LXXIV. It had been over two days since they left Myrlost. Asadue and Edwald had crossed the Pass of Nahas over night, and with the rising sun which light pierced through the gap, they saw the slopes slant down stretching towards a land vast and wide. From up the Pass, the land looked as a sea of milk with small villages like islets of stone every so many miles popping out from below. They had come to the Vale of Wiex, the northernmost region in the Kingdom of Thindur.
The Graythmen in these parts were just as plentiful as in the Graythland, and—though it is hard to believe—even more boastful than their countrymen to the south, for there cities and towns were near in proximity to the King’s seat in Culgarost, which lied to the north and east at the shores of the Mallen Sea.
Upon the morning’s break, Edwald and Asadue made their way to a hamlet near the Pass, but there they found only empty streets and houses all but forsaken. The hamlet had not signs of decay, but rather as if the villagers had left in haste.
-“This must be the work of the Black Knight.” Asadue said.
-“Nay, There are no signs of savagery here,” Edwald replied, “Only those of a hurried flight.”
-“The townspeople must have fled in fear of death,” Asadue said again. “They must have heard of the northern threat.”
-“News of the Buram Horde stationed in Seranos must have reached them first.” Edwald said. “We haven't eaten in days; perhaps we can look around to see if we can help ourselves.”
They looked about from door to door, but found nothing other than soulless abodes, bereft of light, comfort and warmth. Then they went to the town’s chapel, there the door was blocked and every now and then, they heard murmuring voices leaking in from beyond the threshold. They knocked thrice to no response, so instead they searched about the chapel hoping to get a glimpse through the windows. They found a shattered glass; inside, they saw a priest before the altar and other men were about him, by the look of them they were all peasants and they were all locked in prayer.
-“Open the door!” Edwald shouted and the faithful fretted as they heard him.
-“...O Gods so high, let us not be harmed by the Buram’s wrath…” The priest stuttered, “…For, though they prowl outside, we turn to you in this early hour…”
Edwald cried from without again, but then he understood wherefore they prayed. They thought him to be a Buram scout sent to survey that hamlet.
-“We mean no threat,” Edwald shouted again, “We are merely travellers that veered off the thoroughfare. Pray, let us in.”
-“And pray we shall, Buram Fiend.” the priest said finally answering back, “We do not treat with strange-tongue foreigners.”
-“Yes, we come not from these parts,” Edwald replied, “But we are not northerners—much less easterlings from the Buram lands. Nay, we come from the south.”
-“North, east or south, it does not matter.” The priest answered back, “You, outlanders, are all the same in our eyes. You wish to take our grain and bread and leave us to starve. But the Gods will defend us against you.”
-“We worship the same Gods,” Edwald replied, “Father Oenid, Father Hesper*(1), Father Droca*(2), Father Patra*(3). The fact alone that I have not teared down the door should prove as much. The Buram have their own Gods, they wouldn’t hesitate to break into this church. Furthermore, they do not know the common tongue. They would use their steel to speak instead of words.”
-“Their steel shall not avail against the Gods.” The priest said, “Here we shall continue to pray until they send us a sword and shield to defend us.”
-“If you will not let us in, at least give us some food and then we shall leave.” Edwald said.
-“Forget it, boy” the priest replied.
-“What of the tenets of your faith?” Edwald asked in rage, “Didn’t the Gods say you should feed the hungry in their name?”
-“We have enough mouths to feed here.” The priest said, “We will not waste our stores in strangers.”
-“I see only a few among you,” Asadue asked the priest, “where is the rest of your flock?”
-“They all left in fear of death.” he said, “only the most faithful remain. Hope dies last, and it is ours that the Gods will send their angels to defend their house.”
-“‘Tis of no use to waste our strength in them” Asadue muttered unto his pupil, “Mayhaps it should be best to leave this place and leave the faithful to their prayers.”
-“You are right; we ought to be on our way.” Edwald replied, “Maybe in the next town, they shan’t be so vain.”
