Golden light, warm and rich, pours in through a window facing east, and the particles in the air, caught by the light, glisten and glow as they dance. Tilliana, awakened by the warmth of this light falling upon her face, opens her eyes and rolls onto her side toward the light, watching as the particles move and swirl slowly in the air. She hears hushed conversation not far away but makes no effort to listen; rather, she lingers in the silence of night as it quickly fades away into the noise of day, a silence that hides terrors and fears that she now knows more than she ever has before and yet also conceals wonders that are both deeply desired and elusive in their mystery. It is not that they are far away, reserved for the elite few, but rather that they are known and held not in the way of possessive knowledge or control but rather in the letting-go of true surrender, in the poverty of open and empty hands and heart. This is what the true night means, the authentic silence, pervaded with light deeper than the darkness, with voice deeper than the silence, and with security deeper than the fear.
Tilliana has only tasted this richness, touched it as if in passing, with a brush of the tips of the fingers or a call heard as if from a great distance. But one touch is enough, one whisper, and the heart is restless for more, even as in the same moment it is grant to be more at rest than it has ever been. And thus she lingers, letting the stillness of rest hold her—rest following upon the terror that she had known in the lair of the Lord of Mæres, and rest opened up by the symbelyia who had pervaded her darkness with their light and her fear with the splendor of their song. Yet even as she rests, a repose precarious not in its own right but in the frailty of her wounded heart, fear enters back into her spirit, and she recalls all of the pain, anguish, and loss, and the wounds, scoured deep into the very flesh of her heart, that cause her pain even still.
Soon the clatter of pots and utensils and the smell of cooking food draws her out of the last vestiges of sleep, and she sits up. Her companions are seated around the table not far away, speaking with Ûldren, while Dreya works quietly in the kitchen, preparing something that smells like bacon, and porridge, and something else that Tilliana cannot identify. To her surprise, as she prepares to rise, she feels a surge of dread concerning the coming day, fear and resistance to the struggle of living and striving, of walking long distances with little rest, and of facing in waking hours nightmares that belong only in the night, and in truth not even there. Perhaps she is not healing from her wounds after all, but only sinking into the place where a person is haunted both day and night alike. Has the horror of the Lord of Mæres truly sunk so deep into her that it has spread throughout her life like a poison through the body? She resolves to speak with someone about this soon, even today, though she knows not to whom to turn.
At this thought, a small glimmer of solace enters her heart anew, and she smiles. Never before has she had this particular problem—for even if the darkness has immeasurably intensified, so too has the companionship of light. Never before has she had so many friends in whom she can trust and to whom she can speak freely without the fear of being hurt or misunderstood. In the crucible, bonds are forged, and in the assault of darkness, connections of pure light weave between souls like threads, uniting them together. She only hopes that she is not asked to endure the severance of these threads, the breaking of these bonds. Indeed, this thought is more unwelcome than all the rest, and she almost wants to recoil into herself, to sever the threads by her own initiative, rather than to wait until some strife or circumstance breaks them beyond her control, causing her to undergo the anguish of loss that not long ago she was forced to endure at the deaths of her husband and her children.
Trying to move beyond these thoughts, she rises to her feet and joins her companions. Soon the food is brought out and they begin to eat, their meal punctuated by quiet conversation, mainly Ûldren's and Dreya's answers to various questions concerning their village and way of life. Tilliana listens absentmindedly to the flow of the conversation, and yet her thoughts are elsewhere, and before she realizes it, breakfast is concluded, and the others rise from the table, grabbing their dishes and bringing them into the kitchen. She too rises and seeks to help with the washing, but Elmariyë lays her hand upon her shoulder and, with a knowing look, gestures to a couple chairs that still sit beside the hearth. "Shall we sit together for a moment?" she asks.
"Yes," Tilliana replies. "But what about the dishes?"
"Any more people, and we would be making the job harder, not easier."
And so they sit, the firelight playing upon their faces and offering welcome warmth to their bodies in anticipation of the coming cold that shall follow upon their departure.
"You look troubled...or at least distracted," says Elmariyë softly, looking into Tilliana's eyes.
