Elmariyë wakes to Eldarien's voice and to the touch of his hand upon her shoulder. In a whisper he says, "Wake up, but remain still and quiet." As the grogginess of sleep fades away, she sits and tries to look at her brother in the darkness, but she can see nothing. The fire has burned itself to nothing but subtly glowing red embers. The cold is bitter and unpleasant, though the wind has stopped and the land about them is cloaked in quiet.
"What is it, Eldarien?" she asks quietly.
"I fear that there are creatures nearby...predators," he explains.
They both listen in the nocturnal silence for a long moment for any sounds that would reveal the existence and identity of such predators, but for a couple minutes they hear nothing. The horses about them grow restless and whinny uncomfortably, pulling upon their harnesses, which makes the listening more difficult. But just as Elmariyë opens her mouth to speak again, Eldarien raises his hand—a vague movement hinted at her side—and says, "There! Listen!" And as soon as his voice has fallen silent again she hears it: the sound of footsteps on the snow, followed shortly by the low rumble of an animal's growl.
"A wolf?" she asks.
"I fear so, though they travel in packs, so surely more than one."
"Would the fire scare them off?"
"There is no time," he answers simply, and then she hears him slowly and quietly withdraw his sword from its sheath. A moment later she feels, more than sees, his figure rise up into a standing position beside her. For her part she reaches blindly through the darkness for her pack, and, untying the strap closing it, reaches in and withdraws the gift-lantern, holding it in her left hand while, with her right, she finds her dagger and draws it, holding it at the ready.
An instant more and the horses spook, rearing up and neighing wildly, trying to break free from their bonds and to fight or to flee. Elmariyë hears the sound of metal against leather and knows that Eldarien is cutting their reigns and allowing them freedom of movement to do precisely this. Then the first wolf is upon them, a flash of movement in the blackness and a wild and raving growl; but in response Eldarien allows a flash of light to channel through the lightbringer, and for a few moments the scene is illumined, the shadows of the trees cast far upon the snow like overgrown and elongated shapes, and, at the horizon of darkness and light, the glint of many eyes prowling in a circle about the camp, and gradually drawing nearer. Catching the wolf in mid-leap, Eldarien thrusts his sword up through its torso and it cries out before slumping to the earth in death. Elmariyë grimaces at the sickening sound of the blade being withdrawn from its body.
After this Eldarien calls forth the light even brighter, and allows it to remain, filling the area a good thirty yards around them with radiance. They see numerous wolves—more than they would have expected, snarling and snapping their jaws viciously at the death of a member of their pack.
"I know not why they do not flee," says Eldarien, his voice tense. "The light should scare them away, if not the slaying of one of their kind. I fear these may be polluted by the dark."
There is no time for further words, as all at once the beasts set upon the travelers with merciless intensity. The horses rear up to fight, neighing and stomping their hooves, and Eldarien slashes adeptly again the wolves that come against them. Elmariyë, trying to rise up to her feet, is yet thrust down by a wolf that lands directly upon her, its front paws upon her shoulders. The lantern slips from her grasp and her other arm splays out wildly as she instinctively tries to soften her fall; but the dagger remains in her hand. With bared teeth and bloodshot eyes directly above her, closing in for the kill, she swings the dagger up from the side full across the wolf's chest and it yelps in pain, falling back. It looks at her in fury and prepares again to lunge, but before it is able to strike she brings the blade down upon its back with all of her strength.
But even as the wolf collapses beneath her she is set upon by two more of the creatures, and she desperately tries to keep them at bay, swinging her dagger wildly but futilely. Surely these are no ordinary wolves, or wolves possessed of the ordinary instincts of the hunt. Behind her one of the horses lets out a whinny and then an anguished cry; the snarl of a wolf accompanies it as the creature closes its jaws for the kill, only to be killed a moment later by Eldarien. The other horse, Elmariyë's, seeing its companion sink to the earth, slain by the teeth of the wolf, raises up on its hind legs and brings its front hooves crashing down on the head of another wolf, but then turns and sprints away into the darkness. Yet Elmariyë has no time to heed this, as she must exert all her attention to the beast that now assails her, and which in like manner to the previous wolf, she is only barely able to slay. But even as she is able to do this, fear ripples through her at the awareness of the second wolf that was assailing her, toward which she has turned her back. She swivels around on her heels only to see Eldarien's figure in one fell leap descend upon the wolf and the lightbringer flash brilliantly as its blade comes down in a killing blow. And then all is quiet.
