Chapter VI:
The Steelsmith
Of Sunlan
'Coming from the Far North,' Bralohi began his report, 'the Talon Mountains stretch from the edge of the eastern Esathann forest some one-hundred and eighty leagues. In the middle of Sunlan it divides into three long ranges, which, when mapped, resemble the talons of a great bird. Three rivers flow from these three talons, the Westalon, the Midthalon and the Estalon. The Westalon carves its path westward from the Talon Mountains, curving after some sixty leagues or so and finding its way south - to the Great Lake.
At its westernmost point is built the Palace of Sunlan. A great fortress lies to the west of the city, and a great many watch towers and battlements stand to the north and south. The palace itself, however, has no defenses; as though the builders thereof found its beauty to be such that it would be profane to sully its visage with stone.'
'Is it so beautiful?' Pelas asked, looking at his brother, who sat beside him on a stone chair in the main hall of Ilvas Fortress.
'It is more fair than Albori, my lord,' Bralohi said. He paused, and added, 'Of course, your father built his palace out of the stones of Vitiai, and there is a beauty in such signs of power.'
'Don't worry about my father's house, Bralohi. If Sunlan Palace is greater than Albori, then it is greater than Albori. I will not have you dilute the truth for the sake of my father's pride.'
'Of course, my lord,' Bralohi said.
'What of the eastern lands,' Agonas asked, turning his attention to Kolohi, who stood beside his brother, waiting to deliver his own report.
'It is some seventy leagues from Sunlan to the Centan Bridge, which spans the Midthalon River, and yet another sixty leagues or so from thence to the Estalon. This land is called the Preylands, as it seems to be held fast in the talons of stone, which descend upon the land from the North. Another thirty leagues and one comes to the coast of Sunlan, and there lies the Great Waters, over which no eye can see. They have a large port there called Evnai, so named for their goddess.'
'Goddess?' Pelas asked with great surprise.
'The mortals of Sunlan are kin of the Essenes, who live along the shores of Esse. There are a great many of these men living also in the wastes that lie north of Westalon, between the Talon Mountains and the Esse. It is said that there was once a kingdom here; by the stories I judge that it was an elven kingdom. It was probably founded by a deserter from Azale's ranks. But the queen of that land, they say, was a goddess of terrible power. But she was spurned by her betrothed, who found love in the arms of a mortal woman. It is said that she departed from these lands upon a great ship, seeking the secret of beauty in the Far South - in a land called Kharku. She never returned, but her memory survives in the legends and tales of Sunlan. The elven lords, who rule over these sorry mortals, have taken full advantage of this story in their religious ceremonies and traditions.'
'You are a thorough scout, Kolohi,' Agonas said, seemingly growing tired of the whole affair.
'He fancies himself a scholar,' Bralohi laughed.
Kolohi's face turned red and he smiled. 'A scholar may perchance make the best sort of scout.'
'I do not doubt it,' Pelas nodded.
'What can you tell me of the politics of the land?' Pelas asked, ignoring his brother's disinterest.
'Sunlan is ruled by an elf called Ijjan. He and his wife are both silver-haired, like our dear Ruvis and Falruvis. Together they have some sixteen sons and fifteen daughters-'
'Sixteen!?' Agonas burst out, suddenly taking interest.
'For elves, of course, there is time for such a feat, but rarely the will,' Kolohi said. 'But it is not altogether unheard of, even in the land of Alwan.'
'But that is a lot of swords,' Agonas said. 'A lot of avengers, should we make an attempt at the throne.'
'Do not enter the city before you arrive at the gates, brother,' Pelas warned. 'We have just begun our spying and scouting, but you talk already of conquest?'
'That is our goal,' he replied. 'And if such a difficulty besets us at the end, we may as well mind it at the beginning, when we have time to mind it.'
'There is something else that concerns us, my lords,' Kolohi said, interrupting their argument. 'They have something they call 'Steel'.'
'Steel?' Pelas said, furrowing his brow. Agonas looked at Kolohi with great interest.
'It is a metal much stronger than our iron. We saw it fashioned into weapons by the smiths while we were in Sunlan.'