As they were ready to leave, they heard a horn afar, which booming sound was unlike any they had heard rung before. Edwald feared it might have been the Night Ernes, yet he dismissed the thought, for there was no whistle. Then he deduced it could have been a throng of guards sent by Lord Tyén, yet the sound came from the west and not the east, where it should have if this was the case.
Soon, the horn was blown again and behind the church up and down the slopes of the hamlet’s farmstead, a company of riders—seven men strong—galloped towards them. They hissed like angry geese, and shouted words unknown to him. Upon sighting Edwald and Asadue, the horsemen drew out their swords which blades were curved like a waxing moon.
Then, Edwald realised the northern threat had come, for the men in question were of the Buram Folk, warriors thirsty for death and blood. Their armour was of twisted mail, their helmets were like iron flames, and their horses were wild and fierce as if untamed.
-“Bor-oshad!” one of them shouted and their horses split; four to the right, three to the left.
Two of them aimed for the chapel’s door, but Asadue chased them and cought them off. The pupil followed the mentor and they took a stand at the door. Four of riders came from the left, the other three from the right and they surrounded closed in on them from north, east and south against the chapel. They spoke among themselves, and though little could either Edwald or Asadue understand, they reasoned the Buram meant to slay them.
They swung their shotels to and fro, their ringing steel scraping each other, and they charged forth towards them. Then Edwald unsheathed Oakenjaw, Asadue drew out his daggers and courage boiling in their hearts, they met their foes in a fierce fight.
Back and forth they swung their weapons, neither of them giving up ground, but each blow of those half-moon-shaped blades was swift and harsh, and their arms were filled with such a might that both tutor and pupil hardly outmatched them.
Had it been another swordsman, against such foes, he would certainly have met his demise. Yet, Edwald bore his Dwarven sword in hand and after a while, it began to whisper secrets into his mind that turned the odds of the fight to his side. He parried and dodged their strikes and though Asadue struggled in the endeavour, it was mostly Edwald who led the offensive.
They came at him like a breeze, with the curved blades swirling back and forth, but he stood fast on his horse, barely moving during the onslaught and then his sword found his aim and beat down three of his foes. Upon gaining the upper hand, he charged forth towards the captain and breaking the circle, Asadue could now evenly fight on his own.
By the end, only two of the squad remained alive, and the others, lying dead on the ground, were left forsaken by their comrades as they abandoned their plight. But they would not forget that all their strength was little compared to Edwald’s truthful blade.
-“We should go after them,” Edwald said, “Should they reach their outpost, they will likely come back for more.”
But even as he spoke, the doors of the chapel were no longer closed. The prayers had turned louder as the fight raged on, and as it came to an end it ceased all together. Out came the priest and his flock and seeing the bodies lying dead on their blood, they regretted not having heeded their plea from before.
-“These men, are they of the Buram Folk?” Edwald asked, wishing to ascertain that he had not killed the wrong foes.
-“They are.” The priest replied both relieved and shivering, “Two of them had come half a fortnight ago, they asked no questions but among themselves they always spoke in a foreign tongue. Upon hearing the news of the Buram Horde and their invasion to the north, most of the small folk packed their belongings and hit the road. Since then, my flock and I have garrisoned the chapel and have not left its wall, lest they lingered about still, hiding somewhere in the shadows waiting for one of us to come forth from the Gods’ refuge.”
-“Even now, they might come back in larger numbers for more.” Edwald said, “We must be on our way, before it comes to that.”
-“Before you leave, let us share with you some of our food in store.” the priest said, and Edwald could not help but snicker. “We haven’t got much, but you mentioned you had no supplies. It’s the least we can do, after what you’ve done for us. Bless be the Gods for sending us his shield and sword!”
-“Were not all strangers the same in your eyes?” Edwald mocked him.
-“I take back what I said,” the priest said ashamed, “So far all foreigners have been either cruel or graceless. Can you really blame us for mistrusting you earlier?”
-“In other circumstances, mayhaps your bluntness could have been excused,” Edwald said, “Yet, who is to say you were not kinder ere the coming of the Buram Folk?” The priest could say no more, he stood quietly as a child that had been upbraided. “We will take your offer, but henceforth think of your vows when the hungry and downtrodden knock at your door.”
