Varlarsaga Volume 3 - Consolation

Chapter 69 - Truth, Lie, or Riddle, or something in the Middle

Amidst sorrow, apprehension and jubilation the scores of thousands at Aileen, sailed and rode away. Mostly, the elves and their kindred took to the sea; departing in the ships saved from World Serpent's destruction. To Goldal's joy, her daughter Alluin had not perished, nor had Aneurin Foamhair; though they together had ridden the wild waves of peril, washed far into the depths of ocean's clutches. But the elven craft with them were much depleted. Barely a third of that vast armada had survived the ravages of wave and foam.

Yet still the peoples of the Elloræ went and they wept at what had come to pass. And they wept the more for Corin; he who was left behind.

Of the others there, in the main were Men, Pents and Dwarves. And reluctant were so many of those Zwerge folk, who hankered for their Ramabad home, that they proved especially resistant to change. They had dwelt very long in the mountains and could not bear to be parted from them. Even after the entreaties of Dalfin Farinmail, the Dwarf King Elbegast would not be moved and so, in The Ramabad, tarried the greater part of the King's peoples, with the exception of those few thousands whom Farinmail persuaded to follow at his lead.

Of mortals, Possum Wollert and his people chose to join with the men of the North World who, by need, travelled landward under the banner of one leader. Now it was, that Menkeepir came into his own; singled out, as was prophesied, to guide those who would accept his sovereignty to some safe place, free from World's woundings. With him, apart from his brother Mendor and the Lorda Minca, who seemed now never far from their side, rode Wanax Orsokon, and King Ordrick; both respectively heading their own peoples. Whilst about the feet of those thousands horse, ran a flock and more of Rî-mer-Rīan Pents; hurrying, scurrying, like russet leaves on the wind. And thus, the multitudes left on Aileen Plain departed, vanishing swiftly over a day and a night; even unto those who walked slow, for far can be trod with firm, resolved step.

Behind them, at their leave taking, the shadows of the east-setting sun lingered on raised graves; the tumuli and tumps that were the burial mounds of the fallen. Those leaving loved ones lying there turned, last grieving upon the heights, to look down at the Plain where a wide lake had long hidden its secrets and where now slept so many into eternity. Silval and Elvra and the Daræ Lady Talisar were amongst them; yet too, their thoughts reached out to the living, to Corin.

 

By the morning of the following day, scant was there left behind of the past events. Only a bitter waste of charcoal; remnant of funeral pyre, heaped amongst the grey, shattered trees. Wind moaned across a no-creature's-land. Empty, hummed the sighs of Earth-Mouth and Earth-Skin. The blowing rags of anything that had been there: torment of battle, horror, squalor, sudden or slow-dwindling death, hardship and labour, hope and loss and valour, were all gone. The Plain of Aileen lay, purged to the white bone. And the bones were the trees of a forest long bereft and withered, bleaching through wastrel time.

Corin, in vain for long whiles, sought to fix his eyes, his mind, upon this deserted and hostile landscape. He stood upon Earth-Lip, looking out, blinking in the light. Behind him, gathered the last of the Black Elves. Loriandir was with them. And conversely, these peoples were overawed. They had not seen the surface for ages of time. This bleakness was their first glimpse; yet to them, it appeared as a paradise previously forsaken. The air itself was blissful to these forlorn, forgotten, banished Daræ. The sky-blue, to them, a vault of sudden wonder; a revelation. Why had they spent themselves, downward in Earth's Heart, when all life leapt upward? What amount of Orichalc, with all its many powers and properties, could buy Varlar's light and living quintessence? Dismayed, the Daræ were long to ponder that greed and folly, and the lust for knowledge and greatness which had brought them to transgression and the forsaking of such wide-world above. Indeed, it seemed to them that they looked out, as if for the first time.

‘You have survived and triumphed in your quest, I see,’ said a deep and solemn voice nearby.

Corin, startled, turned and there, seated upon a flat stone above the entrance to Earth Mouth, was the Wizard He´Remon. He was quite alone in all that wide land. And it appeared that he had been patiently waiting.

‘He´Remon!’ Corin exclaimed, taking a step toward him. ‘What has happened here? Where have they gone?’