'Where do they acquire this substance?' Pelas asked.
'They say, from the Dwarves,' Bralohi answered.
'Dwarves?' Pelas snorted, 'You mean from the little ape-men, from the stories?'
'See the blades yourself, my lord, and you will call them no longer ape-men. They are brutes to be sure, from what I hear. But they have a cunning in metal and in fight that is unsurpassed. The king himself bears a blade forged by dwarves, they say. Unijan, his eldest son, also has such a blade, and a whole suit of armor made from the same dwarf-steel. He is the chief protector of Sunlan. Even the princess, Indra, has a crown of dwarf-steel-'
'Indra?' Agonas said, suddenly becoming interested again. 'Who is this Indra?'
'She is the youngest of their daughters, born only nineteen years ago,' Kolohi answered. 'But it is said that her beauty is such that her sisters, though goddesses all, look like swine beside her.'
'Is this true?' Agonas marveled.
'Who can tell, my lord?' Kolohi chuckled. 'It is not as though they show the Diamond of Sunlan to every traveler and brigand who crosses the Midthalon!'
Pelas looked at his brother, 'Agonas, we must consider these things further. Our first concern shall be this new material. We must learn more of this dwarf-steel; for our attacks are vain if they pierce not the enemy's armor, and our armor vain if it stops not the enemy's blade.'
Among the Essenes
Some believed that the Essenes had elvish blood in them, but if they did, it was not so much that their lives were extended overlong.
Their lore masters said that they had descended from an immortal named Adann and his consort, Evann. These two, for despising the father of the gods, were expelled from the Far North (which they believe is lush and full of life).
Their ancestors made their way south, naked and ashamed, finally coming to live among the other peoples of Bel Albor. Their blood mingled and in time the Essenes were born.
They had lived along the shores of the great river Esse for many ages. It is my own opinion that some descendant of Maelani, the last daughter of Adapann and Avann was their first parent, and the stories this ancestor recounted regarding the old king and queen of Mount Vitiai became the basis of the Essene Adann and Evann. But all of this is lost to history, and must be accepted only as conjecture.
The Essenes seemed to fit the land unlike any other people before them. They thrived regardless of what pestilence or violence spread through Alwan and its surrounding territories. They filled their cities along the Esse, spilling over into the east lands. Ultimately, however, the eastern Essenes were brought under the dominion of Ijjan, a rebel elf of the same kindred as Ruvis. Though the Essenes were great lovers of freedom, they bore their captivity stoutly, and served their masters faithfully. In the north, between the Talon Mountains and the Esse, there was still a great number of Essenes who, though nominally submitted to Sunlan, carried on with their lives as though they were altogether free men.
Pelas took this to be a sign that Sunlan was, perhaps, weaker than they had supposed, not being able to compel these people to serve their will. This, however, was far from the truth. Ijjan was good to them, or, at the very least, not cruel, and so they served him faithfully and without complaint.
Some two-hundred and eleven years after they restored the Fortress in Esathann, Pelas and his brother departed once again into the world in the guise of commoners. They were convinced that they must learn more about this land against which they were destined to fight
, and they knew that the knowledge would be most useful to them if it came from their own experience.
On the eve of Spring they departed; a chilly, unwelcoming day for such a journey. The clouds threatened rain, and the wind still carried much of winter's bite. 'Our return shall be more pleasant,' Agonas said as they wrapped their cloaks around them.
They rode swiftly and easily upon the Ilvas Road, which their own servants had paved with quarried stones nearly a century ago. It showed more signs of age now than its elvish designers, who rode across it still in the flower of perpetual youth. There was a guard tower built at the southern edge of the forest where, much to Pelas' satisfaction, the two travelers were waylaid and questioned. 'Forgive me,' the mortal guards pleaded upon seeing the face of their king.
'Never you mind that,' Pelas said. 'If you had not stopped us I would have had you killed upon a pike.'
The man's face turned white.
Pelas laughed. 'But for your diligence you shall be honored.' He took from his purse a gold coin and handed it to the man, who was still thanking him and weeping when the King of Ilvas had passed from sight around a bend in the road.
