Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2009 14:50:38 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 14

***Translator's Note: I have labored now for many months rendering the
original manuscript into our modern tongue for the benefit of all, but I
feel some disclaimers and warnings are necessary. Markis writes with
complete and often graphic honesty, depicting mature themes and vividly
describing adult situations between himself and others. While these
encounters are always integrally related to the overall arc of his journey,
those wishing to avoid such content or too young to deal responsibily with
it are therefore forewarned. The work of the translation is mine alone, and
I will object strenuously to any reproduction of it in its whole or in any
part without my express permission.***

Chapter Fourteen

Listen, (Alek told me). This is how it was.

We came to find you - me and Cedrik, and Jelena. Gavril and his
followers. They said you were important and they wanted to help. I didn't
care as long we rescued you. The Veruvians came too - they said they knew
things we didn't, and we let them come even though Gavril didn't want them
to. Jelena said it was a good idea, that we needed all the help we could,
and that was good enough for me.

 It went well at first. The Veruvians pointed us in the right direction,
and soon we were trailing you and your guards, following your tracks north
into the mountains. We made plans for an ambush and swung our weapons at
the air with foolish confidence. But on the second day we lost the trail,
and we didn't know what direction you had gone, and our scouts couldn't
find any signs. That's when things got tense, the alliance we had formed
began to strain.

Gavril shouted at the Veruvians and blamed them. He said if they had spent
more time looking and less time screwing each other, we wouldn't be in this
mess. The Veruvians bristled and shouted back, suggesting that Gavril go
whip himself some more. Through it all was Jelena, yelling at both
sides. She kept shouting that we had to work together if we were going to
get back on track, and I knew she was right. I didn't know what all the
fuss was about.

But then I saw the kid, the servant who had become your friend before the
Ambassador died and they came to arrest you. He was with the Veruvians,
standing quietly behind them while looking at the ground - but I recognized
him. I knew he had spoken against you in the trial and it made me mad. You
really went out of your way to befriend him - I remember. And how does he
repay you, but by speaking lies against you?

I confronted him. He tried to explain, and the Veruvians told me to back
off because he was under their protection. But the Tharonites were angry
too, and Gavril demanded they hand the kid over -- what was his name,
Pasha? -- because he was originally a Tharonite, or his father was or
something. They refused, and we almost came to blows right then. I think we
would have if not for Jelena. The first man who tried to get violent got
her knee right into his groin, and then she kept telling everyone that
fighting amongst ourselves could not be tolerated, that we all wanted the
same thing. The women among the Veruvians supported her, and eventually the
men of both sides relented and moved back to their own parts of our
encampment.

But things were tense. Night was coming, and we all knew that with every
moment our chances of finding you were growing less and less. Jelena said
she was going to go talk to Gavril and try to smooth things over. There was
no leader of the Veruvians, as far as we could see, but Jelena asked that I
go and find somebody with some authority amongst them and try to calm them
down as well.

I said we had one big encampment, but really it was two entirely different
ones that just happened to be side by side. The Tharonites brought small,
one-man tents simply made and quickly assembled. They sat around small
fires at night speaking little. The Veruvians, on the other hand, brought
two large tents made of silks, each of which could hold at least twenty
people. The sound of their laughter and boisterous talking, and most of all
their moans of pleasure could be heard from the Tharonite side of the camp,
and Gavril and his men shook their heads in disgust. It was hard to believe
these two groups were traveling and working together.

I had avoided the Veruvians. They confused me and made me
uncomfortable. But Jelena asked me to go, so I went. Cedrik came with me.

(It is I, Markis, who write these words. I call them from my memory. I
speak in the voice of my friend. For these brief moments, it is as if he is
here with me again.)

They had two large tents, as I said. Cedrik and I went to the nearest one
and peeked in. Neither of us was prepared for what we saw in there. There
was a group of Veruvians, all naked and rubbing up on each other. There
were a lot of women in there, but some men too. They all shouted at us to
come in and join them. Cedrik looked at me and licked his lips, and I knew
what he wanted. I wanted it too, I'm not going to lie, but I knew I had to
finish the job Jelena gave me. Cedrik said he would stay there a while and
see if he could find somebody to talk to, but I knew what he was going to
do. He'd been alone for a long time - hadn't been with a woman the whole
time he worked for Valen, and plus he was finally starting to regain his
strength from the injury and was enjoying being alive.