"I suppose that I am both," she replies, after a moment of hesitation. "I just ask myself: why am I on this journey? The rest of you have clear motives, vivid intentions. You are sacrificing yourselves for the good of Telmerion, taking up a yoke of fatigue, of daily vulnerability, of exhaustion, even the threat of death, so that our people may again know the peace and security of the light. But as for myself...why do I accompany you? Is it simply because I feel like I have found a place of belonging? Because I seek to recreate the sense of home? That is not an adequate reason, is it? If that is my only motive, then I should have remained in Ristfand."
Elmariyë listens and considers Tilliana's words before responding. When she speaks, she says, "What you say echoes something true, and yet it is incomplete; and an incomplete truth can easily be twisted into something else entirely. For many people indeed take trials and struggles upon themselves, thinking that they have the best of motives, whereas they are driven not by altruism and authentic concern for others but by the wounds and fears of the self and by the desire to gain approval, security, or righteousness through their efforts. And you are right that none of us can walk this path with an eye to our own gain or even to our own security. We are not here, even you are not here, to gain anything but to give everything—so that others may know the light to the full, the light that in our time is so threatened by darkness. So far you speak the truth, but…" Elmariyë's voice fades into silence for a moment as she pauses to reflect, or perhaps to allow her words to linger and to sink into the mind and heart. Then she takes Tilliana's hand into her own and says, "If one acts only in order to feel safe, to safeguard control and security, then one indeed acts in a way that shall hurt both oneself and others. But it is another matter entirely to receive the gratuitous gift of love that comes from the outside and to find in this gift both solace and invitation. How else, indeed, can the frail human heart learn to love, to give generously without counting the cost, except from the gift of love that it has first received and from the security that carries it, held and cherished, even in the deepest darkness and the most vulnerable exposure?"
Their eyes interlock for a long moment, and Elmariyë's gaze continues to communicate even when her voice has fallen silent. And then her words sound again, as if by way of conclusion, "And even the deepest and most total gift of the heart, of life, flows not into a void. No, it springs from love and returns to love, springs from belonging and returns to belonging, even if it passes through anguished darkness and agonizing loss. You see, the fact that you feel that you are here because you belong here is precisely the sign that you do belong here, with us, your friends and your family. Worry not overmuch about whatever gift may be summoned forth from your heart in coming times. You are here, and you are held. All else shall be as it must be, but this is the enduring reality, which shall remain when all else fades away."
† † †
The company departs in the late morning, their supplies generously replenished by their hosts, though still not enough to support them through the remainder of their journey to the Velasi Forest. Unlike in Ristfand and other towns in the far south near to the coast, this hamlet and others like it have suffered much greater losses to harvests; indeed, even many of their stock animals perished in the exceedingly bitter cold of the previous winter. Though this particular village has not had a direct encounter with the druadach—if rumors of their "raiding" are true, which the travelers doubt—it is nonetheless true that the wild beasts of mountain and wood have grown aggressive of late. Often the remaining domesticated animals that survived the winter are nonetheless slain in the night or taken away, leaving only hints of a struggle or thin trails of blood. It seems that animals, being irrational creatures so intimately tied to the cosmic order, are influenced in their behavior also by the currents of darkness and evil that flow like a murky stream through the wider current of world history. This, at least, seems a reasonable explanation, barring the direct intervention of the forces of darkness who use such animals as their tools, as they do those despicable beasts molded by their own wicked artifice.
The sun shines full now in the sky, and the snow softens and begins to melt under its brilliant rays, even if behind the company, higher in the mountains, the snow may well endure until the great thaw in the far away spring of the coming year. This helps to ease the temperature for the travelers, but it also makes the journey down the steep slope from the mountains to the valley more difficult and perilous. And by the midafternoon, their boots and leggings are wet with moisture, and with every step their feet sink from a few inches to a foot into the snow. This greatly slows their progress. But looking below them, at the wide expanse of the valley of Teldyn Pass, they see the greens and browns of grass and leaf and know that the snow did not reach beyond the limit of the mountains and their slopes.
