The council hall is illumined by the light of countless lanterns and torches struggling to fight back the pervading darkness as the counselors and their interlocutors gather together, the messenger who has just arrived standing in their midst. After being received at the main city gates, he was offered a change of clothes and a warm repast, but this he refused, accepting only a flask of hot tea and a stable for his horse while the council was gathered together. His whole bearing from the moment of his arrival has been marked both by exhaustion and by haste, and when he begins to speak, it is evident to all why this is so.
"I was told that you have ridden from the north with pressing news, is this correct?" Bryma asks. "Please introduce yourself and give us your message."
With a salute, the messenger replies, "My name is Halifast, son of Hroas, of the city of Minstead. I have ridden through day and night with little rest at the orders of the one who sent me, though barely distinguishable are the two now. The news I bear is this: Minstead has fallen. Close upon two weeks ago, as the sky and the land were cloaked in darkness, a great force assailed us in bloody combat. From within the city itself creatures attacked us in numbers far greater than our own, and we were little prepared to defend against them, even given prior warning concerning these creatures. Foreknowledge was of no avail, and only complete withdrawal from the city saved us."
"You said that you had forewarning concerning the possibility of an attack such as this?" Bryma inquires.
"Aye, to a degree, at least. We have for months heard reports of affairs east of the mountains from the mouths of refugees as well as from official messengers," says Halifast. "But even before they began to appear in our clan-lands, we heard warning from a man named Malrûn Verdis, a one-time Imperial officer who now serves as a lieutenant of the guard in Minstead, though whether he still lives—or whether any of our people who may remain in the said city still live—I do not know."
"Malrûn..." Eldarien interjects. "My companion and I know him. We were with him when he decided to bring word of warning to those west of the mountains."
Turning to Eldarien, Halifast looks intently at him for a moment as if weighing him with his eyes, and then he says, unable to conceal his disappointment, "So you must be the 'righteous warriors' of whom he spoke. It is well to see that you still live, though I would have expected more. You give an impression of weakness that I did not expect, considering the strength of the words I have heard about you. I would ask how your own warning-bearing to Ristfand fared, but the accounts have made clear enough to me the horrors that have been happening there in the days and months of late. Yet now we ourselves are partners in these horrors in full measure, and the people east and west alike share in the grim fate that has fallen upon the people of Telmerion." Then turning back to Bryma and the other council members, he adds, "Am I mistaken in interpreting what I witnessed upon my arrival to be signs that your city, too, has been attacked by the enemy?"
"You are not mistaken," Jatildë responds, "though by many small fortunes, and some greater, we have come to a different fate than the city of Minstead."
"The attack was repelled?"
"Aye. That it was."
"How?"
"By the courage of the people of Onylandun," Bryma replies, "and also by the light-bearing of these men whom you have called 'righteous warriors.'"
"So that word is true as well," says Halifast, lowering his eyes momentarily. "Though it is obvious that two such warriors, or even a thousand, shall be less than a fraction of what we need to gain victory over the powers of evil that now overwhelm us. Regardless, how strange are the days in which we live, as if the old legends have begun to live again, and both promises and fears long forgotten have come to be fulfilled now in our midst."
"We can speak of such matters later," Bryma continues, "but tell me now: what do you know of the state of the city of Minstead and its surrounds? You were sent to us with warning and with a plea for aid, of this I am certain. But what do you have to tell us of the battle? What was the state of affairs when you departed?"
"I thought that my words were clear enough," says Halifast shortly in response, his voice an intermingling of irritation and grief, or rather of irritation born of grief. "The city has fallen. It took only a matter of hours for these druadach—and other beasts much more fearsome—to overrun the city. Those who could flee did so, though many more are trapped within the city, made captive as slaves...those, that is, who were not already slain mercilessly by the city's new 'inhabitants.'"
"You call these creatures the new 'inhabitants' of the city. Why do you say this?" asks Vindal.