The priest personally gave them provisions for a few days of journey, and with his blessing, he bid the foreign saviours farewell. Edwald would never come again to that place, yet the prejudice of the priest marked the beginning of a proclivity in his mind to dislike clerics, especially those that did not embrace the true principles of the faith’s code.
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Regarding the abovementioned statement, the Sagrary has been keen to discount these thoughts as myths, for upon his proclamation as a saint, the high clergy would try to cover up all doubts he might have had about the men of the cloth. Nevertheless, it is thanks to the account of Master Asadue that some light has been shed on these claims, making it nigh impossible to discredit the validity of his case. He tells us in his journals that having twice been refused by the very men whose vows were bound to earthly kindness and spiritual guidance—once in the Tomb of Elorio, and once in this chapel—Edwald treated priests with certain discontent.
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Upon leaving the hamlet, Edwald and Asadue rode thence northeast. Up and down the sloped fields of Wiex they trotted, the winds turned sour-cold, and the clouds mustered dark and grey like a wordless omen that a grim fate was about to unfold.
They followed a faint trail that the two Buram survivors had left in their flight, yet soon the skies wept ice from above and the tracks were quickly covered with snow. The noon sun was no longer as bright as it had been earlier that day, for so thick had the clouds grown, they mantled the land in shades. The road was also no kinder to the two men, for though the lane was only somewhat thinner than white carpet all around, it was easily missed by the lazy eye. So they forsook the pursuit of the two Buram that fled away from Oakenjaw and settled on their long delayed goal; the Black Knight that awaited in Seranos.
Two days had past since they left the Aden Hills behind, their supplies were already running short and every village they came upon was emptier than the last, Asadue tried to sway his pupil to tarry a little while, whenever they came across a freshly abandoned town, so as to savage whatever food had been left behind. But Edwald refused each time.
-“The longer we search for supplies, the longer the journey will get.” he said. “And chances are better than none that we won’t find any either way.”
And so, they kept on faring ever deeper into fields of snow, where days were almost as vague and dark as the night’s gloomy murk. From the north, bitter squalls sharp like arrows were blown on their faces, and although in his heart, a fire kept Edwald warm, and Asadue’s will to follow his pupil even to death, the cold was beginning to take a heavy toll in their horses.
Upon the third hour of the second day since the incident in the hamlet, Asadue’s horse fell to arise no more, and they both shared a single saddle for the a few hours, until not long thereafter, Edwald’s mount faltered too, and with many miles still ahead, the two men made the journey on foot.
Weary, starving and chilling, they finally heard the running waters of a large stream dwarfing the echoes of the wind. At long last they had reached the River Dúnk. It ran from west to east in a serpentine way and all along its frozen banks there were lifeless abodes that grouped into a town. They had come to the city of Seranos, in earlier days it had been a sprawling place filled with merry folks and many merchants would travel through it streets exchanging goods and wares from Fyore all the way to Culgarost. Now it seemed forsaken as if history had forgotten the name of this dwelling, its walls were torn down, its pathways all were blocked, and there were roofs smouldering away, which fumes mingled with the grey clouds above. Yet despite its decadent state, the city was not empty.
About the city a large camp had been set, which had been arranged in such a way that it seemed like a black sea of tents. There were horses prancing around without leash and grim-looking men training with curved blades. Five thousand strong they appeared to be in number and there was so much order among their ranks that the label of a horde could not be applied to them. There were serjeants and captains giving commands left and right and many a bannermen waving proudly their flag.
The Buram Folk came from the easternmost lands of the continent between the mountains and the Outer Oeas, and in those times, it was common belief that their realm was first to bath under the rising sun’s beams. Because of their background the Buram Folk were always a people of the sea, and only seldom were their wars not fought on ships. Never in the history of their kind had they ever got so far inland into the Realm of Men, furthermore they had not posed a threat since the almost a century ago, so to find them so near the Realm’s core was beyond the grasp of any sane thought.