Things have changed between my brother and me. I don't know when he started
trusting me again, but he seems to have forgiven me for everything. He
understands I'm not like I was - I'm not a slave to the Queen anymore. But
it's been so long... it's almost like we're strangers to each other, trying
to learn how to be brothers again. It's nice to have him back. If he had
died, I don't know what I would have done. I'd have lost my mind. But he
survived, because of you. It's yet another thing I have to thank you for.

Cedrik went in, and the women laughed and tugged at his clothes. I left.

The other tent was a little further away, but I thought maybe that there
would be Veruvians there who weren't so... busy, and who had time to talk
to me. I was wrong.

The tent was much like the other one, only here there seemed to be more men
than women. They were pleasuring each other, the men, which would have
shocked me a few weeks ago. But all I could think about was you, and the
times we have been together, and the things we have done. Some of the
things I saw the men doing in there, well... I wanted to try them. And I
wanted to do them with you. And that scared me, I think, because... I
didn't know that this was part of me. That I could feel this way about
another man. I've always been with women, you see, and I like women. A
lot. So I was all confused inside because now there was something else, and
it seemed to be because of you, and I didn't understand it. It's like I
wasn't sure who I was anymore because of it.

I looked for a long time, but eventually I had to leave. My head was
spinning, and my body was alert and aroused and keyed up. I turned to go
and somebody came running up to me from the group. It was that kid,
Pasha. He looked really scared of me, but he mumbled an apology and an
explanation. He told me he had no choice but to speak against you in the
trial, that they would have killed him if he hadn't. Afterwards they had
lost interest in him, and some of the Veruvians he had known pulled strings
to get him released into their protection.

He said he wanted to help rescue you, and to find his father, and I said
his help would be welcome because it seemed like what I should say. He said
he envied me, because you care about me so much. Because you love me. And
that confused me more, because I knew it was true, and I was glad, but I
didn't know what to do about it. I had to leave then, so I did. I went out
into the night and stared at the sky for a while, alone.

I walked back to the tent I shared with Jelena and Cedrik. I had failed
– none of the Veruvians were interested in talking about peace. I had a
feeling they had all already forgotten about the conflict earlier
anyway. My head was filled with images of the men I had seen in the tent,
and I was confused and scared.

When I saw Jelena again, I kissed her hard. It was our first kiss. I knew I
was only partly doing it because I wanted to, and partly because I was
hiding from something else.
______________________________________________________________________________

(It's easy, remarkably easy to speak in the voice of my friend. His
patterns, his intonations, his common phrases come easily to me. He told me
these things that you are reading, but not everything I wrote here he said
aloud. Some of it I just understood without explanation, because something
in me vibrated in time so perfectly with something in him, and we
understood each other. I have heard certain idealists claim that each human
being has only half a soul, are by their very nature incomplete. True love,
these romanticists say, is finding the person who possesses the missing
half of your being, who makes you whole. I can easily understand where they
got this idea, for between Alek and I there was such harmony and stillness
it did indeed feel like some kind of completion. But however appealing and
plausible, I know this notion to be false, for nothing is incomplete –
and as the holy books taught me since youth, everything you could possibly
want and need you already have and are. Rather, I think, the eternity in me
resonated with the same eternity in him, and we understood without
realizing it that at the deepest level there was no difference between
us. But I grow philosophical, and we have not yet reached the point in my
story in which all of this became clear to me, though we are very near it.)
______________________________________________________________________________

The next day is when it happened. When we struck camp that morning, I was
afraid there would be another fight, but a common consensus was reached to
continue north while keeping our eyes open for any signs. Of course, now I
know that the reason we lost your trail is because you turned east, and
that by continuing north we were going the wrong way. But at the time it
seemed the most logical decision.

We continued for two days in this direction and still had found no sign of
you. I was beginning to despair. Only Jelena kept me sane. I will not speak
more of what occurred between us. I have no wish to hurt you. But I promise
you her desire to find you was as great as mine. She is a loyal friend to
you, Markis, whatever you may think of her. She believes, in some way that
I trust but do not fully understand, that you are very important. I know
you are important to me, and that is all I can think about.