'You waste our gold, brother,' Agonas said, shaking his head.
'Why? For blessing those who serve us for work well done?'
'He is a mortal; you might as well cast the money into a well.'
'So you say. But, for the present at least we cannot get by without the labor of mortals. Not every elf has, what, sixteen sons and almost as many daughters?'
Agonas laughed.
They traveled the rest of that day under an ominous sky, stopping to rest and restore their provisions in Noltus, a city of the Lupith. There they were met by Cheru, Oblis and Ginat, who were to accompany them on their journey. They passed the night in one of the nicer inns and crossed the Esse at first light. The rising sun seemed to carry the Spring on its rays, warming the air and chasing away the clouds.
'We chose a good day to enter Sunlan, brother,' Agonas said. 'It comes alive to greet us.'
'This is not Sunlan proper,' Pelas said. 'These are free lands.'
'Free lands who swear allegiance to Ijjan,' Agonas reminded him.
'Even as the Lupith and Knariss are sworn to our father.' Pelas snorted, 'These Essenes seem to be sworn to both Ijjan and Parganas, according to their geography.'
Agonas laughed. 'Soon they shall swear only to us.'
Pelas pulled hard upon his reigns, and let the others walk out of earshot before he spoke. 'Have you forgotten, brother?' There was something cruel in the emphasis he put on that last, filial word. 'Have you forgotten your oath?'
Agonas almost seemed to whimper. 'Of course not, Pelas. The throne is yours; I shan't take that away from you. I only mean to be at your side when you come into the sovereign power.'
Pelas seemed to remember his brother's long faithfulness. He sighed, 'Good; I should not want any other.'
The northern region of Sunlan was anything but a waste, as Kolohi had called it. 'Spring changes many things,' Agonas noted, looking at the gently hills of grass that stretched out before them, uninterrupted by any harshness or difficulty. The road came swiftly to an end; there was a small town of mortal peasants, apparently passing their days in anticipation of the warmer weather that would soon bring traders and merchants from Sunlan and Alwan alike. 'It is marvelous,' Agonas chuckled, 'How little the elves of Albori know of their own economy.'
'The hall and the eyes of Lord Parganas are very far from here,' Pelas said. 'And it is all the better for our purposes.'
'What do you mean?' Agonas asked.
'We have set out on a Doom Path, brother, you know that as well as I. It is so called because men are not meant to return therefrom. But what if one should return? What then? Shall Lord Parganas, slayer of the gods, bow down to us?'
Agonas' face looked somber and he said nothing. 'Have you no faith in him; your own father?'
'You know him better than I,' Pelas said, the resentment in his voice unhidden.
'He would not turn back on his word; not when he had given it to Aedanla, our mother.'
They journeyed eastward across endless dunes of green grass for nearly three days ere they saw any sign of human occupation. They found a broken down wooden fence and, following it, they came upon a small farmhouse. Calling upon the bewildered farmer's wife, they learned that there was a road some ways to the south, in a town called Tinot. Agonas looked darkly upon the old woman, seeing the lines in her face. He sniffed. 'Is that steel?' he asked, looking at some tools that hung from the wall.
'Goodness, no,' she said, trying not to laugh at the strangers. She had seemed quite afraid of them at first, apparently having been under the impression that these visitors were there to rob and plunder. After hearing them ask such questions, however, she seemed to relax, accepting their story about traveling from the foot of the Talon Mountains. 'Mountain men,' she thought to herself.
She explained, 'They have stronger things in the south, where the army is kept. That is what my husband tells me at least. He has seen the palace, once before.'
'Is the palace as nice as the tales say?' Pelas asked her.
'Nicer. Or so my husband says.' She was clearly growing weary with their presence. It seemed as though she hoped her repeated mention of her husband would frighten them away. 'If he is half as old as she,' Agonas thought, 'we would have very little to fear.'
'The elves of Sunlan must keep themselves altogether out of the sight of these mortals,' Agonas said to his brother as they followed the woman's directions to Tinot and the southward road, 'if she can think the gods can be frightened by a farmer!'