Whatever the reason behind their campaign, now they had come, and with them they brought an omen of war that had been evident in their latest exploits in the north. The sheer size of their army was enough to inspire both fear and awe. They looked fierce and heartless, like corpses raised from their graves without a ghost, and the mere sound of their speech could have unsettled the brave and strong. Nevertheless, moved by a conviction mightier than fate, Edwald did not hesitate to reach his long delayed goal, for his oath to his mother burnt so hot in his heart, and he would not back away from meeting with the captain of such a host, even at the cost of his very life—as it had been foretold.
-“Are you sure this is your will?” Asadue questioned his pupil one last time.
-“I am.” He replied solid of mind and heart.
And so they approached the camp, first in a rush, then in a wary stroll. The Buram men told them apart right away, and though they gripped their blades with cautious qualm, they did not engage with them. They watched the two men as they walked among their tents with careful feet and the talked among themselves as chatter before a meal. Asadue noted on the fear as they stepped into such an army.
‘We were easy prey among those fiends, like a deer surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Their eyes were fixed on us and their blood-thirsty mouths seemed to slobber as we walked. Had others been in our place, they would not have hesitated to prowl on them as they came, yet they made way wherever we went, as if our arrival had been long awaited.’
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-“Does any of you speak the common tongue?” Edwald asked aloud without a shred of fright in his voice. “We’ve come to see the so-called Black Knight, the head of your horde.”
The soldiers shared queer looks for they could not make sense of what he had just said, but then one of the serjeants stepped forth from the lot and spoke in the common tongue.
-“Who asks?” he said with harsh tone.
-“Tell him that his blood has come to treat with him.” Edwald answered.
-“You are that man, my men fled from, no?” the serjeant asked, “they said you fought with the strength of ten men. Why shouldn’t we just kill you right away?”
-“I only wish to speak with the Black Knight.” Edwald said, “Even against the wish of the wise and the omens of fate, I have come from so far away, so I could meet with him.”
-“Your folly will be your undoing, boy.” the serjeant said, “But if you are so eager to meet your maker, it is only right that you should die by the best of our blades.” Then the serjeant turned round, facing his own, and cried out in a loud voice. “Bor’k Karúhok!”
‘Karúhok?’ Edwald thought to himself, for he sensed it must have been a translation of Carédock’s name. If so much he had changed into the Buram ways, mayhaps it meant he had forgotten himself and taken up the identity of a true enemy of the Realm.
The Buram began to hum and thrum as from among their ranks a tall, menacing knight stepped forth. He was strong yet slender, strapping like a prince and his pace was slow and smooth, like a shadow sauntering in the gloom. His armour was of twisted mail, underneath which he bore ragged black clothes, with straps of his cloak hanging from his arms and skirt. A black, common hood covered his head, and so dark was the shade it cast that it looked as if he had no face. Of iron dark as coal was his panoply safe for one of his legs which was wrapped in steel; his cuisse and greave were silver, and the whole limb seemed fake like a mechanism designed to replace a missing leg.
-“My blood…” he said mockingly in a throaty voice which Edwald had never heard before. “I knew you would come, the fates are seldom wrong.”
-“The Fates?” Edwald asked both estranged and amazed, “How on earth would you know?”
-“They not only speak to you,” the Black Knight replied, “I too have my ways to see into the Beyond, and there I have seen things still to come.”
Edwald knew his brother well, and he had never been so quaint with the occult. Furthermore, there was something off about his voice, as if the common speech were not his native tongue. Upon realising he was not talking to his brother, Carédock, a pulse of fear pumped dreadfully in his heart.
-“You are not my brother,” he said the obvious. “Who are you?”
-“Did you not say it yourself? I am your blood.” the Black Knight said, “We might have not shared a womb, but some of my blood runs through your veins too.”
-“I saw the vision in the temple,” Edwald said “I am to fight my brother, not you.”
-“You felt a pulse that called you to the shrine, didn’t you?” the Black Knight said, “There are devices of great power in this realm that common men have no access to, unless they are heirs to those who forged it. Did you not see into the Beyond? I bet you now find yourself in the same circumstances that were shown to you, still you have the mind of mortal men, which oftentimes misread what the fates will convey.”
