apart, preparing for a duel to which her father had not yet consented.
'This has naught to do with Thuruvis,' Dalia said with a cold voice.
'Is that, murder in her eyes?' Dalta thought within himself, but he said, 'I will prove you, daughter.' He stepped forward swiftly and slashed his sword at her blade. The force was so great that she nearly dropped her weapon. He put the blade to her throat. 'Now-' he began, but the sound of metal clashing with metal interrupted him. Dalia brought her own sword back against her father's blade, knocking it aside.
'I have already bested you,' he said with frustration.
'Hardly,' she said, and then she leapt forward, swinging with her full might toward his chest.
He cried out and leapt backward, realizing that she meant to strike him. Seeing the eyes of his servants he quickly regained control of the duel, parrying her every blow, and putting the blade first at her neck again, and also, another time, at her chest. But she would not relent, and merely laughed at his claim when he said, 'Again I have shown that I am the greater swordsman.'
'Nonsense,' she said, 'you cannot strike me.'
This was true, he thought to himself.
She battered against him relentlessly, until he realized that he would either have to contradict his own promise, slay his own daughter, or allow her to win. He could not retain the respect of his servants if he did the former, and he would die before he inflicted harm upon his own daughter. Finally he let his own blade fall to the ground with a clash. She put her sword to his neck.
'How is it, daughter,' he said, 'that when my blade threatens your life, you refuse to submit, but when it is your own blade, you expect me to do otherwise?'
'It is because your blade never threatened me, lord Dalta, however many times you point it at my neck. Yet mine,' and here she pressed the blade into his flesh, drawing blood from his neck and gasps of amazement from his servants, 'threatens your life in truth.'
'You are a woman, Dalele!' Dalta snarled, 'You cannot go to Lord Pelas!'
'You said 'Any',' Dalia retorted.
Seeing the eyes of his servants, Dalta relented. 'Very well,' he sighed, 'But Lord Pelas shall not permit you to sail, nor will your mother's kinsman, Amro the smith, allow you to put yourself in danger.'
'That, at least, is not your concern,' Dalia said. wiping the blood from her sword with a cloth. She turned and stormed from the room, rushing to the apartment of Onroa, where she, threatening the guard with her sword, gained entry.
'You cannot do this!' Thuruvis cried out in a hoarse voice when Dalia had told him her intentions.
'I must,' she replied, her eyes brimming with strength. 'It is the only way.'
'No, I would not have you come to harm - I would rather you forgot me and chose another.' He looked blankly at the wall, without emotion in his face.
I have not shadowed your movements all these years to have you abandon me for pride's sake. Nor have I rebelled against my own father so that you could sulk in bed.'
'I have died for you Dalele,' Thuruvis shouted. 'I have lost all; honor, hope, health! What more shall you take? Shall you take away my beloved, by losing her in the deeps of the sea?'
Dalia's eyes darkened, and she began to look afraid. 'I,' she began, 'I know it will not be easy. And Lord Pelas might forbid me; and Amro may prevent me - but what shall I do? I love you enough to kiss tragedy for your sake.'
'I have already kissed tragedy, and been wed thereto,' he said. 'For I know that I shall have no other partner.'
'Then you have changed,' she said with a toneless voice.
When he said nothing she continued, 'You once ridiculed me for asking you to bear what I could not bear. You said that I could do anything.'
When he saw her eyes, and the sadness therein, he sighed and lifted his hand to her cheek. 'I have not changed. Forgive me,' he said weakly. He breathed deeply and, remembering his old passion, said, 'Dalele, kin of mighty Amro, I believe that you can do what you have set out to do. I only wish that you did not need to, or that you did not love me so that you
would not desire it. But that is but selfishness; for I wish not to lose you. If you love me, broken as I am, enough to risk death for my sake, then I ought to be grateful rather than fearful.'
'Send me with a kind word, then, my beloved,' she said to him. 'And it shall be a shield to me through whatever perils I encounter.'
'Return to me, my love,' he said to her.