The Forge
Tinot was so small that it could scarcely be considered a village. The travelers stopped here only to purchase some food and get further direction. Kolohi and Bralohi had given them a roughly drawn map and described the land sufficiently well for them to find their way without such directions, but it seemed to Pelas that the presence of five elf warriors would arouse less suspicion if they seemed to be earnest travelers. It was their intention to make their way to a place where steel could be seen, and then, from thence, to see the rest of the kingdom with their own eyes.
In Ghestus, some seventy leagues to the north of Sunlan Palace, they were informed of a smith who was as skilled in the forging of steel as any other elvish craftsman.
Ten leagues to the south lay a town called Lubine, a quiet village built along the Lub, a stream which originates in central Sunlan and flows quietly southward to join the Westalon River fifteen leagues north of Sunlan Palace. They were now drawing very close to the armies of Sunlan, and the people of this region were more suspicious, and looked upon these steel-seeking travelers with doubtful eyes.
There were also a more elves to be seen in this region. In the north, if one saw a rational creature at all, it was a mortal man without a doubt. As they went further and further south toward the Palace, there were increasingly more immortals. Most of these, as yet, were merchants or tradesmen of some sort or another, but there were also, in this region, lords and nobles, friends of Ijjan and servants of the royal house. Pelas and his company accordingly began to exercise greater caution.
In Lubine they sought an elf named Amro, who, they had heard, was unsurpassed among mortal and immortal alike in the ways of the forge. Amro's home was one of the finer houses they had seen thus far. It looked either new or well-kept, it was impossible to tell which, for the architecture was different from both that of Sunlan and of Alwan. The front portion of the house had thick logs standing as columns on each corner, upholding a slatted roof through which smoke billowed rapidly.
'Someone is at work, even as we approach,' Agonas said hopefully. He had taken a great interest in this new metal, and was more than a little excited to see and feel the material with his own hands.
Pelas looked more doubtful; for in his mind the steel was not a curiosity but an obstacle. A portion of the Lub was diverted throu
gh stone channels to run directly beside the workshop. The water gently worked a great wheel, turning it over and over again without cease.
Beyond the workshop stood a tall, round building, almost resembling an overindulgent guard tower. The stones, however, were all of a sandy color and reflected the light of the rising sun as though they were polished gold. There were many enormous windows in this house, and several smaller structures extending from the north and southern sides. Whoever dwelt there, they reasoned, possessed considerable wealth for a mere smith.
The door was ajar, and they entered one at a time, slowly filing into what seemed like a tool shop. All manner of farming tools hung upon the wall. Horse-shoes, plows, shovels, pitchforks and just about anything else an agrarian folk might need were arranged neatly upon tables and shelves.
There was a counter in the center of the room behind which sat a little boy - an elf-child, writing upon a scroll with a quill pen. He looked up at them with wide eyes as they approached. He blinked twice, turned on his stool and leapt from his place, running - half stumbling, out past a curtain and into the workshop. As he flung aside the woolen cloth a gust of hot wind flew from the room and struck their faces. 'Have you ever felt such a heat?' Pelas asked his brother, whom he knew to have more experience with such things than he.
'Never,' he said.
Pelas motioned to Cheru and Oblis, indicating that it was his will that they remain in the shop. Pelas and Agonas, with Ginat towering in their train, entered the forge, each with eyes gaping at the spectacle that revealed itself. The waterwheel powered an enormous bellows that puffed slowly but steadily upon a large furnace.
A man stood working before them, bare chested and covered in sweat and soot as he labored. He held an enormous pair of tongs in one hand and an equally large hammer in the other. After they had watched him work for some time in silence, the boy approached him, shielding his eyes from the heat of the forge. The child tapped him lightly upon the shoulder and then leaped back, almost as though he had expected a blow to follow. But the man's concentration would not be broken for anything. He pounded away at a glowing red lump of iron until it was flat and even. When he seemed satisfied with its shape he plunged it into a barrel of water, filling the room with steam. Then he gently dropped it into a pile of like objects.
