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Authors: Gary Alan Wassner

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #epic

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BOOK: The Awakening
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Chapter Fourteen

“Now tell me Sir Knight, what role did the heir of Talamar play in all of this? Kettin was never a favorite of mine, if I must say, but it was merely due to his lack of wits rather than anything more grievous. He always seemed to lack the character that a noble leader requires. But, I did not sense evil in him, perhaps merely susceptibility,” Queen Esta said.

“When one communes with the Dark One, susceptibility can be a fatal flaw, my Queen,” Lord Markal remarked.

“I did not meet Duke Kettin. He spoke only through his consort, Margot. He was not feeling well and he confined himself to his personal quarters,” Sir Etan replied.

“What exactly did you see when you were in Talamar, my man?” the Queen’s general inquired.

The Knight sat back heavily in his chair and closed his eyes. It was obvious by the expression on his chiseled face that the memory was a very painful one to recall. He remained within himself for a moment, and then he began to speak.

“I was traveling from Balstair to Talamar. It was not an arduous journey and nothing untoward occurred during my trip. As I neared the outskirts of the lands, I noticed a pungent odor in the air. At first, I paid it no mind and continued to ride. But, it grew stronger and it was extremely offensive, yet I could not recall having smelled anything similar before. My eyes began to bum and I realized that the air itself was permeated with an acrid irritant. The smell grew stronger the closer I came to the city.”

Queen Esta and Lord Markal leaned in closer.

“In the distance, I could see the silhouette of the walls and towers of Talamar against the setting sun, as I approached from the east. When I finally broke through the dense line of polong trees that surrounds the city, I was stopped in my tracks by a scene, the likes of which I never dreamed of seeing. Stuck into the ground before the walls of Talamar were posts of heavy wood and upon each post hung dead and dying bodies.”

The recollection was so painful for Etan, that he paused to collect himself, his mouth a constricted circle. He lowered his head and placed his large hand upon his furrowed brow. The Queen and her General were silent as could be, until the Knight opened his eyes once more. The look of terror therein was so vivid it appeared as if the scene was taking place that instant, right before him.

“There were children among the corpses, many children. And there were women and young girls as well,” he continued in a hushed voice, the words staggered and aggrieved. “The posts that littered the landscape were not made of dead wood, cut and placed there. They were living. The branches themselves grew into the bodies, thrust through them while they were still alive, and in many cases, they continued to grow even after the victims had expired. These people had committed no crimes. They had done no wrong,” Sir Etan said with tear-filled eyes. “They were innocent,”

He paused once again to gather his wits about him. Queen Esta’s face remained expressionless, but she examined the Knight’s own closely. She saw the agony etched clearly upon it and she also sensed the fear behind it. He was a strong man, but what he witnessed at the walls of Talamar changed him forever.

“Was there no message inscribed anywhere? Was not reason provided for this horrible act?” she asked of him.

“Yes,” he began to answer slowly. “A parchment was attached to the largest of the posts for all to see. Upon it was written this: ‘Whosoever defies the Lalas, beware lest you become one with us yet.’“

“Was there a name appended to it?” she further questioned.

“Certainly there was,” he answered forthright. “Relamon, for all to see— And the sigil of Phero, his Chosen, was upon it as well,”

Esta remained silent, as did the others, after that disclosure. Thoughts and visions were rushing through her mind furiously, as she tried to make sense of what she had just been told. She believed that this Knight was telling the story truthfully. She perceived no trickery in his demeanor. But for a great Lalas to kill innocent humans with simply a vengeful pronouncement as an explanation, she could not accept so readily.

She drew in a deep breath. “Did anyone go to the tree to speak with it? Did Kettin send an envoy or attempt himself to determine why such a horrible act was perpetrated upon his people?” she asked.

“The Lady Margot went to the tree. Kettin was too weak from his recent travails to do so himself.”

“The Lady Margot?” Queen Esta asked, and her eyebrows arched high on her forehead.