"Because that is what they are. I was sent as a messenger for aid only twenty-four hours after we fled the city, but already it was apparent that Minstead, once the bastion of resistance against the Empire and the home of the rebellion, has now become the fortress of our enemy and the new stronghold of their might. And why they made our people captive rather than slaying them all, I know not. Perhaps they wish to use them as pawns in their own power-games, or to seek some profitable bargain for their lives."
"You say that it is apparent that Minstead is now an enemy fortress, and that many people have been kept alive in its midst," Bryma remarks. "How is this so?"
"Because they taunted us thus, after we had fled," Halifast answers, bitterness in his voice.
"They taunted you?" Eldarien asks. "Then one of them at least was able to speak?"
"That is right. Their leader spoke as we do, though the rest were mute as beasts."
"And what was the visible appearance of this leader?"
"He was a great winged darkness. I know not how to describe him but that."
"The Lord of Death…" sighs Bryma, rubbing his brow with the pads of his fingers in grief that the terrifying Draia whom they had only recently encountered here in Onylandun is now at the head of the armies in Minstead. But dismissing the thoughts that seek to fill his mind, Bryma raises his head and asks Halifast, "What of the Imperial forces? You spoke of the creatures of darkness and their taking possession of the city. But what role do the armies of the Empire play in all of this?"
"Those petty warmongers and their pitiful ruler…" growls Halifast, "I believe that they have received their just deserts, or shall receive such soon enough."
"What do you imply?"
"Have you not heard the rumors of war on the continent of Væliria, even unto the very seat of the Emperor?" Halifast asks, and hearing this Eldarien and Elmariyë share a meaning glance. "Many of the troops stationed near the city of Brug'hil, even along the Finistra Range almost to Minstead, have been called back to the mainland. But regardless of this setback for our Imperial enemy, their forces could hope yet for a victory in Telmerion were these creatures to whom they have bound themselves to prove genuine allies. Yet such, clearly, they are not, nor have they proven to be."
"Again you speak of something with which we are unacquainted," Bryma interjects, his voice now touched with irritation, the haughtiness of Halifast wearing thin his patience. "How have these creatures proven themselves thus?"
"You know not of the Sillion incident?"
"How could we? That is a long way from here, and little word passes between us in either direction."
"The only surviving hæras of the old clans of Telmerion," Halifast says, his eyes gleaming with mysterious intent, "you must feel so alone and defenseless, now that your brethren are all slain. Such was the last free act, if you wish to express it so, of the leaders of the armies of the Empire in our lands. For the Sillion incident of which I have spoken has changed the landscape of the war definitively. For there the creatures of darkness turned on the greatest army of the Empire, with the commander-general at their head, and offered them only two options: death or servitude. Those men who once fought for the Empire of Væliria in our lands now either lie slain by the beasts whom they sought to recruit to their cause, or fight under the directives of leaders neither human nor compassionate.
"With the Empire crippled and the hærasi slain, the way is at last paved for the true high king to arise and to take his rightful place. Perhaps we should thank them for decapitating almost every head of this many-headed serpent, the so-called leaders of the clans of Telmerion, who have cooperated so long with the forces of our oppressors. They thought to weaken us but only unveiled our true strength, and then were themselves struck by those they considered allies."
"I would silence your tongue, you impertinent fool," Bryma says, rising to his feet in rage, "before it is removed from your mouth. Who do you think you are to speak so arrogantly before the seat of a rightful ruler of the people of Telmerion, and one from whom you wish to plead aid against forces far greater than your own?"
"I am a comrade-in-arms and a supporter of our true king, as I have said," Halifast affirms, refusing to be phased by the hæras' anger and instead raising his voice in mock confidence.
"Your true king?" Jatildë says, her face unable to contain her frustration and disgust for the man who stands before them.