On the morning of the third day, we were ambushed.

It had grown colder as we marched north, and during the night there had
been a dusting of snow. We rarely get snow down in Fermanagh, and I was
ill-equipped for the weather. My shoes and feet were wet within minutes. I
wrapped a spare blanket around me for warmth, for my clothing did little to
keep out the chill of the wind. It was the snow, I think, that muffled
their approach. Having lived in it all their life, they knew how to make
the sound of their walking seem natural, part of the forest. We were in
their territory, and they knew how to blend in to the surroundings. When
they finally appeared, it was so sudden, like a magician's trick. One
moment the path ahead of us was clear, and the next it was blocked by a
knot of giants. We all shouted in surprise.

They were huge. The biggest among them made Golmeir look like a child, but
most were about his size. We were surrounded by them, and while we readied
weapons nervously and prepared to fight, I don't think any of us believed
for a moment we stood a chance against these foes. My hand gripped your
silver sword (it was at my waist - I had never let it leave my sight) and I
caught Jelena's face. It was pale.

"YOU TRESPASS HERE." The voice was impossibly loud. We all shook uneasily,
and the few horses we had with us pranced about in fear.

Everyone tensed. I knew a fight was about to happen, and I knew we would
all be slaughtered. I kept thinking the same thing over and over, and I
didn't know what else to do so I just started shouting a name. I couldn't
think fast enough to make a complete sentence, but I was desperate to be
heard.

"Golmeir!" I shouted, and everyone turned to look at me in
confusion. "Golmeir! Golmeir!"

The giants froze. They looked at each other. Nothing happened for a very
long time.
_____________________________________________________________________________

Enough of this. It is too painful to make him speak again - I had not fully
prepared myself for that. I shall return to my own voice and my own tale,
and make no more attempts to summon up voices from the past.

While Alek and his companions were getting lost in the mountains of
Broxbourne, I remained in a cell growing weaker and fighting off
despair. Golmeir's presence saved me from madness - the Archbishop, no
doubt, would have been furious to know how much comfort I received from the
guard placed to intimidate and subdue me. We spent many hours together in
my cell, talking sometimes and sometimes silent. I marveled at how changed
his appearance seemed to me, though I knew that he was the same as he had
always been - I had simply been unable to see it. It was a side effect of
the amulet's power, Golmeir explained. Strong bonds of attachment are a
threat to the control of the magic - by making the slave seem ugly and
repulsive, such complications are generally avoided. But the veil had
lifted from my eyes, and I could see past the illusion now.

Twice more I relieved his urgent need, part of me hoping that Damon was
watching, jealous and angry. Golmeir told me how the Archbishop, as bearer
of his amulet, had forbidden him from touching his sacred organs as
punishment for his failure to protect Bert and Errold. The males of his
race, Golmeir said, go through intense periods of carnal desire in their
youth. To deny these urges is to bring on great suffering and torment,
something the Archbishop apparently knew. Fortunately for my giant friend,
his master had not thought to forbid him to allow any other to do the deed
for him - thinking, I suppose, that the aura of the amulet's power would
make such a thing unbearable to any who would try.

On none of those occasions, however, did I pleasure myself – I was
afraid, I think, of feeding Damon even inadvertently. While I felt my own
desire sharply at times, in general I was too agitated to enjoy myself
fully. I was content to help Golmeir. His expressions of relief and
gratitude were rewarding. At each moment of climax, he had to clamp shut
his mouth to prevent from moaning and attracting the attentions of the
Archbishop's other guards. He produced an unbelievable amount of fluid - it
pooled on the floor and filled the room with its aroma. Golmeir tried to
explain the pain and discomfort he had experienced keeping all that inside
with no possibility of release, and looking at the sheer quantity of it all
I found that easy to believe.

When I was not pleasuring him, we spoke of little things to pass the time
and fill the emptiness. I told him of my tribe, and stories from my
childhood I had not thought of in years. He told me a little of the giants
and of their history, though in general, of course, I spoke a lot more than
him. But though he was mostly silent, he seemed genuinely interested in my
past, and for my part I enjoyed the sudden freedom to speak my mind to a
willing listener.