‘They, if you mean Elves and Men and their allies, have departed eastward. The four Morrigi, the Witches, set out with them: the Bird, over the ocean whereon Aneurin's boats still float. The Moth, with Men on land. The Wolf and Toad together into northern places, to glean what can be gleaned of those enemies of the Free-Folk, still abroad. For myself, I deigned to bide awhile with the Zwerge who would not leave the Ramabad, and await your arrival hither.’

‘Then everything was not in vain, O Wizard. Those dear of Varlar have survived?’

The Wizard stroked his long nose. ‘Some. Many lost their lives, and that inventory is yet not complete. The list is long and my memory of each who died is fading. If there be special ones, name them, and I shall endeavour to recall.’

Corin hesitated. There were names too loved by him that he dared not speak, for fear of what fate he might hear. At last he said, ‘Perhaps, before we speak of this, I should tell you of these folk, who come up from the innermost Earth-Heart.’ He gestured behind, to those clustered about him.

‘They are known to me already,’ replied the Wizard. ‘If not by name, then by right-guess. This Lady is the Fane, Loriandir. And these black-clad folk are the Daræ, the Dark-Elves.

‘That is true,’ said one, standing forth and throwing back his mantling hood. 'I am Prince Nolar of the Dhu-Elfer. These few with me are all that be left of the many Daræ who ventured into Earth-Spine and beyond, save those passed redemption, locked below. Or these, whose bodies we bear, empty now of Varlar's life.’ He gestured to the huddled forms of their dead. ‘Of them is Thornæf, King of the Dark-Elves; mighty amongst us, yet leader into doom. And now his doom has befallen him. Though it might be just and right to say that such was warranted, he would be glad now, I know, that his survivors have seen the light and perceive again the Day of the World.’

‘Prince Nolar, whom I now deem the highest of these peoples, speaks fairly and fair,’ said Loriandir, rising up and addressing the Wizard, so that she caught his reddened eyes with hers. ‘And if you know me already why then do I search in vain for knowledge, or memory of you?’

‘The tale of Loriandir Fane and Themion the Man, has wandered into legend, 0 Lady of the Elloræ. There is nothing strange in this, for I am a Wizard, and have intelligence of much; even unto such story.’ Courteously, He´Remon raised himself from the stone whereupon he sat and bowed his head low before that Lady Fane. Almost comically, his beard dangled and scratched over the barren earth and his long, conical hat did not fall off, though well it should. He bent a moment, then stretched upright and it was as if he grew above even Loriandir's stature. And it seemed that she, herself, was taken aback.

Then again, the Wizard spoke. ‘Master Corin, are you prepared now to hear of events befallen since your departure? Are you so composed as to ask of those alive and those now dead? If you be so, thence say unto me, and I shall do my best to tell; and in the telling, do so as mercifully as is possible.’

Then, with summonsed courage, Corin begged the dreaded answers to his questions one by one, and was answered, yes or no. And each answer was a hurt of heart, or a glad relief; dependant on this reply or that, until he knew the worst, and the best.

‘You have been kind with me,’ he said, at the end. ‘As kind as you could be, for news of life and death is hard, and harder to soften. And now I look away to the rises upon this Plain of Aileen and my eyes are cleared and I see them for the Mounds of the Lost that they are. There seems no end, no lightening to the load of misery which pervades and seeps relentlessly through Varlar. I am deeply saddened, for in many ways it is I who have brought down such woe.’

‘Then be heartened in this much; many more would have suffered and perished, but for you, O One Master.’ Thus spoke the low growl of a Wolf-voice, quite nearby. It was the Shan, Bozkirt; appeared out of nowhere, or so it seemed. With him, sitting squat upon a low eminence, was Bufo the Toad. None had observed their coming. The Wolf and the Toad were simply there, as if they had always so been.

‘We have come back for you,’ boomed the Toad, ‘for without us to guide, ye shall not go whence those before have gone. The place of the Taiga is hidden to all eyes, save ours. There alone, in all the world, safety lies. It is of urgency that we travel swift; the time of Varlar is short, ere its snuffing.’

‘Are we few here then, the only ones left to make that journey?’ asked Corin.

‘All,’ returned Bozkirt, ‘but for that portion of the dwarf kingdom who trust to their deep mansions, rather than heed the dangers.’

‘But what of Varlar's wild creatures,’ Corin ventured, ‘bird and beast and the like.’