At last he turned his attention to the boy. 'Ghastin,' he said. 'This better not be about that wanderer again. Let the mortals have what superstitions they must, we elves need not concern ourselves about such things.'
'It is not-' the boy began, but by then the smith had already noticed the strong, noble-born elves who stood in his shop. There were elves in this part of Sunlan, but few such as these.
'Welcome,' he said with a very business-like smile. 'What brings you to my door, honored guests?'
'We see many strong works of iron here,' Agonas began. 'Brilliant work; all of it, from the least trinket to the most valuable tool. But we see also many curious things: A sword, such as I have not seen in the north, a spear that could pierce the strongest mail, and a host of daggers, strong as dragon-tooth.'
The smith grinned, but looked doubtfully at the men. 'Yes, the steel is as good for butchering the living as it is for butchering the beasts of the field.' He nodded toward a great ax that lay flat upon a table nearby.
'But is this steel as strong as we have heard,' Pelas asked, stepping closer.
'Stronger,' the man said. He led them over to the far wall and took a sword from its hook. 'Here, take it,' he handed the sword to Pelas. The sword seemed to sing as the son of Parganas held it in his hand. His ears could hear a ringing like unto the ringing of a bell. This metal seemed rather to ring the whole world, and not itself as other metals are wont to do. 'Test it out,' the smith said, 'and see if it be as strong as you have heard.'
'Brother?' Pelas asked, looking at Agonas.
Agonas drew his own sword and the two prepared to spar. Ginat backed away; the smith grinned as though he knew precisely what would happen next.
Agonas struck, Pelas parried, but the blade of the darker brother was cut in twain like a twig.
'By the gods!' Ginat bellowed, nearly falling into the forge in surprise.
Agonas seemed positively spooked. Pelas alone was undisturbed, though a crazed smile painted itself across his face.
'Never have I seen such a thing!' he marveled. 'I must have this sword,' he said, looking at the unaffected edge with hungry admiration.
'I shall make you one then,' the smith said, 'and to your precise desires. You will not find a better man for the task, my lord. I am Amro, and, like my father, I have learned the trade from the dwarves themselves.'
'We shall have much business for you, master Amro,' Pelas said, smiling despite his own attempts to retain his composure. 'But I should like to purchase this very blade at once; I shall return to see about the others.'
'I am afraid that this blade does not belong to me,' Amro said suddenly. 'I have no right to sell it.'
'What do you mean by this?' Pelas thundered, sounding like a deprived child.
'This was my father's sword, which he left for Ghastin, his youngest son.'
'But surely your brother-'
Amro lifted his hand and waved the boy away. Ghastin fled at once, looking nervously over his shoulder at the sword in Pelas' hand. 'The blade was made by my father, with dwarven smiths in his employ. It cannot be replaced, but it can be copied. He meant for the boy to have this blade when he comes of age, even as he left me this ax.' He pointed at the table with hands that seemed to radiate strength and skill even to the very finger-tips.
Pelas tilted his head to one side, like an owl examining some novelty. Malice flashed in his eyes.
Pelas and his brother had no idea how long they stood this way; from the other room there was a holler and a shout. Ghastin burst through the door and ran to his brother's side, screaming like a frightened girl.
'What is the meaning of this, Ghastin?' he asked.
'They are not friends,' he whispered to Amro in a measured whisper. He did not move, but there was a noticeable change in Amro's demeanor, as though every muscle passed from ease into readiness.
A moment later Cheru and Oblis burst into the room with hatred in their eyes.
'He was spying on us!' Cheru roared. 'He was listening to us talk from under the table.'
'Under HIS table, my lords,' Amro reminded them, protectively pushing his brother behind him. 'You cannot fault a child for such a thing.'
Cheru looked at Pelas with dark malice in his eyes, and nodded to indicate that this was no small matter of rude manners.
Ghastin also understood that this could not be brushed away with a scolding. Through tears he burst out, 'They want the steel to kill the King of Sunlan – to kill King Ijjan!'