"Do you know what I miss most about my village, Golmeir?" I said, babbling,
"Not the rituals, or the structure. Not the holy texts or the incense or
the temple guarding the sacred relics. Not even my father or my friends,
Jacek and Shara, though I miss them all terribly. But what I really miss
the most is the music, the singing. We had sacred hymns and working songs
and songs for celebrations. While we sang, there was no difference between
us. We were united - it didn't matter if one sang well or poorly, we were
all as one."

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thinking. "I don't sing any
more," I said.

Golmeir was silent.

Suddenly he drew a small dagger from his belt, and I was too tired and
hungry to be afraid. But he drew it across his own palm, drawing a thick,
syrupy blood. He took my arm gently and cut my hand as well.

"I have been ordered not to let you have a weapon," he said, "or I would
let you do this yourself."

I said nothing. He gripped my hand in his, and our blood mingled and
blended. It was a noble and generous gesture, and I sensed it was of great
symbolic significance to the giant.

"I cannot sing the songs of your youth," he said, "But in this way you are
not alone. We are one."

 When it was finished he called me brother and patted my head
affectionately and said again that he wished he could help me escape. A
drop of my blood fell to the floor and as I watched with mixed feelings a
tiny, almost unnoticeable bug slithered up to it and drank thirstily.
______________________________________________________________________________

Our time together in the cell could not last forever. Eventually Golmeir
was ordered to bring me before the Archbishop once again. This time I was
received in a large antechamber which had one intricately decorated and
carved wall. I recognized it immediately. It was the same as the door to
the tomb which I had opened at Damon's urging, revealing the Prince's Blade
within.

"Welcome the tomb of Alander the King," the Archbishop said. He was ringed
by his ministers, as usual, and the room was filled with a sizeable number
of guards. Stepan was also present, studiously not looking at me and trying
to appear non-threatening and humble.

"So," the Archbishop said, "You are the heir of Alander - so you say. Do
you still claim it?"

I said nothing, and one of the guards barked at me to speak or I would be
beaten. His voice sounded familiar, and I turned to look at him. It was the
guard who had brought Stepan to me, and he saw that I recognized him. I
looked about, wondering if any of the other guards present were of his
faction, who were not loyal to the large man in the white robe. I felt as
if several shot me significant looks, but I could not be sure if I was
imagining it.

"I deny nothing that I have already said," I replied at last, "I spoke the
truth as far as I know it. I believe it to be true, and though I never
wanted it, yet I cannot deny it."

The Archbishop laughed dismissively, and said, "You speak with no
conviction. You cannot be the child of prophecy with such a passive
nature. You cannot be the force of destiny against your will. The heir of
Alander is not chosen - the heir of Alander chooses."

"You believe you are the one spoken of by prophecy, then?" I challenged.

He rolled his eyes, and his ministers laughed haughtily. "Only a child or a
fool would believe the prophecies point to one specific person. They are
not predictions of definite things that will happen - no man can see the
future, no one can know what will occur, only what could possibly."

I remembered the Seeress saying something similar about her own abilities,
and knew that the Archbishop, for all his arrogance, spoke sense.

"The prophecies are guidelines, signs pointing out the path to follow for
those with the will and courage to act. I will be the heir of Alander
because I will it, because I reach out and seize it. That is what Alander
did. He acted. He saw the way the world should be and he made it so. His
conviction was so strong he remade people around him. He reshaped the
world. That is what it means to be his heir."

The guards in the room shifted uncomfortably. I perceived that not all were
comfortable with what the Archbishop was saying. As a doctrine, I thought,
it must be relatively new and not at all traditional. And yet it made more
sense to me than the fatalistic view of prophecy - it matched up well with
the teachings of my own people. Still, there was something wrong in
it. Something incomplete.

"When I became a Priest of my people," I said thoughtfully, "I was told
this high office had not simply been given to me because it was my
birthright, though it was. But neither had I obtained it simply because I
desired it, though I did. What made it mine were the things I had done and
the person I had become, which showed the Elders who observed me that not
only did I deserve to become a Priest, but that in my heart I already was
one."

"What is your point?" The Archbishop snapped.