-“You might know my language, but your words make little sense.” Edwald said, for he truly did not understand wheat he meant. All this talk of blood, the fates and the Beyond only baffled him even more. Yet his sword whispered unto him, that there was deceit in what the Black Knight spoke.
-“The ears of man are always deaf to the deeper truths of the world,” The Black Knight said, “I do not expect you to fully grasp what your mind cannot reason. But the Fates often speak your name in their own tongue. Thus, I had much interest to learn what you are made of, and from what I have heard, you’re a man of great heart, for who would wish to meet their doom with little more than hope to save a brother who has grown despised?"
-“How would you know?” Edwald asked.
-“Gossips are like plagues,” the Black Knight said, “they spread through the air from mouth to mouth, until all are tainted. I am well informed about your brother Carédock, the rogue monk, and taking advantage of his desertion from the cloister, I made sure that the right people would think I was someone I am not, and so the rumours reached Keor, so with my lies and cunning, I drew you out of Keor, knowing you would come and bring your brother back home.
“Carédock the Cripple was never much of a threat in the north. When my army and I crossed the Pass of Hel, he and his gang of vow-breakers tried to make a stand early on, but the odds were on the side of my host. We killed half of his men, and the rest ran away to die somewhere else.”
-“What became of my brother?” Edwald asked, fearing the worst.
-“He is no more.” The Black Knight said, faking a snigger. “The corpse of the Rogue Monk was dragged away after the battle was won.”
In Edwald’s heart, a dark fire was lit mixed with sorrow and scorn. What the Black Knight said was like painful venom that burnt his blood. Yet, his sword ached again, signalling through unspoken words that there was no truth behind what he spoke.
-“You, foul liar!” Edwald shouted in rage, drawing out Oakenjaw. “My brother was an adept with the sword, he could not have outmatched by an evil blade such as yours!”
-“And yet, he was the first to fall.” The Black Knight said, and now his snigger turned into a dreadful guffaw.
Upon hearing this, Oakenjaw’s steel was almost as hot as the fire in his heart.
-“I will make you rue your deceitful words.” Edwald said charging forth, and in response to his overhasty blow, the Black Knight parried him with his own longsword.
-“And so does fate unfolds…” he said with eyes red like boiling blood, and their duel began even as it had been foretold.
As the first strike was blown, a bolt hit the earth from above, the clouds swirled about over them in twisted shapes like a many-armed beast of smoke which rumble boomed across the land as the storm began to roar. The Buram folk all gathered around the battling swords, their eyes were filled with awe upon witnessing the duel their master had warned them would come to pass. Unlike the rest, Asadue was overcome by dread rivalled by none he had felt before, for every smack and jolt was played out just like in Myrlost, he had been foreshown.
The Black Knight stood fast on his feet as Edwald pressed him with unceasing blows, yet every time he struck, he veered off the Edwald’s sword without sweat or toil. Edwald was much smaller than his foe, and though against simpler men he would usually tower above, against the Black Knight, he looked like a child trying his best to beat down an adult. The fight was so droll to behold that the Buram folk could not withhold their amusement.
They laughed at him, while Asadue fretted where he stood. Yet their mirth turned into unease, after the Black Knight overtook the offensive. He lifted up his longsword and let it fall with might upon his foe. Buram steel was a hard ore and in the Black Knight’s thew was greater than a troll’s, still Edwald was swift where he was slow, so he dodged his bangs like a mouse swirling about the hooves of a horse, and what’s more, he bore Oakenjaw, which power the Black Knight was not aware of, so upon taking the defensive, the odds at last were turned.
Again and again, the Black Knight swung his sword and each time, Edwald found a way to avoid his thumps. This went on for a while until the Black Knight had struck too many a blow; tired of so many attempts, he grew weary, and Edwald took his chance, and going back and forth, he whirled around him and slashed him in the torse.