Pelas looked at the blade of his weapon and sighed. 'Never in my life have I seen better craftsmanship. It would be a pity if we could not come to some… agreement over this trifle.'
Amro chuckled, time seemed to freeze. Finally he spoke, 'You know there is no agreement to be made. You will have your way, no doubt. My life and the life of my brother in exchange for my services. No doubt I must leave here this very day, and in chains too.'
Pelas looked truly regretful. 'You are as skilled in words and thought as you are in iron. Would that we might have met under-'
None of the elves, from that moment nor even in their recollection of the events, could explain just what happened next. In a flash, in a half of a blink, the sword was once again in the hand of Amro. Pelas stood for a moment, looking at his hand in confusion, too dazed to see Amro's heavy boot flying at his face. The kick connected, whirling the son of Parganas off his feet as though he had been swept up like a leaf in a gale. Ginat rushed to the defense of his master, seizing Amro by the wrist with his powerful arms. Amro turned and seemed to tuck himself into the giant's crushing grip, stepped forward and cast the mighty elf over his shoulder and into the forge. The siz
zle of his burning flesh was cut off by a cry of agony. He pulled himself off the flames and thrust his burning left arm into the bucket of water. Cheru and Oblis pounced upon Amro with blades drawn, but Ghastin's sword cut through each of their weapons in turn.
Agonas looked into his own hand at his broken blade, looked into Amro's eyes and smiled, backing away. They understood one another without words: This man, Amro, was not such as they had thought - a tradesman, a businessman a worker. He was as skilled as the lot of them, and it would only be when the greater portion of them lay dead that he would himself be taken. Amro gripped Ghastin by the arm and fled from the forge through a back entrance, grabbing the axe as he left. 'What about Ele?' Ghastin wept as they passed from the door.
'SILENCE!' Amro hissed.
Pursuit
Pelas and his companions rushed through the door in great panic. They heard a splash and saw a small bridge collapse into the water beside the house. Beyond this they saw the shrinking forms of Amro and his brother vanishing over the horizon. 'Horses!' Pelas bellowed, returning to the workshop. 'We must make for the crossing!'
'I will track you,' Agonas said calmly, 'Go on ahead and capture him if you can. Do not kill him, brother.'
'I won't,' Pelas said, not noticing that he was taking orders from his brother. He rushed from the house and leaped upon his horse.
Cheru and Oblis grabbed swords from the shop, looked at them approvingly, and then followed their master in pursuit of the smith. Cheru knew in his heart that this was his blunder.
Oblis was too stupid to bear any blame, but he should have known better than to speak of their plans in such a place.
'It was the marvel of that sword,' Cheru thought to himself. 'Who could have kept their tongue in the sight of it?' Amro now physically represented his own error, and he hated him.
The nearest crossing was a five-minute gallop from the forge, and it was nearly ten minutes before the hunters came to the place where Amro had dropped the bridge. 'Doubtless he will find a horse for himself,' Pelas reasoned. 'Then he will head south, for there are no armies in this place. He must warn Sunlan, both for his own protection, and out of loyalty.'
Almost as soon as they discovered the first signs of their quarry, Pelas, Oblis and Cheru also discovered that the smith and his brother had departed from the road. And almost as soon as they had they turned to follow did they discover that horses would be of no use. The land was swampy and overgrown, thick weeds and thorny bushes grew so thick together that there was no hope of finding a path for their mounts. They tied them to a tree and left them behind.
On foot they fared little better at first, having no idea where their quarry would go, and having soon lost sight of any trace of their flight. Furthermore, when some sign of disturbance appeared it seemed as though the tracks led in every direction at once. 'This man is a master of the wilds as well as of the forge,' Pelas said with awe.
Cheru just grumbled and cursed; Oblis did not understand any of it.
They continued on well into the night, giving up at last and crumbling to the cold earth in heaps. They set no fire, ate no meals and set no watch. All seemed lost to them as they sat in the dark, lost and beaten. For Pelas it was a night of many nightmares and as many feverish awakenings.
Cheru mumbled curses in his sleep, woke, cursed still more, drifted off again and cursed nonsense into the night air. Oblis slept like a stone, with his face blowing bubbles in the mud.