"Wygrec Stûnclad. It is in his name that I stand before you now, asking you to join his efforts in retaking his city. If our endeavor is successful, and we defeat these foreign aggressors, I assure you that the reward shall be great. Wygrec forgets not his allies, and bestows favors benignly upon all who aid him in his ascension."
"Were it not for the valuable information that you bear," Bryma says, gaining control of his temper and yet stepping forward and raising his voice to freely express his indignation, "I would put you without hesitation in the dungeons beneath us, bound by your own stupidity while your cause progresses without you. If this is the message you bring—that we are to be vassals to your so-called king—then you can leave our council this very moment and never return. How dare you speak in this manner when before and behind you lie such grief, terror, and loss, and when our land itself is cast into darkness? You shall truly assert the agenda of your leader and his wish to reign in the face of the dire conflict facing our people, and risk our ire solely for the purposes of letting us know which man you think should be the future ruler of Telmerion? Do you not know that, unless we gather together in unity to face the powers that are set against us, Telmerion as we know it or wish it shall in the future not even exist?"
The words at last weaken Halifast's bravado, and when he opens his mouth to reply, his voice falters, "M-my apologies, councilor. I knew not that you did not understand or support the reforms wrought by the great Stûnclad. Has his courage and leadership truly not sent its echoes this far from the center of the rebellion?"
"Oh, may the divines save us from insufferable fools!" cries Rorlain, stepping forward now. As he does so, his eyes interlock with those of Bryma for a moment, whose mouth is open as if to speak. But the latter then closes his mouth and nods to Rorlain, gratefully accepting his intervention. Turning to Halifast and standing face to face with him, but a couple feet separating them, Rorlain stands to his full height and his face and his bearing are so imposing that Halifast unconsciously sinks his shoulders and steps back like a dog scolded by its master. "I once fought for the man of whom you speak," Rorlain says, and the tenor of his voice is strong and steady, neither lost in anger nor constrained in cowardice, echoing throughout the wide chamber. "Wygrec found courage for resistance when he saw the ills of the Empire, and when he felt them in his own person. None of us here, I trust, fault him for this. Good he has brought, perhaps, in fighting to free the Telmerins from foreign occupation. But it is also evident that the fruits of his resistance have been more than mixed, the bitter product of excessive and ill-guided zeal. Surely you, too, can see this. What we need now is not a leader of rebellion but a custodian of goodness, not a man of war but a protector of peace, not a sword of vengeance against our enemies but a shield against the darkness that falls upon us."
Halifast does not immediately reply to this, his face burning with both anger and shame as the eyes of all—or rather most—in the chamber are turned upon him. The gaze of Eldarien is downcast, his heart sorrowing for the man who in his blind zeal is offending his hosts and causing such unnecessary and unintentional conflict. He is grateful to Rorlain for standing up and speaking before matters became even more heated, but he is also grieved by the fault-lines cutting through the people of Telmerion, which this conversation has so vividly highlighted. And for a moment he feels almost grateful that the path of kingship that he walks may well end, not in rule, but in death, and that the new life that he seeks to gain for the people of Telmerion may be something of which he himself has no part. For he wishes to give them life after death and light after darkness, but he has little aspiration to govern and to rule, and in this moment wishes that another could do so. To gain life for them beyond the death of these days, and yet himself to find rest in death, and beyond it: this, he realizes, is what he now wants more than anything. Since when did the fear of death give way to the yearning for death? The change that his heart has undergone startles him now, and he wonders to himself whether this aspiration is born more of weariness with the pain and loss of life or more of hope for a peace, repose, and life that lie beyond the limits of the mortal world. Yet he is unable to think on these things now, as the conversation continues and his attention is carried outward again to follow the words of others.
"A custodian of goodness rather than a leader of rebellion?" Halifast asks, his voice revealing a humbled (yet not humble) spirit, and yet also a thread of combativeness that endures even now. "Are these not inseparable in our current situation? And where, after all, would we find that of which you speak? A man who defends yet does not rebel? It sounds like the fancy of the fearful mind, recoiling from the bitter realism of warfare and conflict, rather than a realistic hope and expectation. Unless...of course, you suppose that you are what you propose?"