"Are you harmed?" he asks, turning to his sister.
"No…" she sighs in response, their eyes meeting for a moment and saying more in an instant than many words could express.
Raising his sword in the air Eldarien sends forth a wide ray of light to illuminate their surroundings as far as the eye can see and then, seeing nothing, he allows it to dim to no more than a dull radiance cast about them for a few yards. Exhausted, he slumps to his knees, breathing heavily. Elmariyë, for her part, still crouched in an awkward position in mid-turn, allows herself to sink back into a sitting position. For a moment they take stock of the situation, catching their breath and looking about them in silence. Then Eldarien says, "Those were no ordinary wolves. Of that there is no doubt. But this is not the first time I have come to know of the way that the darkness that arises in our land can poison and twist the instincts even of the wild animals. A bear acted similarly when it attacked the homestead of Rorlain and his father. It is frightening...and surprising. Never would wolves attack their prey relentlessly until their entire pack is slain, unless they are driven by some other force—not hunger but the impulse to destroy."
"And the horses?" breathes Elmariyë.
"Aye, that is deeply unfortunate," her brother replies, rising now to his feet and walking through the snow to the center of their camp. He wipes clean the blade of his sword and sheathes it once again and then helps Elmariyë to her feet. "One horse is slain and the other has fled. And I know not how we could hope to find it in this darkness, unless it returns to us of its own accord."
"Should we wait for it, to see if it does so?" Elmariyë asks.
"I would rather not linger here longer than necessary."
"What about the carcasses?"
"I think we have no choice but to leave them. Other beasts shall find them and devour them." Eldarien pauses, and then adds, "But I will, if you feel comfortable with it, take some meat from the fallen horse, to replenish our rations. We have but a little salt, though enough to keep it at least for a while."
"Of course that is fine with me. I think it is a prudent decision. Though I grieve for the loss of the horses, both because they were noble beasts and because they were a gift entrusted to us."
"Indeed...and also because the journey shall be longer and more difficult on foot."
"Yes...and that as well."
Elmariyë rekindles the fire to provide some light and warmth while Eldarien sets to work retrieving some meat from the fallen horse. Dawn has come, if the slight lightening of the darkness in the east is any indication, by the time that he has gathered what is feasible to carry. When his work is concluded Elmariyë extinguishes the remnants of the fire and they are greeted again by the full extent of the darkness that surrounds them, the sun climbing and commencing day with light hardly more than a night with a partial moon, though now bereft of both sky and stars. Slinging their packs again over their shoulders and casting a final, pained glance upon the wreckage that surrounds their camp, they set off to the north.
† † †
The going is difficult now with their horses lost, and with the layer of snow that covers the ground, but they press on nonetheless without halting. And as they walk, the hearts of both spontaneously reach out to the west, across the Stïeka Mara and through the woods, to the velstadeä, to the abode of the Velasi, their people as much as the rest of the people of Telmerion. In each of them resides a longing to return hence and to walk again in the peaceful lanes sheltered in the dappled light under the boughs of the ancient trees, and to sit with their undying brethren in converse and in prayer, and to see again their grandparents and the great father whose wisdom and guidance were for them such a boon and consolation.
But haste draws them on through the darkness to the destination that awaits them, and so they march, through day and night with what rest they need, until the Stïeka Mara disappears behind them and they come again to the sheer stone walls that, when they were last here, had shone in the light of the moon. Here they stop and prepare to set up camp for a time. But as they do so, a sense of great danger and the sickly hand of terror reaches out to grasp their hearts. They recognize the feeling and immediately stop what they are doing and look around, though the darkness conceals all from sight. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, Eldarien allows some light to pass into it and through it, shining upon their surroundings. And as he does so, the eyes of both are drawn to a flutter of movement in the direction of the cliff, hovering on the very edge of the circle of light.