But sight travels much faster than the body, and it takes them two days to reach the sprawling bottom of the valley and another three days to cross its width to the southernmost feet of the Teldren range. By this point, their provisions have almost entirely disappeared, and they have resorted again to hunting what little they can find and utilizing it to the utmost, to boiling of bones for the nutrition that they and their marrow provide. By inspecting the lay of the land, they discern that their destination lies to the north and the east, in a wide dell enclosed on three sides within a ring of mountains, the only access being from the southeast.
"However," Cirien explains, "all the lore we possess tells of an uncrossable chasm that spans the distance from mountain to mountain, barring all entrance to the forest."
"The Stïeka Mara. I have heard of it," says Eldarien. "If the tales are true, then should we not seek to descend upon the forest from another place, from the mountains above?"
"If at all possible, I wish for us to take any road but that which leads through more mountains," Rorlain comments. "We are exhausted as it is, from the road we have just traveled. And to all appearances, any passage through these mountains—at least one that would draw us nearer to the forest we seek—would be without a road or even the narrowest of trails."
"That could prove perilous," Tilliana agrees, "but I am willing to take whatever road is necessary or most fitting."
"Then I suggest that we travel to the great chasm," Eldarien offers. "Perhaps we shall find nearby some point of access, some passage, which has fallen into forgetfulness with the passage of history."
"Or even just a path into the mountains from that point," adds Rorlain, "if such proves necessary. For there is clearly nothing here but steep slope or jagged cliff. It seems that almost anywhere will be better than here."
"We shall see about that," Cirien replies, "but I concur with your suggestions. Let us travel to the chasm and find what we may."
"How far is it from here?" asks Elmariyë. "Do we have any measure of the distance?"
"Considering that we do not know exactly where we are, that is difficult to gauge," Eldarien answers. "But Teldyn Pass is something like thirty leagues in length, and if the maps prove true, then the Velasi Forest lies not far to the north of the easternmost entrance to the Pass. So we should expect no more than a few days of travel, unless we have journeyed much further west than we thought."
The company travels two days to the east before they are halted in their journey by an unexpected encounter. The echoes of shouts of violent threat and screams of terror draw their gaze to the south, but at first they are unable to see anything, since a rise of land lies between them and the source of the sound. Yet when they draw to the crest of the hill and, crouching down to conceal themselves, look out over the pass, they see, but twenty or thirty yards away, a caravan of travelers waylaid by a band of Relihim. The latter, twelve in number, seem to have only just caught up with the travelers, being on foot, and the one who looks to be their leader draws a blade from the scabbard at his side and steps menacingly before the frontmost carriage. The horses leading it rear up with neighs of confusion, and the carriage slows to a halt, the two behind it doing the same. There are close upon twenty travelers in the caravan, and yet they appear to be unarmed, and many of them are elderly or women or children.
Without another thought, Eldarien draws his sword and rises to his feet from their place of hiding.
"Eldarien," Elmariyë says softly, reaching for the hem of his garment.
"Worry not," he replies, turning to her with a mixture of sadness and gentleness in his eyes. Then he takes a few broad steps forward and exposes himself fully to view.
"Men of Telmerion," he calls out in a loud voice, and all eyes of brigand and besieged both, startled and surprised, turn to him. "Why forsake the nobility of your fathers and betray the blood that runs in your veins from the peoples of the past? Put away your arms and cease with this madness, lest you come to grave harm. For the light of heaven shines not only to illumine righteous hearts but to purge the hearts of the wicked and the unjust."
The leader of the group of Relihim takes a step in Eldarien's direction and laughs in a tone of mockery and spite. Then, with the eyes of the others expectantly upon him, he spits upon the ground. "And who might you be, to speak before us as self-proclaimed savior, self-assured righteous man, and foolish intercessor?"
"I am none of these," answers Eldarien. "I am simply a man from whom your kind took everything. Father, mother, sister, village: all alike were lost because of the madness of your malice."
"Many could speak in such a way," answers the man, "though usually we leave at least a little behind. We don't wish to ruin the balance, do we?"
"I say it again," Eldarien emphasizes, raising the lightbringer before him in both of his hands, "depart now."
