WHEN THE HORN SOUNDS AND THE LEGEND WEAVES
AS THE HAND GRIPS AND THE FEAR LEAVES
WHEN THOUSANDS MARCH WITH A SINGLE GAIT
AS MANY WIVES AND CHILDREN WAIT
WHEN SCHOLARS SHOUT AND INFANTS WEEP
AND NOT A SINGLE SOUL CAN SLEEP
WHEN THUNDER ROARS, BUT THERE'S NO LIGHTNING
AND ALL THE CLOUDS ARE BLACK AND FRIGHTENING
THE BIRDS WILL SING A TRAGIC SONG
WHERE EVERY SINGLE NOTE IS WRONG
THE GROUND ITSELF WILL SIGH IN PAIN
TO BEAR ANOTHER WAR AGAIN
Argenen woke to the sound of familiar words. The voice that spoke was low and strained, pausing often to catch the words as if they were too fast for the speaker. He kept his eyes closed and listened until the poem was done, and wished the words could penetrate him or grant him some infinite wisdom, perhaps passage to some better place. The words, however, meant nothing to him then. Those were only the concerns of the living, and he was no longer one of them.
"That's an old Nevean poem." He said, surprised to hear his own voice.
"Yes." Said the speaker. "Nevea wrote it, she was so wise."
When the speaker mentioned Nevea her voice became a mournful groan. He could hear now that it was a woman and rolled over to look for her. An ancient, deeply wrinkled face looked down at him with tired eyes. The woman was old and hunched and wore a thick robe that dragged in the mud at her feet. Her thin white hair hung like nothing more than vapour and a tattered shawl was draped around her.
"Good of you to visit, Serylor." The woman said with bitter sarcasm.
"I'm not him!" The boy blurted out. "He's still out there, he's still..." Then Argenen's heart dropped as he said the last word, "...alive."
"Oh, a living being, down here." The woman sang hoarsely. "You take me for a fool, Serylor. Only the dead can reside here, and you of course."
"No! I'm not..."
The woman leaned closer and stared at Argenen like a scrutinizing teacher trying to detect a lie. Then she shook her head and recoiled in surprise.
"You're not him?" She asked with her features twisted in awe. "How did you come?"
"I brought myself." Argenen answered and strangely his words felt weak; they were too little to explain so much. He tried to explain further. "I made a void."
"Impossible!" She snapped. "No child of Nevenym has the power to pierce the omnisphere."
"I did!" Argenen exclaimed. "It came from inside me, like a dark pit, or a whirlpool."
"As bizarre as your claim is, it seems to be true. Here you are, after all." The woman waved her doubt off like a fly with one skeletal hand and turned away from him. "It doesn't matter, you are not him."
"I'm Argenen." The boy said stubbornly. "Doesn't that matter?"
"Infinitely." She agreed in a surreal tone. "Who you are matters, always remember."
"Even in here?"
"Especially in here. We forget so easily in this place, I sometimes forget myself. But, I never forget my enemy."
"Serylor?"
"Yes."
"What did he do to you?"
"The same he did to you. Isn't it strange how empty it feels here."
The woman didn't seem very interested in Argenen any more, she now started to look around her, and he followed her lead. He was sitting in the mud with dark trees around him. He could see water through the leaves, and then he heard a noise he remembered; a hiss of falling water. With a burst of excitement he jumped up and stepped out towards the lake
"Nevea falls!" He breathed, and then, "it's not the same..."
"Of course not, Nevea never meant it to be seen like this." The woman said angrily. "So empty, she didn't deserve this."
Argenen couldn't completely make sense of what she was saying, it felt like everything in that place was insane. Even the trees looked mad, angry and confused. They clawed at the hollow sky with their upturned branches but no peace was found there. Argenen looked blankly into that same void. It was so much like the void inside him.
"I don't think I belong here." He said, but the old woman didn't seem to hear. "Why am I here?" He asked. The question felt pointless and stupid. Was he slowly going insane too?
"You are at Nevea Falls because you want to be." The woman answered. "It was a desire, and so it appeared. Here we can all rot in our own fantasies."
"I'm imagining this?"
"Oh no, this is all really here, just as the gods made it, but you came to this place because you were drawn to it." She waved a hand around to indicate the waterfall. "It must have been clear in your memory."