Edwald was proud of that one wound he had managed to inflict, but to such a large man the cut only ached in his side. He turned around swiftly and swung his longsword low from left to right. Edwald stepped aback, yet the blade was long and sharp and it grazed him in the chest, opening once more the Sir Frann’s wounds which, until then, were only beginning to scar.
Like a large willow tree that had broken free from his roots, the Black Knight twirled around him to the left and with great strength he let his sword fall on him again. This time, Edwald could not deflect the blow, so he dodged it rolling over to the right. Then he aimed at the Black Knight’s back and bashing him with Oakenjaw, he drew out some of his blood. This did not seem to cause him much pain, for the Black Knight stood tall again, and with eyes glinting red, for a moment he starred back at him.
-“You are swift, I’ll give you that.” The Black Knight said, and then he lifted his longsword aloft again. Edwald did likewise with his shield, but even as he waited for that dreadful thwack, the Black Knight spun backwards and instead of from above, he struck his sword from below. The sheer force of that blow sent his shield flying away from the brawl, leaving Edwald with only Oakenjaw to battle on.
The storm above spread across the sky, it flashed out its bolts across the clouds, and breathed out squalls with beating sounds like drums of war rolling for the fight. Asadue watched in fear as his pupil struggled to match the Black Knight, for every attempt to bring him down came at the cost of a broken bone or an ugly gash. As the clash raged on, it seemed as though Edwald was beginning to strive, yet even as it appeared that the hooded foe would give in at last, and raising his longsword a final time, he smote the Wielder of Truth with all his might with all the might of his arm.
And so the fates won the fight, for all had played out just like they had forewarned in the shrine. Edwald fell numb on his back, tainting with his blood the white snow of the ground. Asadue let out a terrible cry, and his tears froze even as they came out. He watched in horror as two Buram men dragged the body of his pupil away, and fearing they would either profane him in brutal ways, or else feast on his remains. He drew out his daggers, his heart thirsty for revenge, his soul burning with pain, and his mind turning sorrow into rage, he ran towards the Black Knight with the will to subdue even one so might such as him. Nevertheless, he was deprived of that chance; from behind he was knocked out in the head, and just like his pupil, he fell on the ground numb as well.
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LXXV. All was black, darker than the deepest cave under the earth, or the lowest abyss under the sea. Asadue could see nothing and hear nothing safe his own breath. ‘Am I dead?’ he thought to himself, and soon, he saw a faint grey light afar from him that only seemed to assure him of his present state. The light spread like a taint of white paint until all was clear again.
He had not yet met his end, he found himself chained against a wall in the living room of one of the forsaken abodes of Seranos. Whereas, other men would have thanked the Gods they were breathing still, Asadue was filled with a torment so deep that he had lost the will to live. All he could think about was that Edwald was dead, his beloved pupil, for whom his love was immense; without him, he would most like become a slave again, and—sure enough—he was already in chains. Why this was the case, he did not know, but he deduced that the Buram would take him to some market place, where he would be sold.
-“I cannot go through that again,” he spoke to himself aloud, “O Elbracht, my sweet boy, why could you have been such a fool? Had you heeded the warnings, I would not have left alone to mourn!”
Even as he said this, he heard a man come through the door, by the huge size of him and the hood cast over his face, he saw it was the Black Knight and he did not come in alone. In his arms he carried Edwald’s corpse, his arms and legs were bound, and his clothes were soaked in blood. With care, he laid down the body on the floor and, at the sight of his pupil lying soulless next to him, he could not hold back the tears and yowls of his woe.
He felt his heart ache again, like a knife of steel so cold, it froze the blood in his veins. Despite the hate, he felt towards the Black Knight, he found himself bowing down to him and begging for his own death.
-“Please, sir.” He said, “Kill me as well. Just a swing of your sword and I shall be dead. I loved this man with all my strengths, so for me there is no point in living without him. Do me this mercy and my ghost will not haunt you, I swear!”
The Black Knight turned his eyes to him.
-“You would choose death over life without this man?” he asked.
-“The sweat relief of death, will be a great kindness, if it means I will meet with him again.” Asadue replied.
