The Strange Tale of Mr Valens; Part 8

Was young Valens but a wanderer in the chambers of his own soul, or was he far more than that? And what of the companions who kept his pace; were they naught but a handful of wild-hearted strays dreaming they marched toward some thrilling new adventure? We cannot say. Yet this much stands clear, for these youths bore certain qualities that rendered them rare and precious. Something set them apart from the other children of the realm, and something stirred the malice of Tellawick’s curse to follow in their wake.

Was it their gift for hearing the whispers that stirred within the waters, or the strange companion they met upon the shores of Lake Sebra that marked them so? Or perchance it was the bold desire they nurtured in their fearless hearts, a fervor hidden deep within their souls where no shadow could smother it. Many questions remain awaiting their answers, and of these mysteries we shall speak of but a few.

Lady Virgadot departed the realm of Perasimonor in great haste after her final discourse with Umma Ledasir. Throughout that hourlong exchange, Ledasir had entrusted her with a charge of grave importance. It was a task that might well deliver Helakirtor, the land of all realms, from the doom that loomed over it. It was also the very task that would bring an end to the journey of Valens and his companions. For the place these children believed themselves destined to reach, the Hollow of Palefor, was not born of their own desire but whispered into their ears and woven into their minds through a subtle clouding of thought. There, they would neither find true peace nor recover the lost emotions and forsaken passions they sought to reclaim.

When the darkness of night began to loosen its grip and the gloom of Tenebir slowly receded, Virgadot ascended the ridges of Perasimonor. She passed along the forsaken paths that wound through the ancient walls and yearned to reach the northern highlands of Venafiorum with all haste. For Valens and his companions dwelt within the Bogascallough Vale that lay there. She had to find them, and she had to bring this journey of theirs to its swift and necessary end.

For Ledasir had already spoken to her of what would come to pass should their journey continue;

Tell them, Virgadot, reveal to them the vile designs of that accursed one; show those innocent souls the shadowed paths of the forsaken land. Let them not imagine that this journey shall bring them any good, and let them know that darkened clouds shall gather about their spirits. Should they stumble into the pit of folly, they shall fashion their own doom with their very hands. And if ever they speak to any soul of it, even of the dear friends they hold in Sebra, no hope shall remain for them to escape the malice of Tellawick. Once my presence has faded from this realm, neither Ledasir nor her craft shall bring them any aid. And let them keep this truth in mind: the waters do not always flow from the purest heart of the rivers, and the songs that rise from the slopes of the vale do not forever whisper their promise of hope.

As Lady Virgadot wandered through lands where her presence was seldom seen, she began slowly to leave the borders of Perasimonor behind. She intended to reach the Bogascallough Vale and follow the path taken by Valens and his companions. Ledasir’s final words circled endlessly within her thoughts, and her mind grew heavy with questions of how she might find the youths whose steps she was sworn to trace.

Virgadot felt her spirit drawn taut, for as she neared the Bogascallough Vale the weight of her burden pressed ever more heavily upon her shoulders. The strange journey of Valens and his companions was the very heart of a far more intricate chain of events than it first appeared. As she crossed the Malahirol Mountains and made her way toward the northern reaches of Venafiorum to reveal the truth of this matter, her thoughts grew troubled with the question of how she was to find the youths whose fate had become so tightly entwined with her own.

Just as these thoughts began to draw Virgadot toward despair, she beheld a pale-faced hound running toward her from the depths of the Endless Forest. Its approach stirred no fear within her, for the creature bore no hint of malice; it came with a gentle spirit and a loyal heart. As the small hound drew nearer, she recognized it as Gabarin, the strange companion of young Valens. And if Gabarin had found his way to her, then surely Valens and his friends could not be far beyond.

Guided by Gabarin, Virgadot set forth and made her way along the edge of the Endless Forest. In little time they reached the northern slopes of Venafiorum, and there they saw Valens and his companions awaiting them. Gabarin leapt swiftly into Valens’s arms, and Virgadot approached the youths with hurried steps. Beneath the wary gazes turned upon her, she presented herself with due grace. Then, seeking to learn whether these were indeed the ones she had been sent to find, she asked them who they were.

Darin, Telder, and Nole regarded the woman with unease, for never before had they laid eyes upon her. Yet upon Valens there rested neither such discomfort nor any marked astonishment. Telder and Darin drew close to him, whispering questions as to who this woman might be and how he could possibly know her. As the murmurs around them swelled, Virgadot suddenly called out to Valens. “Master Valens, I must speak with you alone.” Valens offered no reply to the voices pressing upon him. He simply stepped away from his companions and followed Virgadot, and together they withdrew to begin a heated exchange.