‘They are a part of the great migration; those at least wise enough to go.’

‘I see,’ said Corin slowly. ‘Then, O Wolf-Shan of the Morrigi, we must trust in your words and take your lead.’

The Wolf shook his maned head. ‘These folk about you, One Master, are at leave to do so. Yet you have still a task before you; if so, of free-will, you do choose.’

‘I am not to go?’ Corin sighed, as if already resigning himself.

‘To that we cannot say,’ croaked Bufo. ‘It is your decision alone to make. Though on what you decide, depends much. These others, who stand here with you now, may never reach their destination without your further labour.’

‘Then I am well doomed, no matter which road I should choose,’ Corin murmured, casting his gaze to the four winds. ‘Very well. I have expected death for a long time; it comes as no dreaded stranger to me. What is it that you call on me to do?’

‘You will take up this final task, knowing that it will give a hope of life to others, at your own life's peril?’ asked Bozkirt.

‘Yes,’ Corin answered without hesitation. ‘Though I would beg one favour in return.’

‘That is?’

‘Well,’ he said earnestly and humbly, ‘I have wandered through my passing life in search of knowledge, of answers to riddles confronting me at every turn. At times, I thought I had some notion as to the meanings. But now, I am aware that I know none. Will you not tell me the truth, that I may be at peace?’

Bozkirt seemed to ponder a moment. ‘Scarce grow the hours. Still, you have more than earned the right to ask such a thing. I will tell you what you crave, though even now much is guess and there maybe is more that We ourselves have been able to rede.’ The great grey Wolf licked a paw and began, ‘I tell you things that have come to Us, not at the beginning, but in times later. After the long ago when the Daræ had broken into Earth-Heart and so caused chaos by letting loose the Powers of that realm, after Drotnar Lord Valandir had defeated those Powers and driven them within, where they fast-shut themselves against His entrance so that He, in consternation, heaped His own strengths upon the Adamantine Gates so that they could not be opened from either side, and after His fall, locked together with the She-Wolf Sköl into the deep vaults of Earth-Eye, Varlar became as a world without true motion; halted of progress, of destiny, of natural growth. Through the Scales of Balance between Evil and Good or, if you like, the Wild Untamed and the Ordered, a bar had been thrust; fixing them, until such time as it might be removed, if ever that time would come. For long that seemed impossible and the world of Varlar lay transfixed upon those motionless scales. Yet there was one almighty force still unleashed, uncontained, prowling, awaiting. This was, and is The Great World Serpent Nardred and the Powers that control It. For there are still such Beings at large in the world. These are the Powers that own and harness that awful Beast of the world-seas. At any time, could They have unleashed It, to Varlar's destruction. But They did not, though the threat has been omnipresent throughout the ages. Why did They not? Ah, maybe it was that They guessed a key lay somewhere; lost, hidden perhaps, which might serve to open the portals of Earth-Mouth once again and so render Their ultimate purpose, not the destruction of Varlar, but the enslavement of it by the Māādim and the dominions of Chothic Powers. Since, you see, these Rulers of the World-Serpent, though not nigh as strong in terrible, bestial ferocity as the arms of the Choths, The Māādim, were in many ways the real masterminds of Evil thoughts and workings. They were the Heads and Hands that turned the wheels of hatred against Varlar, and all that dwelt freely thereon. They were the planners, the instigators, the catalysts of knowledge, of intelligence; totally devoted to Their one aim. Without Their secret and insidious work, the Daræ themselves would never have been tempted to break those seals of Earth-Spine in that long ago. It was not the lure of Orichalc alone that wrought such calamitous events. No. They, Rulers of the Nardred, were corrupted by the desire for utter domination, and thus did They corrupt others to Their use. They have always been. As have We, the Morrigi. And as They wield Their strengths, Their manipulations, We, against Them, use Our wiles and subtleties; that the world shall not rot and fester, nor fall beneath the lee of Their shadow.’