"Or what? You wish to engage us in combat, a single man against a dozen?"
With this Rorlain and Cirien also rise to their feet and stand on either side of Eldarien. Rorlain holds his bow at the ready, with an arrow knocked to the string.
"Oh, ho, ho!" the leader of the brigands laughs again. "Three against twelve? Is that how it is to be? Do you think you can defeat us and save these poor people?"
"There is a force we wield of which you know nothing," Rorlain says. "You would do well not to underestimate it."
"I think not," the man replies. "Let the one with the true authority here speak. Now I say, once again, and I expect an answer: who are you to claim to possess the light, and to strike down those whose chosen way of life differs from your own?"
"You misunderstand us," Eldarien answers, taking a few steps forward. "The light belongs to no one, and yet we all belong to it." He raises his sword and adds, "And the days of darkness are ended. The light comes of its own accord, and it acts with sovereign freedom undimmed by even the blackest night."
"What say you?" says another of the brigands, drawing his sword also from its sheath. He says to their leader, "Come on, Gedrin, let's just kill them all and be done with it. What's with all of this chatter?"
"Those are perhaps the first wise words you have ever spoken," the leader replies. "Let us do precisely thus."
His words are followed by the sound of all the brigands' weapons being drawn in unison. And without a single moment of hesitation they begin as a group to charge the three men who stand alone on the hillside. For his part Eldarien stands unmoving and, raising his voice to be clearly heard by all, says, "Gedrin is your name? I say to you now: I cannot allow you to destroy the lives of these innocent men and women for your own personal gain." And with this, brilliant light bursts forth from the blade held before him, light blindingly intense, pouring forth in the direction of the Relihim, immediately stopping them mid-stride. Immediately the light is answered by the panicked cries of the men and the echo of their shouts to one another. Among the din are heard the words, "I cannot see! I cannot see! What has happened?"
"But how...what?" comes the voice of another.
When the brilliant light recedes, Eldarien now stands within ten feet of the carriage, having walked forward wielding the light as if drawn to do so by the very radiance pouring forth through him. He looks with eyes of sadness and pity upon the brigands and upon those waylaid by them, the faces of the latter showing both awe and fear, whereas the faces of the former are wrought with confusion, wrath, and terror. For the brigands' eyes, to the last man, look forth unseeing.
"What have you done to us?" asks the leader, his voice now trembling with a mixture of emotions that, whatever they be, have wholly replaced his previous confidence.
"You are plunged now into the darkness that your hearts have long embraced," replies Eldarien, his voice strong and insistent and yet also laced with compassion. "Go forth, and your lives shall be spared. In the blackness that has come upon you, let your heart open its eyes to see, to see the horror of the life that you have chosen. I can only pray that you may find, in this place, the path back to the light."
The leader, after a moment of hesitation, says to his company, "This is a fight we should avoid. Come, men, let us retreat. Whatever devilry is at work here is best left alone." Then, with a din of confused voices, still conflicted among themselves, the brigands retreat, stumbling as if in a night with no stars or moon, not even turning back or stopping until they are hundreds of yards away. As their presence recedes, a wave of relief washes over all who still stand about the caravan, besieged and rescuers alike.
"W-who are you...and what have you done?" asks an elderly woman who sits at the front of the first carriage, a young girl enfolded in her arms and held close to her body. Both still tremble with fear, though their breath comes again like a deep sigh after prolonged suspense.
"I am no one," replies Eldarien. "Know only that you have been spared this day, and go on your way."
"Sir, why, and how, did you take their sight?" asks a young man nearby, stepping forward to look at Eldarien, wonder and curiosity in his eyes, but also a measure of discomfort.
"It was not my intent exactly," Eldarien answers. "The light pours forth and does what it wills. But their sight shall return in time, of this I am sure."
"Then we must hurry on our way!" the same man cries.
"It shall not be so quick as that," explains Eldarien. "But it is true that you should continue on your way. These lands are not safe, and there are many dangers besides the one that you have just faced."