Stepping forward into full light, the figure laughs with wicked mockery and hollow glee. And even as it draws near and they lay their eyes upon it, its form remains somehow intangible, eluding the fullness of sight, like wisps of cloud slinking in the shadows or mist curling about the hollows of the earth. And yet the figure takes the shape of a man, ever shifting and changing and yet walking forward without footprint or sound across the snow toward Eldarien and Elmariyë, who are frozen where they stand, gripped with terror.
"Do you like the garb that I have put on, that I may speak to you?" asks the figure.
"You are…" Eldarien breathes, but he does not finish the thought.
"The Lord of Mæres," says the mysterious form, still moving forward and closing the distance between them. "I did not think that I would have the displeasure of meeting you again, lugbuch. But since it so happens that I must, I wished to bring you a new recipe of terrors. This guise, of course, is the least of them, for the things that are seen are immeasurably less terrifying than those that are unseen. This I have learned in my long time of contemplation. What bliss it was for me to make the hidden places of the mind the playground of my horrors, exploring every nook and every cranny of fear within human hearts. But, of course, you forced my hand and stirred me to again take an interest in the affairs of the world. You can consider it your fault, therefore, that my creatures have awoken in great number and now lay waste the world of men."
"You lie," Elmariyë replies. "Like all your kind, you lie."
"Oh, you think I do, little princess?" the Lord of Mæres mocks. "Our kind cannot lie. All we do is speak the truth."
"No, all you do is convince yourselves that your lies are the truth," retorts Eldarien.
"But how readily men believe them," laughs the Lord of Mæres. "After all, what is truth but what one chooses to believe? Believing it makes it so. The world itself is but an illusion, but a shadow, as much as is the guise that I wear right now. I could appear to you as anything that I wish, even in a guise of what you would call goodness. Would you accept me then as one of your own?"
"I pray that whatever guise you choose to wear, I would see through it to the abiding truth underneath, and so act from this seeing as I ought," replies Eldarien, his voice growing in firmness as his will gains mastery over the fear that seeks to overwhelm him. When the Lord of Mæres does not immediately reply, though it is obvious that this response disgusts him, Eldarien asks, "Why have you truly come? I do not think that it is I who have forced your hand, but another."
"No. None force my hand. It was but a manner of speech."
"That is not true. Though you may deny it, you are subservient to another, and you must subject yourself to his commands, even if only to avoid the punishment that he would inflict upon you for your disobedience."
"You are a perceptive one, aren't you?" the figure says. "You are right in this: the Lord of Darkness sent me to you, just as he called me from my castle into the light of day once again. Of course, this light has now descended into ceaseless night."
"Why did he send you?" Elmariyë asks.
"To destroy you. He tires of your meddling and wishes for you to be exterminated," explains the Lord of Mæres. "And yet, so that all may know that I obey none, regardless of any punishments they may wish to inflict upon me, I shall follow my own course unhindered." By now the figure has stopped directly in front of Eldarien and Elmariyë, like a swirling cloud of smoke the heat of which almost scorches their faces and causes the snow all around them to melt. "Would you like to see what I have prepared for you? I think you shall enjoy it."
"No more talking," retorts Eldarien. "We shall resist you here and now."
"No more talking indeed," the Lord of Mæres says.
Suddenly and without further warning, and regardless of any effort that they make to prevent it, Eldarien and Elmariyë are submerged in a current of power that flows forth from the Lord of Mæres. They feel the shock of the impact overwhelm them as if a surge of electricity or a heavy blow with blunt force, and their consciousness is wrenched from their bodies. They find themselves caught up in a kind of waking dream—or rather waking nightmare—into the consciousness of the Lord of Mæres. They experience the malice that seeps throughout his very being and feel, in a kind of unified vision, both his superior intelligence and also his profound folly. For a moment they glimpse in some small way what drives a creature such as this, who once was one of the highest of created beings, pure and spiritual and glorified in the radiance of the undimmed light pouring from the heart of the Creator, and now one of the basest beings in existence, capable of nothing but evil and destruction, hatred and pride.