Bozkirt took pause, padded away to watch the eastern horizon and the Toad carried on the thread. ‘The Wolf spoke of a key; a key that might be used to open the deep realms of Earth-Heart. What, and where could such a key be; how fathomed and found? Ahh, Valandir held the Power to strip away His shutting spells, even wherein He lay, incarcerated. Though He would not do so, as long as all time whirled by. Not torture, nor cunning, nor any connivance of illusion could alter that. Yet, with His imprisonment it was plain that the Māādim, bound by His spells, might still emerge to win the world. For Valandir was the last bastion against Them, and He was held captive, silenced, emasculated; except for His stricture of the Adamantine Gates. For Their part, the Māādim could throw down the defences within at any time. But They could not remove the shutting spells, nor the deep waters that swirled above; both of those constraining barriers caused by Valandir. Only one chance, one slim possibility, held They within Their grasp. And that possibility was inherent within this Lady, Loriandir. She whom They well knew had come down into Earth-Heart, searching for her lost love Themion the Man. But she would not be easily broken or put to Their use, if indeed They had a use at that time. Perhaps They had merely the glimmer of a suspicion that Loriandir kept a secret from Them. And so the Māādim plied Themion, seeing in him the weakness of mortals; love and hope. And They worked upon his fears of what They might do to his love, and They kept him in hope that They would do nothing so long as he obeyed Them. Seeking the depths of his heart, They learned of the birth of a child; first and only union of Man and Fane and there, after that precious life, They set to work Their pursuits. Since it seemed to Them that in the child of a Fane, a high Fane such as Loriandir daughter of Engilmar, might They have discovered a weakness; a key to exploit. Was that not the way of it, O Lady Fane?’

Loriandir bowed her head. ‘You are wise in your guessings Toad. Long it was before They discovered Themion and I, hidden as we were. But that was only a matter of time, for even wrapped invisible we could not escape the all-seeing eyes of the Choths, who Themselves have such abilities. We were hunted and captured; though Earth-Heart is vast, there was no escape. Then They trifled with us until They gleaned knowledge of our child. After that, They harmed me not, since to do so would have gone against Their plottings. Yet as They flayed and tortured Themion, little by little, was I forced to Their will.’

‘Of course They spared you,’ said Bufo, ‘for in you, They had a link with the world above, with something that might be used to Their advantage, indeed might secure a path, once more, to the surface. They saw that if the child could be found and woken and reared, and drawn to you in belief and innocence, then would They have the perfect emissary to approach Valandir; to convince Him to renege His holding, binding spells over Earth-Heart. Thus, began Their web of deceit. Themion was Their instrument. He, They proceeded to slowly deprave and pervert; a method more excruciating, more exquisitely painful, than any torture that could be applied to one such as this High-Fane Lady. It was, after all, She whom They strove to bend to Their will.’

‘I see now the truth of this,’ replied Loriandir, tears welling in her eyes. 'During my agonies, I suffered in silence, at first. Then I begged for mercy, that They leave off Themion's destruction. But They were relentless. I offered myself in his place. I called upon any who might aid me. There were none. I called upon those of my peoples, all long gone from above. There were none left in the world, save Valandir the Drotnar, and He was far away, and did not come.’

‘He did not come, for He could not hear you,’ said Bufo. ‘And even had He, there was not a way for Him to come, since He was bound by Sköl within Earth-Eye.’ The Toad turned his gaze to Corin. ‘In that babe, concealed from everyone, lay Loriandir's only solace. The one who might appeal to Valandir, for Her's, and Themion's release. And as the long ages passed, and Themion's slow transformation continued, She called the more for Corin, child born of Her and Man; Man who was taken and corrupted before Her very eyes. Thence did the Māādim seek to make it known to the outside world that this child existed. That They were aware of Us, is as certain as that We were aware of Them.

And They sought to exploit Our Powers to Their advantage. For the Māādim, and the Masters of the World-Serpent; those whom They kept above as vassals and spies, realised that even if the Corin could be found, the babe would be useless to Their ends, until woken and grown. How to awake this sleeper? They knew not. Loriandir, the spell-binder, was locked beyond the Gates of Adamantine with Them; useless to Their aim. But of Us, the Morrigi, They yet held a hope. If any in Varlar's realms could raise that Fane-Spell, They deemed We might. Further, They desired it so, that the child be arisen and called to its quest, without hint nor taint, nor suspicion of Their intervention or needs. They thought to use Good, for Evil's sake. And so, They sent rumour throughout the world above that They were repentant. That the Daræ had triumphed over Them. They allowed the pleas of Loriandir, pining for Her Corin, to filter out of Their veil of darkness; that such as We, might hear and heed. Patiently waited They, since time meant nothing to Them, for events to unfold.