-“Most would call you a madman, in your stead.” The Black Knight said, “But I would not. The world needs men that are half the worth of the kind of which you are made. Nevertheless, I shall not have you slain, for in the Abyss you will find that soul would be lonelier yet. Your man is not dead.”
As he said this, Asadue heard Edwald groan in pain and in joy, his eyes welled up again. He pulled himself towards him, but he was still bound by chains against the wall, so when he could not reach him with the touch, he used his voice.
-“My pupil! My pupil! Are you alright?” he cried out to him.
Edwald was half blind, for his blood had also filtered into his eyes. He could not see Asadue, but he could hear him.
-“Mentor, mentor, where are we?” He asked, “Why is there red all about?”
Upon saying, he was handed a kerchief by his mentor—or so he thought—but after wipping the blood off his sight, instead he saw it was the Black Knight.
-“Where is my mentor?” he asked in rage, and then he saw Asadue bounded just next to him. “What have you done to him? Why is he in chains?”
-“He tried to have me slain, so my men took hold of him.” the Black Knight replied, and it seemed obvious that he had been defeated; his mentor would be restrained as well. Still, the question remained, why was he not yet dead? Had the fates made a mistake, or had their signs been misread?
-“I do not understand,” Edwald said, “How am I not dead? I saw it myself back in the temple, I saw my own death, by your own hand no less."
-“If you had seen the full vision, then you should know what come next.” The hooded man said with a half suppressed fret, “The fates did not foretell that you would die on this day, but rather be outmatched by my hand.”
Edwald looked at Asadue and he looked back at him. They remembered then that back in Myrlost, the vision had been removed just as Lord Tyén entered the hall. Thus, they could not have known if after that fatal blow foreshown would have been his doom or not. It all made sense to them, but in the Edwald’s mind another question arosed.
-“How on earth could you have known?” he said, “You were not there with us, and yet you speak as if you had seen the same we saw.”
-“There is more than one such shrine in the world, which can see into the Beyond.” The Black Knight explained. “Those shrines are called the Elder Vaults, and the power in those cavernous halls, can only be awaken by one who has Ennard-blood. Your mere presence in that ‘vault’ invoked the vision you came to behold. And as I told you before, we share some of the same blood, so I came about one of those vaults and my blood too opened a window into the beyond.”
-“Do you mean to say, I have Ennard blood?” Edwald could not believe what he heard, “That cannot be. I am a pure son of the High Men. My father and mother were both of noble birth, and they too were pure heirs of Aredan names, untainted with the blood of a foreign race.”
-“No line of men is devoid of another kind’s blood trail.” The Black Knight said, “There are some even in the Realm of Men who have some Ennard ‘stain’ in their veins. You, so happens, to be one of them.”
Edwald looked at his mentor again, and he was just as shocked to hear this as him.
-“If you share blood with the Elder Ones, why do you fight for the Buram and not for them?” Asadue asked. “You do not look much Buram yourself, I don’t see what your business is with these eastern men.”
-“Aye, what are you if neither Buram nor Ennard?” Edwald asked too.
-“I am a simple man of bone and flesh,” the Black Knight replied, “though mixed up with what you call blood stain. As for the Buram, I did not always fight for them. I used to be a knight of Neldor, though from time to time I would question the nature of my pledge. So the White Tower thought I had been led astray and they disposed of me by sending away to a most remote outpost to the far east, just within the Buram reach. There, I learnt that what the Order called a barbaric race, was a complex folk instead, with a wont and culture that resonated deeply with me. They took me in and counted me as one of their own, teaching me of their histories and tongue, of which I grew rather fond. With the years, I neglected my oath and began to sympathize ever more with the very kind I had been taught to loathe.”
-“We are not friends of the Order either,” Edwald said, “We disavow their ways, from which you have also estranged yourself.”
-“Of that I am aware.” The Black Knight replied.
-“Still, I do not see why you would leave the East.” Asadue did not have that yet clear. “Why would you come west—with a host of armed men, no least?”