“Yes, she rode from the city with the dawn of the next day. Unaccompanied, she entered the domain of the tree and questioned it directly,” he said, admiration in his voice. “When she returned, the people who were not still afraid to leave their homes, gathered in the square to hear what she learned. I had already arrived by then and I too was among the crowd that assembled around her.”

“And she had an answer for you all?” Lord Markal queried.

“She did. She told us that the tree was dead. That by the time she arrived at the location, it was too late, although it had only departed this world recently. She also said that she suffered a tremendous sense of sadness at its passing, and that it was difficult to withhold her sympathy and compassion until she witnessed the appalling scene all around her.”

Lord Markal turned his head to the side, “How convenient,” he said under his breath.

“The Lady Margot told everyone that the area around the tree was devastated, totally. There were bodies and broken bones scattered everywhere. She said that it was a horrible sight, truly, and that it was clear that Relamon wished to do as much harm to human life as he could before he expired. The Chosen, Phero, already lay dead upon the ground, and she told us all that it appeared as if Relamon killed him too.”

“Did she offer an explanation as to just why one of the noblest of the Lalas would behave in such an abominable manner? Did the Lady Margot provide evidence of her allegations?” Lord Markal inquired, frowning.

Queen Esta sat quietly upon her chair and listened intensely while she scrutinized the face of Sir Etan. She said not a word, but she was puzzled by the man’s pronunciations. They seemed forced to her somehow; not dishonest, but labored, as if he was relating a story that he wanted to question but could not for some reason. She watched his pained expressions and she was convinced ever more strongly that he was somehow recounting a narrative that he unconsciously disbelieved, but told nonetheless.

“What more evidence did any of us require aside from the impaled bodies all around the city and the Lady’s words? I felt as if I could see the entire putrid scene through her eyes as she spoke to the crowd. It was so vivid, I may as well have been there myself. I saw what she described, as real as you are, before my very eyes,” he said, though there was a very queer expression upon his face as he spoke.

“Is it still like a vision to you, my good Knight?” Queen Esta finally asked, gently and softly. She stood up and moved close to him as she spoke.

“Yes, my Lady, like a vision,” he replied, looking up at her with clouded eyes.

“Does it replay itself endlessly in your mind’s eye, no matter how hard you may try to rid yourself of it?” she inquired.

“Yes, yes. Exactly. I am tormented by it day and night. I see the dead tree and I see its Chosen lying upon the ruined ground. I see the people being pierced over and over again with the limbs of the trees. And the sadness is almost unbearable. I cannot sleep well, these days, my Lady. The only relief that I am able to get is when I ride throughout the countryside and recruit others who will help to prevent this from happening again. I feel that the more people I can tell and the more of them that I can convert, the more likely it will be that I will find some peace of mind, and that these terrible visions will begin to go away.”

“Have you had any success in that regard, sir Knight? Has it helped to ease your pain and sorrow now that you have an army of followers accompanying you?” Lord Markal questioned.

“No my Lord, it has not,” he replied, downcast. “The sadness remains, and the images compel me to continue on my crusade. I am driven by a great and overpowering sorrow and it does not abate.”

“Listen to me, Sir Etan,” the Queen said to him, staring him squarely in the eyes now. “Do not judge my words too quickly. You are confusing your heartache that is natural to feel at the death of a beloved Lalas, with the false information that has been instilled in you by a person whose intentions are not noble. Your mind has been tampered with,”

The Knight jumped up from his chair and placed both of his weathered hands upon his ears, pressing them hard into his head.

“No. Do not say that. The tree is evil,” he shouted. “I saw what it did. My eyes do not deceive me. It is you who seek to alter my truth,” he said as he backed away from the table into the corner, like a trapped animal.

His face was contorted in pain, and he continued to press his hands so rigorously against his brain that they feared he would crush his own skull.

“You did not see it with your own eyes, my good man. You saw it through another’s. And I fear that other may be corrupted,” the Queen replied softly, and she walked cautiously toward him. “Let me help you. Do not be afraid. You have been indoctrinated against your own beliefs and it pains you greatly. Such forced contradictions will drive you insane if you allow them to persist,” she continued, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Queen Esta attempted to insert her mind between the images and the knight’s own thoughts, but her effort was violently repelled.