But as quickly as this moment comes upon them, it passes, and their attention is directed elsewhere. Their minds are caught up into the air above the earth and, in passing, they behold their own bodies still standing as though paralyzed in the space between tree and stone, between the feet of the mountain and the tree-laden wilderness. But then higher they ascend, until they are looking down upon the land of Telmerion from an incredible height. They see laid out below them the expansive range of the Teldren Mountains, north and south as far as the eye can see, and cradled in their midst, to their left, the Velasi Forest, and far to their right, the Galas Basin, in which lies the ruined village of Falstead and the barrow of Sera Galaptes. Far above these, nestled in the heights of the mountains is the great and ancient castle of Sera Galaptes, and the destination of their journey. As they continue to look out across the landscape, their vision extends even to beholding what lies on the other side of the mountains, where the Finistra Range extends forth from the higher Teldren peaks like a ripple in the earth, until ending in the great city built upon the craggy heights overlooking the crashing ocean, the city of Brug'hil. Yet nearer at hand, though still hundreds of miles distant, held in the midst of these mountains, is the city of Minstead; and it is in conflict. The figures of men and beast appear before them in combat, swords and claws, light and darkness, dancing back and forth, each struggling for the upper hand.
Then the voice of the Lord of Mæres ripples through their minds and permeates them, ravaging their consciousness like a burst of intense sound tearing eardrums. "I want you to behold the destruction that I sow with my own eyes, as I myself behold it. But because you are such frail creatures, and so weak of sight, this is the best that I can do. Still, I wish for you to look with me...and while I delight, you shall despair."
Eldarien and Elmariyë both, in their own way, seek to respond to the Draia's words, and yet they find themselves incapable, their thought as though bound and held captive by a superior power. Instead, helpless, they are forced to watch the scene that now unfolds before them.
"Come forth, terror of the deep, come forth, hidden division in the heart of the One's creation, and split the earth asunder that all may know that the powers of darkness rule, and that what they sow in the hearts of men is far deeper and truer than the lies uttered by the powers of light."
After these words are spoken, there is a deafening roar like the splitting of a tree in the forest or a crackle of thunder close at hand, or rather like the splitting of every tree upon the face of the earth and the snapping of the very fabric of the continent. And so it is: before their very gaze the surface of the earth begins to buckle and to give way, as if some invisible force is pressing upon it from above, crushing rocks to dust and stones to powder. A long crease appears upon the face of Telmerion like a tear in cloth or leather, and the land breaks open, a jagged scar extending across the face of the earth. It begins from the Stïeka Mara and extends forth to the west, cutting through the very heart of the Velasi Forest and crossing through the midst of the mountains—splitting them so thoroughly that half of a peak shifts to the south and half to the north—and continuing all the way to the northwest, to Minstead, whence the chasm closes again.
Before their horrified gaze the entirety of the Velasi Forest sinks into the pit that now opens like a weeping scar upon the face of Telmerion, and is gone. Next the city of Minstead, lying directly in the path of the chasm, draws their gaze. And yet, as the earthrend reaches it, the tearing turns suddenly to the south, splitting the land not far from the southernmost wall of the city and sending the entire city upward on a shelf of land rising as the continent groans and shifts, accommodating its weight to this new change. From the newly opened chasm fire licks as from a furnace, scorching all vegetation in its vicinity, and from these flames also belch forth poisonous vapors that harm all living things with which they make contact. But even as the flames and the vapors emerge, spreading as if to climb forth from the chasm and to reach their tendrils across the land, a strong wind begins to blow and in but a few moments the destroying forces return into the pit from whence they came. And then, as suddenly as it has begun, it ends. With a deathly hush, all falls into silence. For a moment Eldarien and Elmariyë feel the exultant triumph of the Lord of Mæres, an intoxicated delight in the extent of his own power and in the destruction that he has effected; and yet in the midst of this triumph there is a thin thread of confusion, though neither of them understands what it means. A moment later both the triumph and the confusion, the malice and the incredible evil, release them, and they find themselves again in their own bodies, which collapse now to the earth, shaking and exhausted under the strain of what was done to them.
They look up, now through their own eyes—weak and limited, yes, but deeply cherished—upon the figure of the Lord of Mæres. Filled with grief and fury, Eldarien tries to rise to his feet, tears bursting uncontrollably from his eyes. But he is too weak and sinks immediately back to the earth. Elmariyë, at his side, weeping as well, reaches out and clings frailly to his arm. "They are gone, Eldarien, they are gone!" she cries, anguish overwhelming her. In response he reaches out and places his hand upon hers, his attention divided now between his own pain, his desire to enfold his sister in her agony, and his wish to confront and to destroy the Lord of Mæres here and now. But cloaking all three of these together is an incredible grief, a grief so deep and wide that it cripples both his mind and his flesh, in the awareness of the sheer destruction worked by this malicious creature who stands before them, this despiser and destroyer of all that is good.