Was it chance that led to the discovery of the casket wherein lay a tiny, sleeping infant? Chance, Fate or contrived artifice? Perhaps none shall ever know. Yet when the man, Forinth, unearthed that long lost treasure; took it from bony fingers which had ceased to clutch, and pushed it out so that day's light again revealed it to the world, the Scales of Balance trembled. Could the Masters of the World-Serpent have knowledge of this event? Maybe. But such was not ripe for Their intervention then. No. They watched in secret, I guess, and waited for news. Was Bili Jackdaw guided to that windswept ledge by Their cunning, or was it merely coincidence? Still, be that as it may, once discovered, We bade the casket brought before Us, borne in the clasping rakes of an eagle. And thence, the Corin, came beneath Our mantle. Long We pondered the riddle of this child, whilst the Māādim waited, and the Nardred slept beneath the curling oceans. Long debated were We, hearing only the murmurs of Earth-Heart allowed Us: the triumph of Daræ over Māādim, the cries of longing and anguish from the mother of the child that We possessed.

Long were We suspicious. Caution extended over a far time, whence nought altered. And what were We to do? It was clear to Us that the sleeping waif was, in truth, the child of Themion and Loriandir. The casket and the spiral circlet left no doubt of that. And it came to Us, as it had already to Others, that if this babe could be woken and nurtured, it might prove to be the one, the only one in all Varlar who might approach Valandir, there to beg His release of Earth-Heart Doors and those trapped within. For certainly, none other could seek the last of the Drotnar in His interment; not elf or man, nor dwarf. Not Friend, and surely, not Enemy. The Rulers of the Nardred, or Their advocates, least of all. And even if any might have passed the boundaries of Earth-Eye to reach Him, Valandir would not have heeded such entreaties. Only, guessed We, would He be moved to listen and act by one who believed utterly in that quest. By one of purest motive, prepared to suffer without falter, without stint, even unto life-loss. The Sleeper, unique in the world, seemed that fated one. But how to awaken? How to rouse from Dawn-slumber? Counter-Spells, We called up, Our lore and strength and power invoking. Breaking-Spells, Waking-Spells, We employed, to no avail. The child remained alive and nourished; yet ungrowing, unchanging. Warm, breathing, and asleep. We were defeated. Only She, who cast the babe to slumber, might that enchantment lift.’

‘Deeper, deeper, sleeps The Sleeper. Sighing, sighing, lonely lying. Lest comes a Great One, spell untying.’ Loriandir smiled radiantly. ‘And, in truth, I alone have that gift, the glamour upon mine own son, to lift. For long did I wonder if that were so, since the Māādim seemed certain that Corin had been woken by You, O Toad, and Your three companions.

‘That is what They were meant to believe,’ croaked Bufo. ‘But even now, Your Corin awaits; the incantation of sleeping-spell still unbroken.’

‘And where is my baby?’ Loriandir asked, eagerness plain in her words.

‘He is safe. Hidden deep within the forests of the Taiga. Cared for, as He was always since His discovery.’

Loriandir clasped her hands together in new hope. ‘I would come to him so soon, to glimpse the faint image of the Man his Father once was. And to raise him again into life.’

‘And You shall, if time and fate will allow,’ replied the Toad.

‘But will you not first finish your tale?’ asked the Wizard He'Remon.

‘Very well,’ said Toad, ‘it will be briefly told.’

Bozkirt the Wolf returned from his witherings to take seat beside his companion, and it was he who began again their strange tale. ‘We had the child in Our care, but not in Our power. The living key to Earth-Mouth and Earth-Heart was found, yet the key was unusable. The Doors were known to Us, though what could that avail when all We held was the incomplete key to a lost and forbidden lock? Valandir's entombment was known to Us. But We, The Morrigi, are merely The Unravellers. Our task was, and ever will be, the harmony of the world. Limits were placed upon Us ere Varlar's beginnings. It was not ordained that We might interfere by daring to approach a Drotnar Lord; such workings of the world are beyond Us. And so the long whiles of earth's seasons passed around and still We were confounded until chance, or providence, came Our way in the form of a second infant; a foundling in the wilderness. Moth discovered him, all alone and near to death, beside a beck in Dorthillion, here in this Northern Land. Of mortal kind was he, and why so abandoned We cannot say. Yet hard, even cruel though his parents were, he came to Us, and it was a welcome and unexpected good fortune. Since in that arrival were We presented with the surrogate for Lady Loriandir's Corin.’