-“I did only what was asked of me.” The Black Knight said, “Though the Order did not want me anywhere near the White Tower, in their eyes, I was still a knight of Neldor, and knowing that I had gained some favour among the Buram kind, they ordered me to take as many soldiers as I could and attack the Realm of Men from the north, so as to install fear in the hearts of hither folks. Even though I did not want to respond to their call, I was warned of what would happen if I did not. The Order has my wife and son, so I only complied in fear of the worst. As you can see, whatever blood I have shed with my sword, its stain has soiled the White Tower’s walls.”
-“I can hardly believe what you say…” Edwald said genuinely amazed, “The Realm of Men is under the protection of the Order; the King himself even has a seat among its masters. How could the White Tower ever turn against itself?”
-“There is a Council of Masters, where all princes agree upon the governance of the Order, and then there is the Shadow Council—as I like to call it—which pulls the strings behind every decision the Masters make. It is them, who truly wield the power of the Order. Most of them are Ennards, of course, and the sway the Masters through whispers and spells to make them choose whatever policies they deem best.
“These last few years have proved that the men of this realm have become ungrateful for the obedient peace they have thus far maintained. The latest wars that have taken place among the High Men—Elreck’s Rebellion not less among them—, they have seen only as defiance against their reign. So to remind your kind of who keep the realm safe, they have worked in the shadows to pose a fake threat against which they can easily avail. Their plan was that in light of this carefully arranged peril, you would come to the Order on your knees asking for their intervention.”
-“So, you are merely a pawn in their games?” Edwald asked in renewed rage. Now, it all made sense to him. He found his brother’s conspiracy back in Culgarost, whereof he told him to beware, were all true assumptions for which he had misjudged him as insane. A great regret took hence hold of him, for had he listened to him earnestly back then, mayhaps many tragedies could have been spared.
For telling him this, Edwald should have despised the Black Knight, yet despite all the things he had done, Edwald could not help but pitty him for his reasons to have acted so far thus.
-“I wish it were not so,” the black knight said, “But, yes, I am indeed just a pawn; one who is afraid for those he most loves. Yet I will not do just as I was told. I have found a way to cause the Black Knight some harm.
“The Order wanted me to take my host down the River Dúnk to Culgarost. It was their plan that there the King would call upon the aid of the White Tower, so that the knights stationed in the capital would come out and defeat all of us. Yet, the Buram Horde shall not march to Culgarost. If I did that, I would only be helping those who have caused me much harm. Instead we will march to Fyore, wreaking havoc all across the Griffin’s hold. The Kingdom of Thindur has always been of the utmost important for Neldor, since most of their stores are filled with the fruits of commerce between the Graythmen and Arno*(4). So I will do my best to cut their supplies short, in the hopes that over the next few years they would struggle to feed their own.”
-“If you do that, the blood of thousands will truly be in your hands.” Asadue protested, noting on the cruelty of his design.
-“It matters not to me, so long I can repay them the troubles they have brought upon me and my kin.” The Black Knight said, his words filled with wrath.
-“You cannot this; there so many innocent people in these lands, who don’t deserve to die.” Edwald replied, “There must be some mercy left in you, why else did you not kill me after our fight?”
-“If I did that, I would be doing the Order yet another undeserved kindness.” The Black Knight said, “For it is you, Elbracht of Clasthaur, whom they most wish to die. They have seen into the Beyond far more often than you and I, and every time they glimpse therein it always you who stands against them the longest. It is you, they fear the most for whatever you are yet to accomplish.”
Edwald had heard that already. His brother, Carédock, had said the same thing as he was being held in the King’s Pound and the very thought that back then, he would not believe him, now pained him as a thorn on his brow.
-“Why will you not let us leave, then?” He asked. “If I am truly meant to be the Order’s demise, shouldn’t you set me free and let those things come to pass?”
-“As much as I would gladly see the Order crumble, I cannot allow you to leave now.” The Black Knight answered, “You are of great worth for the White Tower. After I have caused as much strife as I can, in hither lands, I will come back and ransom you for my wife and child. Tomorrow, I will march south and you shall wait here until all has passed.”
Upon saying this, the Black Knight left and Edwald pondered long in fright of all the horrours he would bring upon those lands.