The moment the sky turned a shade lighter they were up, searching for clues regarding their enemy's flight. They found that most of the signs pointed to the south, and they, with heavy hearts, raced off into the wilds, their feet kicking up mud, their breath streaming from their mouths like billowing smoke.
It was not until midday that Pelas remembered how adept his brother was at such pursuits. Lady Aedanla abhorred the hunt, and found every occasion to have him excluded from such brutalities. Agonas, however, learned the skills of the wild from the Master Huntsman Vir, who among the hunters of Bel Albor had no rival. 'Why did I leave him behind?' he asked himself with great anger and confusion. 'Is this his betrayal? That which I knew must come? Will he allow me to fall that he might live on and take the throne his own way?' He felt sick at the thought, and a tear made its way to his eye, despite his attempts to feel nothing but anger and hatred.
They followed footprints in the mud for the rest of the day, coming at last, exhausted and depressed, to the edge of a large forest. They would be fools to attempt it during the night; they made camp under a great oak tree and lit a fire, eating for the first time since the morning they had entered Lubine. They clumsily forced dry bread down their throats, washing it down with cold water from their waterskins. They ate only a few bites of their dried meat, not knowing when they would have occasion to restore their supplies. 'The horses!' Pelas lamented within himself, remembering how the greater portion of their rations were still tied to those stupid animals.
The next day they entered the woods. There were no clouds in the sky and the sun shone bright and clear. They found their trail easily and sprinted off into the woods. About three hours later they came across a smoldering heap of ashes. 'Someone has camped here,' Pelas said with great excitement. They cannot have been gone long by the look of these logs.'
They hurried on through the rest of the day, finally coming to a halt before a great stone wall, which marked the beginning of a small mountain. Up they climbed, Oblis little faster than the stones themselves.
Pelas cursed as he and Cheru ran on ahead, shouting back, 'return to Lubine; find Agonas, and see why he has not yet come to us.' This, he knew, was unfair - his brother could hardly have caught up to them, as they had made such haste. But his frustration combined with the need to give Oblis some command or another forced the words from his lips. 'With naught to do he would lose himself in the woods never to be found,' Pelas reasoned.
Surrender
When night fell Amro risked another fire. Ghastin had fallen and had cut his leg badly. 'Would to the gods I could have fled away alone - or with an equal,' he lamented as he peered out into the darkness. Ghastin slept now; Amro knew he needed to sleep as well, but he could not risk it, not with those devils behind him.
As he gazed into the darkness he saw three figures approach him. He blinked and they were gone. In an instant he saw them again, three distinct forms as clear as the fire that burned behind him. Suddenly they vanished away again. He rose to his feet and lifted his battle-ax, calling out, 'Who dares approach Amro in the dead of night?'
Suddenly there came a voice from behind him. He turned and saw three strange forms standing over his brother.
'All things are bound and connected, divided only by words,' a voice spoke out. The speaker was an old man, clothed in simple grey robes. He looked tired and ancient, ready for death - or for eternal rest at the very least. He was Old Man Sleep.
Beside him stood two others, a man in a white robe with golden edges who looked like he was ready to break into a grin.
The other man was cloaked in black with a dagger ever ready in his pale white hand.
He shook his head, and the men vanished again. He looked around frantically, trying to see where they had gone, but there was nothing but himself, the fire and his brother, sleeping undisturbed by anything. He looked closely at his brother to see that he was breathing. Among the Essenes it was said that such visions preceded the death of a child. But those were human legends, and an elf child needn't fear Death.
Almost as though they had heard his thoughts, the three visions returned, this time Folly, the brother of Old Man Sleep and of Death, roared with mockery.
'If you were not so arrogant,' he chuckled, 'You would never have thought such a thing. Glad, you ought to be, that my brother Death does not accept such challenges.'
'Challenge?' Amro said, shaking his head - as he did so the men vanished once again. But as his head settled the figures returned.
'You
are right to call into question the word "Challenge",' Folly laughed. 'For who can challenge Death and live?'
