The Land of Helakirtor; Chapter 5

Lives devoted and a sorrow most profound; cleave unto the light within thy soul, and all shall pass into naught. Though a talon of death should descend upon the breasts of men, and a fist of iron weigh heavy upon their hearts; though even the mighty ones of the darkness be made to cower within their inward parts, and those foul mists that burn and consume the throat should enshroud the mind; yet there wander through this realm spirits utterly absolved of fear. The seeds which Vahderun hath scattered do spring forth upon every side; and the valiant ones, who know not the bitter taste of dread, shall never cease, neither in Venefiorum nor in the lands of Perasimonor.

This is neither the first nor the final strife to be waged upon these lands; for the warriors, absolved of dread, shall never fail upon this path where the devoted do wander. It is the greatest of all glories to bear rule with an unshaken justice within this realm of mystery. Behold, this is no end, but the dawning of a new age in Helakirtor, the sovereign land of all realms. Lift up your heads unto the heavens, and gaze upon the howling firmament of Helakirtor; see that ye yield not unto that feeble terror which taketh the mind captive. Cleave unto one another and draw forth your strength, and put no trust in that accursed host whose very breaths are drawn down into the shadows.

Hard is the treading, and shrouded in doubt is the return upon this path. The day is the day of Algedot, and all that hath come to pass is but the herald of this inescapable doom. At times, even they who wander beneath the majesty of the ancient moon do find themselves caught in the midst of a slumber heavy with heedless ignorance. And yet, at times, they who dance with the head of the goat beneath the pallid moon do kindle the impassioned fires of the soul. Let not the pride of the moon’s innocent kindred, veiled in goodness and adorned with mirth, deceive thee; neither be thou beguiled by the eerie semblance of those strange women, who weave the dance of death within the darksome woods. On such a day, every soul doth set forth to serve by the measure of their own craft; for the true heart is made manifest unto the eyes that possess the light to see, upon the day of Algedot.

As the hills crumble unto dust and shower upon the earth, when hope doth begin to fade from the hearts of men, and pride doth take captive the virtue of wisdom; if dark clouds should begin to encompass thee round about, if those seeds of malice, heavy with dread, should mount within thy breast, and thou canst find no solace in any vessel of thy being against the relentless ascent of sorrow… In such an hour, cry out; yea, make one final call unto the fathomless deeps of thy soul. Passions that thrash with wrath, and desires that bide their time to be unveiled… The lamps that stand ready to burn do murmur for their kindling by the hope of a single spark. A realm poised upon the brink of the abyss doth remember the call of deliverance; and the multitudes gathered for mourning do cry aloud, in this hour, their sovereign shouts of liberty.

Armour of steel, a frame unshaken; yea, a shroud woven of silk is but a narrow measure for these valiant ones. Every soldier whose spirit swelleth beyond the bounds of his mortal vessel… In this heavy strife, there is no cause to look for a refuge, neither to seek the shelter of a bulwark. Whilst Death doth stalk upon every side, the adversary doth bide our coming in Taningor, that dark abode of evil. Ah, the gleam of the ancient moon upon that fair hill… What beauteous melody doth sound unto the ear, like unto the whispering rustle of the Tutelo leaf. Upon the one side, the valiant ones locked in bitter clash; upon the other, the radiant glimmer of the ancient moon… Let not thy spirit be troubled; for though the sun doth begin to sink into the shadows, the hopeful summons of that hill shall never leave us forsaken.

O realm of the reborn beyond the forgotten seas, O dauntless native of this ancient earth! O ye invincible warriors of Mare Rumbrum, who preserve your honour undefiled behind the veils of darkness! Hail unto you all from your sovereign King! Hail unto thee, O Mother of Perasimonor; hail unto thee, most ancient dweller of Galadonna; and hail unto thee, O Lady of surpassing beauty, who brought unto us tidings of the realm! Hail unto the kindred of the woods, for they were the first to perceive the true face of this wicked vanguard! And hail unto them that bind the seeds of evil to wage war upon evil, unto them that breathe upon these knots with heavy weeping, unto them that employ dark sorceries for the salvation of the realm, hiding their secret craft from my sight; yea, hail unto these valiant women, who have become champions of the strife without the striking of a single blow… And at the last, hail unto that little lad and his strange companions! Kindle now those lamps, O Rumena, and cast thy light upon this honourable host for one last time! Before the fire of wrath doth consume, do thou ignite the flames, and turn to ashes this path, the Passage of Kings, now cloaked in foul and poisonous mists!

My brethren, ride forth with me one final time into the bosom of the unknown, and suffer no hope for the morrow to spring forth within your breasts! Though Death be the greatest of all that shatter the will upon this path, deem it not an end upon the horizon of the light. For in the fullness of time, the resolve of those souls watered by grace doth become far sharper than any sword drawn from its sheath. Death is but a passage, and naught besides, within the remembrance of spirits so highly honoured. Without a shadow of doubt, this is the most glorious of all dooms, to fall for the preservation of one’s honour. Lift up your heads, therefore, and ride forth with me into the very heartland of evil!