The big man cringed at her touch, but it seemed to relax him somewhat. Nevertheless, he continued to make the most awful of faces, seeming not to be in full control of his own faculties.

“What manner of spell is this, my Queen, that corrupts a good man like this?” Lord Markal whispered.

“A strong one, Sir. A very strong one. It could only be a protege of Colton’s who would attempt to pervert someone in this manner. I fear that he has spread his dominion further than I anticipated. If in fact Talamar is lost, then we had best prepare ourselves. We may be the next target. And I fear that he may already be beyond hope,” she said sadly of Sir Etan.

The Knight’s face was twisted and contorted. His body began to writhe and shake uncontrollably. Esta placed both her hands upon his sweat streaked brow, and she attempted to soothe him as best as she could.

“Lady, what is it that torments me so? I see only the faces of the dying and I cannot rid my mind of these horrible images,” he cried as he tried to rise and walk. “I must be out of here. I must go and bring new fighters back to Talamar. We will kill the trees and then the pain will stop,” he yelled, lashing out now with both his arms.

“Lord Markal, call the guard. He will need to be subdued or he may hurt someone. Tell them to be gentle. He is a good man and we must help him,” she said to him. “Calm down, Etan. It will be all right. You will see. The images will stop. Just relax,” Esta admonished him softly. She pressed her hand upon his quaking brow and forced her calming thoughts upon him.

The big man seemed to ease a bit, and the guards quietly entered the room. They encircled him while the Queen continued to soothe him with her kind words and delicate caresses. His face was tormented and heavy tears gathered in the comers of his frightened eyes, but Esta’s voice reached through the gloom somehow and he reacted positively to it.

“They will not harm you, my friend. It is for your own protection that they bind you,” she advised him, as the guards tried to secure his arms with a rope of soft but thick hemp. “Allow us to help you, please,” she spoke to him, never leaving his side. “There now, that cannot be too uncomfortable. Perhaps if you sleep for a while, I will find a means of ridding you of this terrible possession,” she whispered to him. From the sleeve of her gown, she removed a small vial of dark liquid. “Markal, hand me that goblet yonder and fill it with that wine over there,” she instructed.

The Knight’s head thrashed from left to right as if he was searching for something. His eyes darted uncontrollably in all directions and he drooled from his lips like a rabid animal. The Queen opened the vial and poured the liquid into the glass that Markal had given her. She raised the heavy goblet to his mouth and coaxed him to swallow.

“It will not harm you, I promise. You can trust me. This will only calm you down and allow me to administer to you properly.”

He obeyed her like a young child, with his eyes looking upward at her, wild and innocent. Within minutes, his head became heavy and lolled upon his shoulder. The guards lifted him and carried him to a chamber nearby.

“He will sleep comfortably for now. I will attend him shortly. Please watch him closely though. I do not yet know the true nature of this possession and I do not want any further harm to come to him. Treat him kindly.”

When the guards departed with the Knight in their arms, Queen Esta turned to Lord Markal once again.

“It is astounding to me, my Lord, that one’s perception of the truth can be so distorted by another. I had a bad feeling about that woman, Margot, when he first made mention of her. Surely she is a spawn of the Dark Lord. And, she had taken his mind over with images and persuasions that will drive him mad. He is viewing the world through her twisted eyes, and interpreting it through her depraved mind. He sees what she wishes him to see, yet his spirit rebels. The great tree may in fact not be dead at all. I am certain its passing would have been felt here as well.”

“A deception? Each person must come to terms with his or her own truth, my Queen. For those of us who are unconvicted about what is right and what is wrong, it is easier,” he replied. “I pray that Relamon still lives.”

“Or harder, my Lord, if the world around you opposes your view. At that point, character must prevail. But, I cannot understand how anyone could wish for themselves, and others as well, the kinds of things that Colton promises. What is it that is so compelling to some about his path? Are they already lost before they find him? Or does he lead them astray intentionally, only to allow them to feel that he has brought them home again?”

BOOK: The Awakening
12.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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