Bozkirt's unblinking gaze seemed to sweep over those standing silently before him, and after a few moments the wolf continued, ‘Might We not have simply taken another at any time of Our choice? To that, the answer is no. It is not permitted that We disturb the order of things set in place. And who, of any peoples that dwell in Varlar, would willingly give up the fruit of their own union? Only that waif came beneath Our authority; perhaps born of those who desired not the child, perhaps left by a mother who, so distraught, threw herself into the stream and was washed away. Of this, Sayga the Seeress could find no explanation. Still, to Us fell an opportunity unsought and unguessed, and to that end We wove Our plans. For Our suspicions were not allayed by the murmurs of Earth-Heart and We feared lest We be used by the Powers of Evil. So, upon the second babe wreathed We the potent draught of sleep and sustained life within Our contrivance so that, side by side, both remained in Our keeping until the future might open a way forward. Generations of men came and went before that time arrived in a land most suitable; that island realm known by then as Ravenmoor, where Loriandir had given birth to her Corin-child. Sayga foresaw a Queen of Men in labour, the still-born child and the anguish of a King at the loss of his son and heir. So there, in that setting, in that moment of the world, seemed it mete to act out the awakening of The Corin. There, amidst those rebuilt halls, that had once been Themion's own, began Our counter-plot.’

Bozkirt cocked a knowing eye to them. ‘Now there are many questions you might ask. How, for instance, thought We to pass off a changeling to the Enemy? Or, indeed, to Valandir Himself ? As to The Rulers of The Nardred and Those imprisoned below in Earth-Heart, mattered it not if They discovered the ruse. If They believed the child to be Loriandir's own, then well and good. By Them all would be left for time and events to take their course; trusting that, in the end, The Corin be called and led toward his destiny, an audience with Valandir and hopefully the opening of the Adamantine Gates. If, on the other hand, They suspected, or even knew in certainty that We had placed an imposter upon the first step of Their quest-making, what be Their conclusion? That We had failed to revive the real Corin? That We were still beguiled by Their evil intentions and all unknowing yet desired to appeal to the Drotnar Lord? Ah, They were slaves, blinded by Their own faith in trickery. It shall be seen that at any time might They have snuffed the life of he who stands before you, this innocent Prince Mylor, Avarhli elf-friend, who thought himself Corin, son of Themion and Loriandir. But They did not. Instead, They waited, preferring to observe and manipulate the growing child from afar. For what threat could such a one pose to Them? Especially if he could be used to Their advantage. And mind, They were caught up Themselves within the grand play of fools and wise, of wiles and guiles and powers hidden behind many masks. No. Whatever was in the darkness of Their thoughts, We now guess that They were content to follow Our doings; to watch, and to intervene where and if needed. For what was Theirs to lose? Either this growing child would open the way for Them, or not. Imposter or no, he was Their only hope. So always, during the early part of young Mylor's life, did They impose a beckoning through the curtained Voices of Loriandir and Their own. As did We call him to Us. And betwixt he survived, pitted and torn by struggle both outward and within. He came to hear, to believe his name, Corin. He grew into Corin, accepting all that befell him. Thus, in so doing he shook off the bindings that held him, daring limits far beyond his own imaginings. At whiles he was aided, both by Good and Evil, to achieve his goal. At last, did he come to the Drotnar Valandir, through horror and hardship. Evil had waited, watching, coaxing; hopeful all the long time that this emissary might bring about the plotted release of Varlar's would-be Governors, The Māādim. And through those turnings of Sun and Moon, from his beginnings in Ravenmoor, this false Corin was honed and tested, tried and tortured and convinced by Them and Us, in preparedness for that meeting. For the Ruling Powers of the World Serpent believed, as did Their Masters The Māādim, that We, the Morrigi, were playing into Their hands. But They were unaware of knowledge kept undisclosed by Us. Do you think that the steed Darkelfari came to Valandir by merest accident? That the circlet-crown of Loriandir's child, handed down to Her from High-Fane and to Them from Drotnari above, was of little consequence? That crown, now transformed, he before you wears as the Ring of Enduring Grace. The same that Valandir wielded against His Foe. And the black raiment, worn by this child of mortals, is the very garment of Valandir that We, long ago, took into Our possession, after that World-Lord's fall. Think you that these were given without reason? Nay, all three had purpose. Our purpose. For the truth, hidden behind the masks was thus; to send a chosen emissary, aye. Chosen by both sides, Evil and Good, to seek the opening of the Underworld. But also, to release Valandir from His entombment, that He should gain entrance and control of that realm, thus finally making it His domain.’