"I certainly am not," replies Rorlain calmly, taking a small step back and yet maintaining the fullness of his presence as if it were a shield protecting the rest of the people in the room from the ire of Halifast.
"The man with whom you speak does not claim any leadership or right to rule," Bryma says, "though I gladly entrust the leadership of my warriors into his capable care. And if we go to war at your side, I assure you that he shall be present at the vanguard of our army. But if we are granted to see the end of these bitter days, I warn you that our allegiance shall lie elsewhere than with Wygrec Stûnclad."
"Where then shall you turn, hæras Bryma, leader of the clan of Onylandis?" Halifast asks. "Do you think that with the other hærasi slain, you shall ascend the throne?"
"Have you not already insinuated such a thing once in this conversation?" Bryma retorts. "I have neither intention nor desire to do such a thing. As we have for centuries, the people of Onylandis owe allegiance to only one man: the promised king in the line of our rightful ruler."
"Galaptes?" Halifast almost spits out the word. "I thought those tales were long dismissed as mere memories of a bygone age. I thought that Telmerion was at last ready to move into a new age, rather than being bound to fragments of a forgotten and shattered past."
"We did not welcome you into our counsel, Halifast, son of Hroas," Bryma says curtly, "in order to argue over politics. We welcomed you as a messenger of the need of our Telmeric brethren in Minstead. And I will not allow a single word further from you unless it concerns that need. So let me say unto you: we have no reason to ignore the plight of our brethren, especially as we have only recently been spared a similar fate. There is little need for you to convince us of our obligations in this regard."
"We already had every intention of coming to the aid of those in other clans, wherever the darkness was next to strike," Rorlain adds, "and your message has simply shown us where this is to be."
"Well spoken, Rorlain," Bryma says, and then, directing his words to Halifast again for the last time, he concludes, "So if there is no further information you can give us that would aid us in this endeavor, leave us in peace, that we may prepare our hearts and minds for what awaits us, and our troops for imminent departure."
Halifast at last accepts his defeat, and, with his head bowed, he leaves the chamber and allows himself to be shown to a room that has been prepared for him, where he may take both food and rest, though it is evident to all that for him the hospitality that he expected has turned to bitterness.
† † †
After their quarrelsome guest has departed from the council chamber, the five companions draw near to the seven counselors and a discussion begins in earnest concerning the affairs of the coming days. "It sounds as if the assault on Minstead was quite precisely planned and executed," Rorlain remarks. "I would suspect that the siege of the city was indeed ordained to provide the eötenga and their masters with a fortress, a sort of 'base of operations.' I fear that this shall allow them to consolidate their power and thence to wage devastating war upon the rest of the settlements of Telmerion."
"Perhaps the words of the Lord of Death implied as much," Eldarien agrees. "I assumed that he meant only the attack on Onylandun when he hinted at worse things to come, but this...this I did not expect. On the other hand, it does not surprise me. Ever since the first attack on Ristfand, they have never restrained their violence to only one location, but have spread far and wide like a vicious illness or a fire seeking to consume all in its flames."
"And this all-consuming darkness, this scourge that has come from the earth as a black fog, has reached even Minstead," Cirien says. "That is ill news indeed. What power must our enemy wield that he can call forth a blackness to blot out both earth and sky across the entirety, or nearly the entirety, of a continent."
"It covers everything," Elmariyë interjects simply. "When I cast my heart out to the furthest reaches of Telmerion, to feel the heartbeat of our people, the atmosphere of our land, I find only darkness, the oppression of wickedness and the veiling of the light."