Amro looked down at his sleeping brother as if he was remembering something. His body began to shake and he covered his face with his hands.
'It is said that he who sees the three brothers is doomed to death,' he said.
'So also for those who do not,' Sleep said, quickly. 'For no man escapes us entirely.'
Amro snorted, 'But it is said - if I should speak more clearly - that he who sees Death will not live out the night.'
'Such things are said,' Sleep affirmed, 'and so it has ever been. But you, my child, are one of the few that have seen Death and lived through till morning.'
Amro cast his ax to the ground and drew his sword, pointing the blade at his own heart.
Folly's eyes widened and his mouth gaped open as if he had never seen anything so entertaining.
Sleep sighed, but Death took no notice.
'I have it in my power,' he said fiercely, 'to force your hand this night, oh black one.' He spoke directly to Death.
'You say you have it in your power,' Sleep said, 'So we shall see. What is power? When a man says, I have the power to do this or that thing - how can he say that he can do what is not done? How can he know? Yes, we shall see if you have the power.'
Amro stood there like a man made of iron, staring hatefully upon the three brothers.
Finally Folly spoke, his smile vanishing from his lips, saying, 'Do not do this rash thing. You are cast in the mold of your fathers, whom we have observed for many an age. From the beginning willfulness entered into your kind; nay, even from before your first father there was will in this world, born of illusion and bent upon self-destruction. It was, in the eyes of your ancestor, better to die than to be used. Better to come to naught than to have one's value in the eyes of another. Better to be the master of death, than life's battered anvil. The road of life is not easy; but the road of death is no better, however lightly one may tread thereon.'
Sleep nodded, impressed by his brother's rare sobriety. 'You consider yourself a free man, Amro,' he said, 'but if you would but give it some thought you would see that there are no free men. For who can see all ends, and therefore avoid all evils? Who can direct their own course aright, without knowledge of all things, present and future. A man labors his life away, and perishes along with his posterity in a flood. Or a man takes his ease, and lives to be old and to kiss grandchildren. Even we, who have seen all men from the first even to the last, even we cannot see all ends. You have the power, you say, and you must do as you will. But there is another way.'
'Time rolls like a wheel,' Sleep said, as if he fought for every breath by reason of exhaustion. 'You must become part of that wheel or be ground to powder beneath it. But either way, the wheel turns on and on. Change comes.'
'You are speaking of my death?' Amro asked.
Sleep nodded, 'We speak of your death. There is a choice that looks best, and then there is the best choice, which man may never know or see. We come here as counselors today: Your life will fall into the hands of strange men; submit to them, save your lives for a time, and serve them to the utmost of your ability. In the end you will understand everything.'
'You said that you spoke of my death,' Amro said, puzzled.
'Nothing can stop that,' Sleep said, 'but you will have the opportunity to make an end of yourself in glory or in shame. Do not be tempted by the former path. But this I promise you: For your brother's sake, your choice will be of greater weight than you can possibly imagine. You will be a slave to your enemies, he will suffer greatly too, but it will be, if you can find a way to believe, for the good.'
'For the good,' Amro grunted. 'What nonsense.' His chest heaved with anger. 'I never asked for any of this!'
'No?' Folly said, lifting one eyebrow, as though he were daring Amro to ask for proof that he had in fact asked for it. But Amro's mind was carried into the past, and he heard his brother's voice speaking to him. It had been several weeks now since Ghastin had come home speaking strange things - things he had heard from a sage traveling through Lubine. He had said, repeating the teacher, 'If any man says that he is good, then let him look to his enemy and say, he is good also. And if any man say he is greater than his father, then let him look to his father and say, he also is greater. Unless a man becomes his own father, he shall not know the Mountain of Life.'
The words still seemed a mystery, but suddenly he found that he could make no accusations against the heavens for his lot. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not make a sound in protest.
Breathing heavily, he cursed and swung his sword through the air wildly, cutting branches from the trees above him. Finally he fell to his knees and wept, staining his cheeks with tears until the sun rose. 'It is a hard lot that has fallen to us,' he wept. 'It is a hard fate that I have given myself.'