"What is your destination?" asks Rorlain, stepping to Eldarien's side and addressing the caravaners as a group. The other three companions are drawing near now as well, and the travelers, both sitting upon and gathered around the carriages, look upon them with relief and gratitude.
"We travel to Onylandun," answers the elderly woman, "all of us."
"From whence do you hail?" Cirien asks.
"We come from the towns and villages scattered throughout the eastern plains and hillsides."
"But why travel west?" Rorlain asks. "It is dangerous on the other side of the mountains. You would be better off in the place from which you have come."
"You really think so?" a man asks. "We were told that in Onylandun we would find refuge, for the war has not touched that city. Our own towns are besieged—and even our travel is now waylaid."
"Your towns are besieged?" Eldarien questions. "By whom?"
"By the forces of the Empire and their...minions."
"No…" Elmariyë sighs. "Why? For what purpose?" She rubs her forehead with her palm, grieved, an expression of pain upon her face.
The man looks at her, and for a moment he is at a loss for words, before he is able to reply, "They seek to gather a great army, and those who resist are slain or captured. It is difficult to tell whether they wish us to fight for them or rather seek only an excuse to slaughter us. Our lives mean nothing to them...and those beasts, those despicable creatures that come in the night…" With this, as if he is simply unable to force himself to say more, his voice fades into silence.
"We understand of what you speak," says Cirien. "We come from Ristfand and were present during the siege of that city. You are fortunate to have escaped, though I fear little refuge shall await you in your new home. But perhaps there you shall find security yet, at least for a while."
"And know that we intend to stave off this evil at its root," Eldarien says, sheathing his sword and returning the scabbard to his back.
"If I had not just witnessed with my own eyes what you have done," says the man, "I would have scoffed at those words. But now, I don't know…"
"Are you the one of whom they speak?" the woman asks. "They say that a warrior wielding a sword of light slew the commander of the dark forces. He is already becoming a legend and a hope for us throughout the lands of Rhovas, though he disappeared as quickly and as mysteriously as he came."
Rorlain laughs softly and looks at Eldarien to see his reaction, but the latter only closes his eyes for a moment and lowers his head. When he looks up again, he says simply, "That was indeed something accomplished through the light entrusted to us, light which you have witnessed. Know that the gods see the plight of our people and are not indifferent to our suffering. Go on your way and take solace that this war is not yet lost, and that hope of victory yet lives."
After exchanging a few more words and receiving the invitation to visit the caravaners in Onylandun if their path leads them hence, the five travelers depart again to the north, while the caravan travelers stir on their horses to the west, setting their sights anew on the city that awaits them. Onylandun is not far, only on the far end of the Teldyn Pass and a short ride to the north, built into the steep walls of the mountains and hemmed about with protective ramparts of stone hewn from the same mountains. Perhaps it shall indeed provide some safety in the days to come, though this is uncertain.
"How did you know what to do?" Rorlain asks Eldarien when they have walked for a while.
"I did not know. I only felt a little...and desired even more," replies Eldarien. "It was a risk, and yet I could not stand idly by while those innocent people lost both their possessions and, likely, their lives."
"Of course not. I was just surprised, that is all."
"As was I. I had no idea that the light could blind as well as give sight."
"It blinds in order to give sight," interjects Elmariyë. "But it cannot force one to see who wishes it not. It is up to those men now whether they shall come to see or remain in darkness."
"Do you mean they may remain blind forever?" Rorlain asks.
"No, I refer to the inner sight of the heart," she explains. "I felt it too, that silent voice and invitation of which Eldarien speaks. It gives an intuition, an awareness, of what awaits these men."
"But what makes you say that darkness shall lead to the inner sight of the heart?" asks Tilliana.
"Because that is the way it is for all of us," replies Elmariyë simply. "As when the eye tries to look into a light too bright for its gaze—the sun, for example—or when the spirit confronts the evils of the past, the evils that indeed live in its very own depths, one must pass through darkness in order to discover the light."
"I think we all know a little about that now…" sighs Rorlain, scratching his beard thoughtfully and raising his eyes to the mountains before them. "We come near to our destination, and let us only hope that there is not too much darkness before we find the light that we seek."