"Desire to be powerful is not enough," I said, "You cannot become a leader
through force of will - not the kind who inspires the same change Alander
brought. The man who would be great must change himself before he tries to
change the world. Only then will others follow him to the ends of the
earth."

There was a pause. I felt my words had struck home. Stepan nodded at me
proudly. Several more of the guards began to look at each other with
searching looks, their loyalties divided, their beliefs in turmoil. The
ministers looked worriedly at the Archbishop, willing him to have a clever
response.

"If you are so wise," he said at last, "If you are what you claim, then
surely you will have no trouble opening the door to this tomb?"

"I know the key-words that will allow it," I admitted.

"So do we all," the Archbishop said disdainfully, "Our expert here has
taught us well." He gestured towards Stepan. "But still the door does not
open. Will you try it?"

I wrestled with this decision. I did not want the Archbishop to claim
whatever lay within the tomb. And yet... the guards watched me closely,
their eyes wide with wonder and hope. There was an opportunity here. I knew
what should be done.

And yet I hesitated. I knew that I was quickly passing a point of no
return. I had no desire for power - I did not seek to be a ruler. The last
thing I wanted was the responsibility of other men's lives riding upon my
shoulders. I would rather have found a quiet place to live out my days,
with Alek beside me, where I would trouble no one and no one would trouble
me.

But the Archbishop was right about one thing: I could not become the heir
of Alander by failing to act, by waiting for things to happen instead of
making them. I saw what must be done. The right action here, now, could tip
the scales and change the future irrevocably. To do anything else would be
folly. And in that moment, that brief moment, part of me gave in and
accepted my destiny.

"So be it," I murmured to myself, and I strode to the door of the tomb
without looking back.

I placed my right hand on the wall, feeling the coolness of the stone. My
left hand I raised towards heaven, I closed my eyes and bowed my head until
it faced the earth. I inhaled deeply and when I spoke, it was with the
certain voice of authority I had once used as a Priest but which had been
lost to me since my exile began.

"Seek we to enter, though unworthy," I intoned, slipping into the Sacred
Tongue as a man slips into an old, comfortable garment.

At once the door of the tomb rumbled and split apart, revealing an opening
large enough for two men to enter side-by-side. The Archbishop rose to his
feet and his ministers flailed in agitation. The guards murmured in wonder
to each other, looking at me with fear and respect.

The Archbishop worked quickly, sending two of his ministers and Stepan
inside. "Find the crown, quickly!" he hissed. He was now growing aware of
the danger. He could sense his soldiers slipping away from him.

Several of the guards had already moved closer to me, and one or two had
edged slightly closer to the Archbishop. Amongst the remainder there was
confusion - it was clear that two sides were forming, and neutrality would
not be an option. I could read on their faces the battle of loyalties
taking place in their hearts. Some filtered over to one side, some to the
other. The movements were slight, but it was clear what decision each one
had made. I noticed with growing excitement but without surprise that many
more had taken a step towards me than towards my enemy.

The ministers and Stepan appeared from the tomb.

"It's not there!" they shouted.

"What?" The Archbishop replied, crossing to them angrily, "What do you
mean?"

"There's no crown in there, nothing! It's empty!"

"Impossible!" The Archbishop raged.

I took a step forward. "The crown does not belong to you," I said, "You
will never find it."

He regarded me venomously, taking note now at the number of guards who had
switched to my side. For the first time he took the danger seriously. He
and his men were outnumbered in the room, and though there were many more
soldiers he could call, it would take them some time to get there.

"Enough of this!" he said, wrapping his hand around the amulet at his
neck. "Golmeir, kill this imposter. Kill Markis now!"

Where the giant came from or how he reached me so quickly, I do not
know. All I remember is that suddenly his hand was round my neck and I was
lifted from the ground. I could not fight against his strength, and he
began to squeeze the life from me. Our eyes met, and though I felt I was
about to die I did my best to convey through my look that I bore him no ill
will - that I understood and forgave this act, even at the end. His noble
face bore unspeakable agony.

Just as separate loyalties were already pulling apart the guards in the
room, opposing forces in Golmeir himself were pulling towards different
ends. The magic of the amulet fought for control and dominance, but the act
which had been commanded was so at odds with the nature and inclination of
his deepest being that he had found a foothold in which to resist. Stepan
had told me how the bearers of the amulets would never command their slaves
to harm another of their race, and Golmeir had said the illusion of
ugliness was to prevent the formation of emotional attachments. We had
overcome that barrier, and had become brothers and friends. Golmeir could
not obey the command.