‘But why, if the powers to free Valandir from His bonded prison were within Your grasp, had You not used them earlier?’ asked the Wizard, in some consternation.

Bozkirt Wolf appeared almost to grin. ‘We have spoken of bans placed upon Us, so that We might not directly interfere in such matters. ‘Those strictures remained. Yet Our greatest limitations were those of Our Enemies. To have shown Our purpose before the time was ripe may have resulted in Valandir's freedom, yet never then would the Adamant Gates have been opened. No. You see, the time had to be chosen by the Enemy, and only when They were satisfied all was to Their way. It had to seem that Valandir could never be released. That everything was safe for Those below to emerge and claim Varlar as Theirs. So whilst They dreamt and schemed for Our beguilement, thus did We for Theirs. It needed to appear that We were at last motivated to action. That We believed enough to set the wheels in motion toward unlocking Valandir's spells over Earth-Heart.’ Bozkirt fixed his gaze upon He´Remon. ‘Of course this work of deception's deception might never have come to pass, but for your mighty accomplishment, Oh Wizard-wise.’

For a moment, the Wizard appeared somewhat abashed. ‘If you speak of my labour to empty the Mälar lake, it was but a trivial task compared against many of more consequence.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Bufo Toad, ‘it was a welcome work. One that We had not turned Our minds to. For Our thoughts were elsewhere. You achieved a service of much import, though you knew it not.’

He´Remon bowed his grizzled head. ‘Of certainty, I did not. And it seems then, that after my doing all went well with the laid plans?’

The Toad blinked, gulped and swallowed. ‘Our first obstacle was vanished; one in which the Enemy, no doubt, were well pleased, since They had never attempted its removal. To have done so would have been a betrayal of Their hopes and schemes. Instead They left that for Us to resolve, as We might eventually have so done if you had not been at hand. Still, it was done and the quest to reach Valandir went on. This one, who thought himself The Corin, chose to do so. Out of Free Will, he dared his body, his strength, for his belief; an honest belief founded on misconceptions. And thus came he through all perils, to Earth-Eye and Valandir. And he brought with him, unknowing, the steed bred to Drotnar Lord's hand, the Cape of Dark-Night fit to shroud Sköl's eyes that Valandir might defeat Her and the circlet-crown of Loriandir's babe. The very same that did as armlet for this innocent bearer, did as annoying ring upon the She-Wolf's ear, so that whilst She was distracted, Valandir seized His opportunity, covering Her in Darkest-Cloak and thereby subduing Sköl to His Will and Work. Whilst all eyes were turned elsewhere, watching and waiting the fortunes of this Quest-Bearer, Valandir was arising. Winning His long battle against Māādim She-Wolf, He emerged and with Him bore He the three signs of His coming again: the Mantle that rightly was His, the circlet-crown that would be wrought into the ring of Enduring Grace and the sacrificed horse Darkelfari, raised again by Valandir's healing hand. As attentions were turned to Earth-Mouth and the battle to win it, a struggle contrived by Evil ingenuity so that possession seemed the harder to obtain, Valandir grew in the north, in stealth, enlisting the aid of the Jutunn, those dim-witted, strong-armed giants; slovenly hulks of a forgotten, forsaken, forlorn Ice-dom. And with their aid, forged He a wielded army; force enough to beset the Powers of Earth-Heart who waited expectant, for the Doors to be unlocked by Their dupe, Corin the Quest-Bearer. Then, when everything appeared won by those Powers, Valandir and His host emerged out of the frozen north, and thus came about the downfall of They who conspired to overwhelm the world.’