Pray attend closely to my words, young man. This journey upon which you and your companions have set your feet may seem to you a merry adventure, yet it is in truth a strange affair that shall touch the fate of all realms, though you know it not. For this reason did Ledasir summon me in her final moments and charge me to halt you and your friends. There is much you do not yet understand, Valens, but only one truth you must hold fast. You must end this journey at once and return to your vale.

Lady Virgadot, I hold a boundless respect for you in the deepest chambers of my heart, yet contrary to what you believe, I am well aware of all that has transpired. When I first began to sense that the Witch of Tellawick had sought to mislead me and my companions, provoking us into setting foot upon this path, I spoke of the matter to a dear friend of mine, Mezmerion. Yes, he is the one we met upon the shores of Lake Sebra, and he is to me a companion most trusted. Fear not for him, Lady Virgadot, for I think of his welfare no less than you do. Indeed, it was Mezmerion himself who urged me to continue this journey, that we might catch the accursed one of Tellawick unawares.

Virgadot, her bitkisi sarsılmış bir ruhu andıran şaşkınlığıyla konuştu. “Nay, Valens, Mezmerion is but a child. The accursed witch of Tellawick is far stronger and far more cunning than you imagine. Ledasir’s final words spoke of the ending of this journey. I know you would not dishonor her memory, Valens. And if you would see a Lady brought to pleading, then let me plead; if you wish me cast down at your feet, I shall not shrink from doing so.”

I would never ask such a thing of you, my Lady, and if Umma Ledasir spoke in this manner I shall not stand against her will. Yet why do you speak of her as though she were gone, and has some misfortune befallen her” Valens asked, his voice trembling with unease. Virgadot lowered her gaze, her words touched with sorrow as she answered. “Valens, Ledasir shall walk among us no longer. For now this is all I may reveal, and I beg you to ask me nothing more. Greater matters lie before us, and I shall accompany you and your companions back to the vale.

The tidings he heard of Ledasir cast Valens into a deep sorrow, and the thought that their journey, which had begun with such fervor, must for now come to an end left a hollow ache within his spirit. Soon after, he returned with Virgadot to his companions, and he told them that they could not continue their travels, promising to reveal the reasons once they reached the vale. Thus the company set forth together, making their way back toward the home from which they had departed.

At that moment, quite unexpectedly, Telder began to murmur an old and faded song;

No land to be loved, nor river to cheer,
Tenebir flows, more blurred than the mistiest year.
Shut thy gaze from the cursed rim of fiends,
Let the dancing flames bring sorrow to thy withering limbs.

If thou seek’st to glimpse the old moon’s gleam,
Hear Sebra’s whisper, soft as a woven dream.
But if thy tongue shall curse foul Tellawick’s name,
Then bid Eryndal bring Mezmerion, flawless in flame.

Be not beguiled by Terra’s haunting tune,
But trust the fool’s dark-sensed commune.
Let not thy mind in doubt be dressed,
The soul’s fierce longing shall grant it rest.

The realm of Valens was but a small fragment of a far greater design, a world shaped long before his time and hidden within the domain of nothingness. It was a place where darkness and light, pride and humility, joy and sorrow, and all manner of good and ill moved in a single woven dance. We shall call it Helakirtor, the country of all realms, the vast kingdom of which Valens’s little land was but a modest part.

A sequence of wonders whose borders surpassed the very spirit had drawn a path from radiance into shadow, shaping the strange country of those who dream. From every realm rose the songs freely sung, and none dared to silence so fair a voice. Some would ascend by the unalterable decree of fate, yet others would be pulled into the clutch of a sorrow never before seen, burdened by the dark whisperings they could never cast out from within.

At times an indescribable beauty settles upon certain lands, and the sun shines with its most merciful radiance, and even the moon strokes the heavens and joins this splendor with a nameless melody that nourishes the soul. Yet at times dark clouds gather over some realms, and drifting mists introduce every soil they touch to a quiet foreboding. And should smoke ever rise from that cursed river, then for a long while expect no fair tidings from the kingdoms along its banks, nor from Tenebir itself.

And think not that the strange tale of Master Valens has reached its end, for our doorway opens only into a new world, and Valens himself stands as its foremost token. Now, if you are prepared, we set our sails toward another journey, and our course leads us to the country of all realms. Yes, we shall name it Helakirtor. Come then, without fear or hesitation, and accompany me in this untamed voyage driven by relentless passions.