He screamed and released me, an act of defiance against his slavery that
cost him dearly. He collapsed to the floor, and a stream of blood trickled
from his nose. I heard the Archbishop shout and turned to see him casting
the amulet away from him, saw it melting and smoking on the floor. The
spell was broken, and the giant was free.

"Defend me!" the Archbishop shouted to his guards and ministers. "Call the
others!"

I raised my voice and called to those whose loyalty was now mine. "Hear me,
friends! To the tomb, quickly!"

There was a brief skirmish. My men and I pushed our way towards the opening
of the tomb, which the Archbishop's faction tried to prevent. I knew they
did not have to hold us for long before more guards would come to aid
them. Some, perhaps, would join our side, but I could not take the
chance. Former comrades and brothers-in-arms now struggled against each
other as my men pushed aside all opposition to reach the entrance to the
tomb.

"Stepan, Golmeir, to me!" I shouted, and the old man came running and the
giant lumbered weakly to my side.

We dashed into the silent, dark tomb, my men fighting off guards and one by
one following us. When finally it seemed the last of those loyal to me had
crossed the threshold, I slapped my hands against the door of the tomb and
murmured in the Tongue. At once the door rumbled closed.

Through the fading crack of the door I could see the Archbishop shouting
wildly, madly. Then with a thud the door shut, and we were left in
darkness. Safe. Trapped.
______________________________________________________________________________

"We have explored every inch," Stepan reported, his face ghostly in the
light of one of the few torches we had been able to make. "There is no
other exit from the tomb save the one we entered."

I nodded grimly. So much for that idea. My men were still inspired by my
presence, and they did not murmur, but I could see panic in their eyes as
they realized our situation. We could stay here in the tomb and die of
starvation, or we could open the door and face an entire garrison of loyal
Broxbourneans.

"If only we could send messages to our brothers," one of my new soldiers
said, "Many would join us, I know it. The Archbishop speaks blasphemies -
you are truly the one."

I scratched my chin and tried not to appear frightened. I was a leader now,
like it or not, and I had to set an example of courage. "And there is no
sign of Alander's crown?" I asked, "Or any other relic?"

Stepan shook his head, "None at all. There's a few artifacts, but nothing
special. Wherever Alander's regalia are, if they still exist, they are not
here."

"What will we do now, sir?" a soldier asked me. They weren't sure what to
call me, yet, so they gave me the title of respect due to a commanding
officer.

"I will think of something. We're in here for a reason, I promise
you. Don't be afraid."

The men scoffed at the idea, as though fear were impossible for them, but
in their eyes I could see the truth. They said they would follow me
anywhere with their heads held high in honor, and I believed them. Their
loyalty, given so quickly, so effortlessly, frightened me a little.

We set up a semblance of a base camp, and I set the men to work to keep
them busy. A few I sent searching the various rooms of the tomb in search
of material to make more torches. The others were set to create defensive
positions in the unlikely event the army outside found its way in. Stepan
and I went to investigate the few artifacts he had found, and to examine
inscriptions written in the Sacred Tongue that had been carved into the
walls. After some hours we found a chunk of writing that seemed, we
thought, to speak of Alander and of his treasures. However the carving was
badly preserved, and pieces were missing. We were able to make very little
sense of it.

I took extra care to check on Golmeir, who felt weak and was resting.

"I can no longer feel it," he said, "It's over. I'm free."

His words were unnecessary. The moment we had lit the first torch the men
had gasped in shock at the sight of the giant. Freed from the spell of the
amulet, he appeared in his actual likeness to them all, no longer a monster
or a repulsive beast. I had known then for sure what had happened, and was
happy for the first time in what felt like forever. Now I took his hand in
mine, the hands the still bore the wound from our blood-joining, and
gripped him warmly, thankfully. Whatever would happen, whether we died in
the tomb or fighting the Archbishop, or whether I ended up someplace far
away with Alek or, I thought with some fear, without him -- no matter what
happened or how long my life might be, Golmeir would always now be my true
friend. And knowing that, I felt comforted.