At last Eldarien gains enough control of himself that he is able to speak, and though he opens his mouth to address the Lord of Mæres, to call out and condemn his wickedness and his evil, when his voice finally emerges in his throat, something very different comes out: "My dear sister, let us lament for the wound that has been inflicted upon our beautiful land, and for the destruction of unity and life that this despicable creature has wrought. But he is a fool, a petty and selfish fool, if he thinks that he can break by force the spirit that guides the world, and the love that unites deeper than any bond."
Then he rises to his feet, and Elmariyë rises with him, and they lace their hands together in mutual support, even as their bodies continue to shake with sobs and with grief. "Depart from us, you beast," Eldarien cries. "I refuse to call you by the title that you have chosen for yourself, for it is but an arrogation to which you have no right. No, rather, I call you by your true name, and in speaking it I exorcise you from our land. So I say: Midrochus, begone, and come not hence for all the ages of the world!"
In response to these words, Midrochus cries out as in anguish, and the shadowy form that he has taken bursts into flames, consuming itself like a dry tree until nothing remains, and his spirit takes flight to other places, cast away by a light greater than his darkness, there to nurse resentment and hate, and yet to be bound forevermore from ever again directly afflicting the people of Telmerion. For though Eldarien, the Lightborn, has spoken, it is the Light that has spoken through him, and thus the exorcism is true, manifesting a power greater than any man, though through man it flows.
When Midrochus has gone, Eldarien and Elmariyë, still clinging to one another, walk on through the darkness, illumined only by the light that shines still through Eldarien though he knows it not, until they come to the edge of the chasm that has opened across the face of the earth. For a moment the light spreads wider and they behold something of the chasm's expanse, a gaping pit many leagues deep and wide, with sheer walls of stone as if cut by a massive blade, undulating down and down into the darkness.
Suddenly another voice sounds in the air around them, heard by both of them, though the tenor of this voice, and its effect, is the opposite of the voices of the Draion. It seems as if singing into them with peace and with comfort, like an ocean of compassion flowing into their hearts and holding them in their grief. The voice, which both of them know to be that of the Anaia, Hiliana, says unto them: "Where before the earth had been split by the hand of Eldaru to spare the lives of the innocent against the bloodlust of the wicked, so now the earth has been split asunder, and both more widely and more deeply, to bring grief and destruction. What is this but a mockery offered by a lesser power to a greater, like the tantrum of an ungrateful child who tears apart the gift given to him and flings it back at the giver? But, dear children, though you weep and lament, know that life too has been spared this day, beyond your knowing and your sight. For though darkness works evil to destruction, the light works always to safeguard and to heal."
For a few minutes it seems as though the voice has passed, though Hiliana's presence remains, and through her and with her the presence of the One who sent her. But then she speaks again, as if in farewell, though they know and trust that she shall never leave them: "You shall soon walk into a darkness deeper than you have ever known, and the grief that you now carry could be a hindrance to you, weakening your heart and binding your spirit. Release it now, therefore, in trust, and in this trust walk forward. For whence you go, I shall not be able to speak to you, for so it is ordained. But the light shall never depart from you. Believe in this, and know that the greatest wish of the forces of darkness is to destroy the wonder, freedom, and play of the children of the All-Giver, and, could they do so, the wonder and play of the All-Giver himself. Could they plunge him into darkness and blot out his light with their darkness, they would do so without reserve or hesitation. But instead they attack his works and the beloved of his heart. You, children, are the beloved of his heart. Yet know that he shall suffer in you in coming days; yes, he shall suffer for you, but his light shall not be eclipsed. In all and beyond all, the gaze that is his—oh, that you could know it fully, and you shall!—this gaze of ceaseless wonder and delight, shall burn through every darkness, shall pierce through every evil, and shall shine forth, turning all unto light once again, and bathing the world in the playful delight and lighthearted wonder that are his eternally, in the intimacy of joy and the joy of intimacy."