Even as the words of Silintolos drew unto their close, the green mists did begin to pour forth into the Lake of Deboran, mingling with the deep waters of Tenebir. Rumena stood as one turned to stone, struck with a heavy marvel at the swift and sudden rushing of these dooms. Then, with a voice most deep and passing loud, Ledasir cried out for one final time: “Tande Lerk unda Penda Lurfanda!” Thereupon all the women gathered in that place, with Tellawick at their fore, did lift up their voices in a single accord and cried aloud: “Tande Lerk unda Penda Lurfanda!” And the young maid Rumena, scarce knowing the utterance of her own breath, began to murmur those selfsame words from her trembling lips.

When those dark green mists did meet the waters of the lake, they were drawn hither and wrought into a swirling vortex by the hand of Rumena. With the uttermost measure of her strength, she did bend and bow those vapours; and the mists, fashioned now into the similitude of a gate, were bound within a cycle from which there could be no escape beyond the bounds of the lake. Ever closer did the young maid draw them; yea, she forced those foul fumes into the narrowest gyre that might be conceived, and made the frame of this portal, which her art had wrought, to be as slender as a woven cord. In that very instant when the mists were pressed unto their most grievous straits, she must cast forth the fire; lest the whole realm, and whatsoever place those vapours had shadowed, should be given over unto a consuming flame. She strained her spirit unto the final precipice of her endurance; and drawing forth from her raiment a bough of the Tutelo tree, she began to loose the flames upon this portal of mist, the which her own hands had woven.

That which did most grievously weary the spirit of Rumena was the binding of these vapours so closely together, as though to confine them within the hollow of a slender reed. In truth, it was a labour akin unto the forging of minuscule maelstroms, scarce the thickness of a scribe’s quill, within the bounds of a fixed and certain gyre. Yet far more grievous was the trial that followed the kindling of the fire; for now it fell upon her to bind together, within that selfsame cycle, no longer the mists, but the wild and leaping flames. To master the fire was a labour far surpassing the taming of the vapours; for flames do ever thrash in wild liberty as they burn, and whensoever a breath is blown to quench their light, they gather unto themselves a fiercer strength and blaze with a more wrathful fury. Thus, a power of such might must be laid upon the flames that they should be held in an iron constraint, and wrought into a swirling vortex; and whilst all this was brought to pass, a mighty bulwark must be raised against the waters, which are the chiefest foe and quencher of the fire.

These flames were even as the kindred of Galadonna; they did sway in untamed liberty, and whensoever a hand was raised to thwart them, they drew unto themselves a yet fiercer might. The minuscule maelstroms of fire did sear not merely the hands of the young maid Rumena, but her eyes, her heart, and her inward mind; yea, they did burn through every vessel of her being. For one of such tender years, so grievous an agony was an exceeding heavy burden to endure; yet Rumena, upborne by the succour of the other women, stood unshaken in her resolve to bring this heavy labour unto its appointed end.

In that hour, all they of the realm who beheld this doom began to feel a strange and eerie trembling, mingled with an exceeding heavy marvel. The vapours, which in a sudden moment took fire, did forge a wondrous pageant of visions above the waters of Deboran. For Rumena had kindled a flame of such mighty stature that it cast its radiance upon both Perasimonor and Mare Rumbrum at once. The white armour and the pale steeds of the riders of Hereyus did shine as crimson as blood, dyed in the gleaming reflection of this fiery blaze. Every soul was struck with wonder, and every breast was troubled; they were gripped by dread, yet upborne by hope, and withal, they were stirred with a rapture such as they had never known. Truly, this doom became not merely a festival of flames, but a mighty revelry of the inward passions of men.

In that selfsame hour, Ledasir, Tansulo, Tellawick, and Yigdola did clasp one another by the hand, chanting certain enchanted verses of the ancient tongue; seeking thereby to breathe strength into the spirit of the young maid Rumena. When the eyes of Ledasir did meet the gaze of Silintolos, she lifted up her voice and cried aloud: “Vadanur, vadanurr!” Now, this word signifieth “make haste” in the elder speech; and when the King heard it, he turned him unto his host and gave the command to ride forth. At the very vanguard, King Silintolos, the High Commander Elemrun, and Lord Irinarious did spur their steeds and charged as one. Verily, this was among the most passing glorious marches that the eyes of history have ever beheld. The horsemen of Hereyus, joined with the mighty host of Mare Rumbrum, did press forward in the wake of their Sovereign, and passed through that portal of fire. Yet the wise Belabirdor, being heavy with the burden of his years and unmeet for the strife of battle, did tarry behind in the realm.

The strength of the pitiable Rumena was well-nigh spent; the deeps of her eyes had grown more crimson than the very flames, yet she would not yield, being steadfast in her resolve to endure until the final warrior had passed over. For the first time in all the days of her mortal life, she had found the grace to render service unto Helakirtor. How should she forsake her heavy charge, whilst the doom of the whole realm did rest within her own hands? Every soldier of the host did march upon the fires with heads uplifted, in a majesty such as had never before been beheld; void of all dread, they hastened toward that mysterious portal upon the lake, lifting up their voices in solemn chants of death.

At long last, the final company had passed through, and in that selfsame instant, Rumena let her weary frame fall upon the earth. Ledasir and Tellawick did hasten together to the succour of this young maid. Tellawick, drawing forth a certain ointment from her scrip, did straightway anoint the eyes of the maiden, and spake unto Ledasir that they should bear her unto her dwelling, and keep her eyes bound fast in shadow for the space of seven days. For by such means alone might the young maid be healed of her grievous hurt and made whole once more. Then Ledasir, calling unto her side her squire Tansulo, gave him heavy charge to bear Rumena unto her home.