"It was." He said. "As I fell through I kept wishing I could see it just one more time."
"Your wish is granted." She laughed bitterly, but her eyes stayed downcast.
Argenen turned when he heard a noise behind him. Through the leaves of the trees behind him a pair of eyes was watching him. When discovered, the hidden being stumbled and fell forward. It was a crazed Valiaphite woman, as wild as an animal, with no remnant of that warm energy that living Valiaphites possessed. He watched her sadly as she screamed and fled, terrified of him, or perhaps the life within him.
"Am I still alive? You said earlier..."
"Yes. I can feel you here so clearly. That's why that poor creature came here. They can feel you from far away."
"Who?"
"They're just memories, really, memories of who they used to be. Have you ever forgotten someone?"
"I suppose I have."
"First you forget their faces, the subtle hints in their features that truly defined them. Then you forget the sound of their voice, and even how it felt when you loved them, but there is something deeper that you never forget. It is a feeling that sustains their identity, it is all they have left."
"I don't really understand."
"You haven't been here long enough."
"Someone I know once called them 'manifestations of intentions'."
"That's as accurate as any description."
There was a dull silence, and then:
"You'll have to go back, I'm afraid. Your story is not yet complete."
"Is it even possible?"
The woman then approached him and put both cold hands on his face. She stared into his eyes as she maintained her chilling caress. He was not afraid of her, he had never been. Something written in the lines of her face comforted him.
"You came here alone, Argenen. Are you so humble as to think you don't have the power to go back?"
For the first time since he woke up in that wicked place Argenen looked down at the Lifestone that was still clutched under his arm. It seemed so obvious that he himself had the power to go back, and yet he had not considered it.
"Serylor wants it." He said to her. "If I go back he'll take it, at least it's safe here."
"You doubt yourself again, Argenen." She said warmly. "The life essence is not his weapon, it is yours."
"He knows where it is. He found us as soon as we took it..."
"Yes. He can feel it, always, but I can help. Give it to me."
Argenen passed the stone to her regretfully, because its warmth seemed to be the only thing worth having in that cold air. She took it and stared deep into it for a while as if reminiscing over bygone days, and then eventually she cast her hand over it. As her hand passed over it the stone became dull, just as dull as everything else. Argenen's heart sank as the light died but still he trusted her.
"It will hide from Serylor now, it will whisper, only whisper." Her own voice fell into a whisper as she spoke.
"How do I...I don't know how to go back." Argenen groaned. "I've forgotten..."
"Think hard, there's a place you need to be. There's something you need to find."
"The Voidstone! How did you know?"
"The life essence calls for it. Even through the fabric it calls for its mate on that other plane. Can you feel it?"
"I can. But I can't see, I can't imagine the place."
"You will manage. Such a strong Nevean. Nevea would've been proud."
The old woman left. Argenen didn't ask why, he didn't wonder where she was going. He was in a nightmare where nothing seemed to matter; he simply followed his cues like an actor in a play. He did, however, feel a sharp pain in his chest when she left, and it served as only final reminder of the life within him. He did not belong there, he had to go back. But where was the Voidstone? He could not travel without knowing where to go; he had to picture the place.
The Daghym, they used stone, they loved stone. Would they know? No, they only used the saturated searestone, the Voidstone was empty. Infinitely empty. Perhaps the Valiaphites had one more piece of knowledge to impart on him? Yet, they told him everything. What reason did they have to leave something out?
His mind strayed slowly to the stories that Gore told him, tales about precious stone. Gore's voice floated into his head.
"But, I've heard in Galyn they have a relic of the most beautiful and pure Searestone imaginable. It's a piece of regalia that is passed down from each Regent to the next."
The memory was vivid, almost deliberate. Was someone planting thoughts in him? Was someone trying to guide him, or was he simply a stranger to his own ideas? Still, the memory was real, he knew it. The Fierim had a searestone relic that could never be satisfied. Surely it was the Voidstone. Slowly, the doubt faded and Argenen was left alone with his decision: he had to go to Palinor, the great ice fortress of Galyn.
"I don't know how." He said to himself. "I've never been there."