‘That explains the meaning of my dream,’ said Corin, in slow wonder. ‘The vision of Bili Jackdaw seeking Earth-Eye, wresting the key to Earth-Heart. Overwhelmed, he fell dead in the snow. Thence was he lifted again to life by an all-encompassing hand. And he returned, bearing the key in his beak, to disappear into Earth-Mouth, against all Varlar-world's pleading. The jackdaw was, at once, Darkelfari and me. At once, the given steed it was my part to lead to Valandir, and the key that would find its way back through every terror, to the Adamant Doors. I was that key.’

‘Yes,’ nodded Bozkirt. ‘You were. And, to some extent, still are.’

Corin shook his head, bewildered. ‘But now you tell me that I am no more than a sprig of mortals, a frail child of folk unknown. I chanced all, risked this quest, believing otherwise.’

‘Made that, your task, any different? Less arduous, less harrowing?’ Bozkirt queried. ‘Mortal or not, you succeeded where no other could. You played your part in the grand scheme of the world. You were instrumental in moving the scales of Varlar that now, after many ages of meaningless time, are again winding forward. Yours has been effort and attainment beyond measure. Before this, you were not told these things for reasons now unfolded. Do you not understand? You had to believe that which We led you to believe, elsewise nought of this would have come to pass.’ The Wolf curved a paw to his muzzle. ‘Our time together is over, already too much is spent. Questions and answers there have been, and maybe more await unspoken. But world's time lingers no longer. We must go our appointed ways.’

Corin lifted his hands to Wolf and Toad. ‘Now that I have heard these words, what way, and to what purpose then am I to follow?’

‘We would bid you part from Us,’ offered the Toad. ‘We go to the Taiga. It is Our task to see these peoples there. They, and any left who will follow Us. But of you, oh Quest-Wanderer, We ask this final boon; seek the Enemy, the Riders Black-clad. Find Them and forestall Them, as long as you may. Perhaps Their desire for revenge upon you and your undoing of Their plans will give those Free-Folk of Varlar time enough to seek shelter before the Doom that is fated to come. Do this, though it mean your downfall, and mayhap some few shall be saved. The Enemy will hunt you, that is almost certain, for hatred and retribution upon him who thwarted Them will be utmost in Their hearts. Delay Them and your service will be to the succour of others. Every moment gained will be a step toward their safety.’

For a moment Corin's thoughts turned to the Daræ maiden Talisar, and a mixture of sadness and joy waxed full in his heart; a sorrow that he would never again come to her, or indeed to any that he loved. Yet joy too, that his past work had not been all in vain and that still, by his sacrifice, might he help those loved ones into a future that would not be his part to dwell within. ‘I will do this thing,’ he said at length. ‘I will go out into the wilderness and search for these Foes. But where shall I first look?’

‘Hopefully you will not need to search. They shall find you,’ answered Bufo. 'Take to the western ways; morass lies there, the longer to delay Them catching you, though They will come from whence they are now scattered. Draw Them to the ocean there, since many days are needed for Their delay. And remember this much, you are not powerless. You have strengths, not the least of which is courage. And you have the powers invested within you, in the emblems that you bear. Wield them wisely and well at time of need.’

Slowly Corin nodded, taking up a sack of provisions offered him by the Wolf, and turned to go. Then, his back to that saddened knot of folk, he said, ‘Tell those, whom I hold dearest, to be not aggrieved too much for me. Tell them that I loved them unto the end. And tell my Lady Talisar, if ever you should find her, that she is in my heart, and shall not leave that place.’



When Corin had passed from sight, Bozkirt bade the Toad climb upon his back, saying to those silent gathered, ‘I deem that haste is needed, for you have far to travel ere you reach the Taiga. Come, follow Toad and me.’

But the Wizard, who had remained pensive, shook his lofty head. ‘I will not be going with you. I have failed in my attempts to convince King Elbegast and his dwarf-folk to abandon their abode. Still, may it be that yon gone fellow, alone and courageous and adrift, could use my company. I shall follow him.’

‘As you will,’ said Bozkirt, lifting a paw in warning. ‘Though you know the danger, it is your decision.’

And so they parted. Wolf, Toad, Loriandir and the Daræ peoples to travel east where low set the sun. He´Remon the Wizard, after seeking supplies for the journey, tall and striding swiftly, marched toward the coming of evening that crept out of the west.

Chapter 70 [next]