"So then we are indeed to do as we said to Halifast?" Jatildë asks. "You said that we shall surely come to the aid of their city, since our plan has been all along to continue the fight wherever the creatures of darkness strike next. But if the city has already been lost, is the best course of action truly to seek to regain it? Would our efforts not be better spent trying to protect more cities?"
"Perhaps they would," responds Bryma, "but it is impossible for us to know where the enemy shall attack next. Perhaps seeking to break their power, or at least to distract it and thereby lessen it, is the best that we can hope to do, and the most effective way to protect life as well."
"I agree with this," says Rorlain. "The creatures of darkness are not limitless, even if they are vast. If we were to lay siege to Minstead, it would force their attention upon us and spare, we can hope, many of the other settlements who have little or no means to defend themselves."
"I also believe that there is truth to the words that Halifast spoke concerning those still left alive within the city," Cirien says. "Many of our brethren are imprisoned now in a place of terrible darkness, and I would see them rescued, were it possible."
"Once already have we been called upon to do that, and for a single person, for Tilliana in the castle in the mountains," agrees Rorlain, "and I wish to do it again. However, if that prior saving appeared impossible at the time, this one appears even more so. For our numbers are small, and the survivors from Minstead who call for our aid are surely so as well."
"Could we not call on other cities to aid us?" Meric offers. "It shall take a fortnight or more, correct, for our troops to travel to Minstead? Surely in that time we can send messengers to others who may join us in the fight."
"But to whom? To Brug'hil? To Winfreya? To Oromardë?" Bryma asks. "Long it would take to reach these places, and even longer for troops to be gathered and to join us. Success or defeat would surely have come by the time reinforcements have arrived."
"I suggest that you send messengers nonetheless," Eldarien urges. "Even if they arrive late or not at all, I would spare you the regret of not calling for aid when you could have. And you also know not what the paths of the future may hold."
Receiving these words, Bryma nods gently and replies, "Very well then. We shall send riders out at once to any cities large enough and near enough that hope of help may come. And I shall also take this opportunity, with your permission—Eldarien, Rorlain—to inform them that the king of light has come and wields the power to expel these creatures."
Bowing his head, Eldarien replies for them both, "I understand that it cannot be hidden forever. And even though I shall not be present in the fight, I trust that word of a light standing against the darkness shall give hope to the hopeless and courage to the fearful. As for my part, my sister and I shall depart without delay, even this very day, on the quest that lies before us. I would wish to bring an end to this war by another means before it brings more death and destruction for our people."
Following these words there is a dense silence in the chamber for a long moment, which is at last broken by the sound of Bryma's voice, giving expression to the thoughts and feelings in the hearts of all, "Our hopes rest in the two of you, bearers of light, alone. We walk unto darkness with little or no hope of victory by might of arms. Rather, we seek only to save as many lives as we may, and to prevent further destruction, all the while awaiting the deliverance that you go to seek. What a frail and petty hope it seems, and what an obscure expectation. I admit that it provides no consolation to hold onto, not even an image or semblance of what it is that you go to accomplish. All that I can do—all that we can do—is trust in your word, as you trust in the word spoken unto you. Please, do not fail us."
"I know not what strength lies within me," Eldarien replies quietly, "but whatever there is shall be devoted wholly unto the salvation and deliverance of our people."
"I speak the same," confirms Elmariyë, taking a step closer to Eldarien and locking her arm within his.
"Enough of this," Cirien says. "We all stand face to face with the darkness, and we cannot but grasp for hope in hopelessness, even while allowing ourselves to be stretched to our limit, and beyond it. But look to the light that shines forever undimmed behind the stars, the light seen only with the heart. Its beauty lies in part for us, now, in the fact that, invisible as it is, even when all other lights are obscured, it continues to shine undimmed."
"Such are the consolations of a cleric, indeed, whether they are well spoken or ill," remarks Vindal, and many share his skepticism.
"I say it as well now: enough," Bryma concludes. "Our plan is at last settled, is it not? Does anything else need to be discussed?"