His will shattered and he collapsed into the mud where he sat, staring out over the water. The omnisphere had many layers, how cruel were the ones even further down? How could they possibly be emptier than this? He scanned the surface of the water and even its ripples were awkward.
He sat for some time, although it would have been impossible to measure the hours. Was it night time? He couldn't tell; the same dark hung about him, more like a shadow than the night sky. Then, on the bank of the lake some distance from him he saw movement. The old woman was bent down by the water, dragging her bony fingers along the surface like a child drawing in sand. Argenen was perplexed but he couldn't see any clearer from where he was sitting. He got up and started walking towards her along the bank.
She carried on with her strange task for a while, and by the time Argenen reached her she was finished. He looked into the water and there – as if the water was a window to another world – he saw a city, or a palace of some sort. There were tall spires and cold white walls with feeble torches littering the battlements. Behind the fortress was a mountain buried under thick snow. The fortress stood with its back to the mountain like a threatened animal pushed into a corner. Argenen viewed it from above as if he was flying over it. He saw the outer walls, the keep, and then the single bridge that spanned from the keep to the mountain behind.
"It's Palinor." The woman said.
"So you know!" Argenen exclaimed. "The sacred Fierim relic is actually the Voidstone!"
"I know only what you know. Your thoughts are painted across this place, you are transparent here."
"You could hear what I was thinking?"
"Mmm."
"So Palinor might be the wrong place, the stone might not be there at all."
"Again, the doubt, you tire me."
"Alright, then I'll go."
"Before you do. I was wondering if you knew everything. The whole story, I mean."
"What story?"
"Your story. Where you came from is important."
"Why?"
"You are a mage born of Nevea. That is your power, Argenen."
"Nevenym made Nevea, and Nevea bathed in the lake where the Lifestone was. Then Nevea's children were born of the fruit that fell from the trees. I was there, I saw those trees. I know the story."
"Yes, Argenen. That lake not only gave you your life, it gave you Nevenym's power. That lake created each race, so unique, so perfect."
"I know that, why does that matter?"
"You mystify me, boy. You should not be here. Don't you see? Neveans do not have the power to tear the Fabric."
"What do you mean, that's our magic, isn't it?"
"Manipulate the Fabric, yes, but no Nevean has the power to tear the fabric."
"So?"
"Argenen. Only by tearing the Fabric can anyone ever cross into this world. That portal you made should not have been possible."
"You mean I shouldn't be able to be here."
"No. Only Serylor has that power, only he can travel back and forth."
"Then how..."
Suddenly Argenen understood. He was different from any other Nevean in only one way he could think of. He had taken the Nivenmage's 'curse'. That was his aberration, a power he should not rightfully have. He could not imagine how the Nivenmage of Pyriam ever came across such a power but now it was his.
"I was cursed." He said.
"Indeed you were." The woman said and then she smiled. "But that might prove to be just what you need."
"To kill Serylor." Argenen agreed. "Then what? Eventually it'll drag me back here."
"True. Your body was never meant to be able to control that talent."
"So...I'll die."
"Not quite. You'll live in a dead Realm."
"No different from death."
"There I agree, but perhaps we can persuade him."
"Serylor?"
"Yes, if you bring him to us, these spirits will torment him; they will unleash the worst kind of fury upon him. Eventually, he will yield."
"You think you can force him to take me back?"
"We will try."
With that the woman crept off again. Argenen was left behind. No burden had been lifted; instead, a heavier one had been given to him. He was cursed, and even if he could destroy Serylor he would also eventually be pulled back into the omnisphere. His disease would kill him. Perhaps he would find himself on a battlefield one day, begging another young mage to take his place.
He thought about the Nivenmage. She had been legendary; she had fought in countless battles. She was a greater mage than he would ever be, and even she couldn't control it. Argenen tried to remember her face but he couldn't, he just remembered her broken body. He realised that she fought for years, even with her curse; she defied Serylor to the end. He couldn't let her die in vain, after all she had done, he had to be stronger. He had to kill Serylor before the curse claimed him.
He stared into the water and made up his mind. It was there, clear as day, he would not need to imagine it. He concentrated hard on the myriad of torches in Palinor and the field that lay in front of it. He even thought about the tiny settlement that rested at the foot of the fortress. The void came and for the second time, Argenen fell.