Eventually we slept. It took many hours, for the thrill of the fight and
our narrow escape still pumped in our blood. Time passed and I still had
not formed a plan for our escape. The entire group of men looked for me for
a sign. They were eager to act, and all the waiting with no end in sight
left them uneasy and upset. At last, Stepan pulled me aside.

"The men are restless," he said.

"I know," I said, "I don't know what to do about it. We're in a difficult
situation."

"Talk to them," he said, "Reassure them. Inspire them."

I sighed. "What can I say? That everything is fine and they shouldn't fear?
They'll only mock me."

"You are their leader and their hero, now. They will believe anything you
say."

I almost said that I did not want to be their leader or their hero, but a
look on Stepan's face stopped me. It would have been a childish thing to
say. It was how it was, and there was no going back now. I walked away for
a time to be alone.

I stood now on a crossroads. Have you ever stood on the precipice of such a
long-reaching choice, mysterious reader? I could see the path that was
prepared for me. I could see it and guess at some of the sights it would
lead me to before it wound out of my view and into the unknowable future. I
could see how every lost, confusing moment of my life seemed to add up to
this purpose, this choice. I was afraid, because the choice seemed
inevitable and I felt powerless to stop it. And yet it was not so. Without
action on my part, it would not happen. I could no longer watch and wait
and hope to stay unaffected. The time had come to embrace my destiny -- no,
to create it.

What else could I do? If I chose to hide, to take an easy path and avoid
this destiny, wouldn't I one day look at myself, then an old and tired man,
and wonder what I could have been? What I could have done, if only I had
had more courage? Did I dare to face a life-time of regret? I did not think
I could bear it. For better or worse, I would act the way I knew I should.

I would act like the man I knew I should be, and in this way I would become
him.

I called the men together.

"Perhaps some of you are regretting your decision to support me," I said,
"If so, I cannot blame you. Were I not certain you would be killed, I would
freely allow you to return to the other side if you wanted. But you and I
are bound together now - we cannot change it."

"You are my army," I continued, "It's a small army, I admit. But you have
shown your strength and courage. Each of you made a difficult and dangerous
choice, supporting me. I know what you think of me and, I think I know what
it is you expect me to do, else you would not have done as you have. But I
want to hear it from your own lips. Who say you that I am?"

"You are the one awaited," one soldier breathed.

Another added, "The light bringer."

"The uniter," said another, "The unifier."

"You lost your tongue, they say," said the soldier who had brought Stepan
to me, "And the heavens gave you a new one, holy and pure so that you could
speak the truth."

I looked at them all, their eyes filled with admiration, and took a deep
breath.

"I am the heir of Alander," I said at last, "I want you to know it, and I
want you to hear it from my lips. We are a small group, but from the moment
we leave this tomb we will grow in strength and numbers. Since my exile a
short time ago, I have visited many parts of our great lands. In each of
them I saw people hungry, miserable, oppressed. I saw leaders corrupt and
violent with power. The time is ripe for change. Brothers, we are that
change. We shall wash over the world like a wave and we shall cleanse
it. We shall set the people free. Your Archbishop would make himself ruler
of our lands, enslaving everyone to his lust for power. We will oppose him,
I swear it. I cannot do this alone. I need each of you, and the change that
will come will be yours as much as mine. Will you join me?"

This final question I shouted, and the men shouted back their approval and
assent. I had forged them into a unit, and taken the first step on the long
road that would lead me to the throne of power where now I sit.
______________________________________________________________________________

More time passed. What I was waiting for I did not know. Morale stayed
high, and I visited each man in my little group and learned his name. They
were eager to fight for me. They were willing to die. I longed to keep that
from happening.

I could not. Only two men from that group of soldiers are alive today. I
must pause to weep for them all again.
______________________________________________________________________________

"Markis," one of the soldiers said, for I had commanded them to call me by
my name and not by any fanciful title. "Markis, come quickly."

I followed him to the entrance of the tomb and, as his insistence, placed
my ear against the stone. The walls were thick and solid, but I thought I
heard a great commotion on the other side. Shouting, perhaps. And there,
was that the crack of metal against metal? Of fighting?

"What does it mean?" the soldier asked.

"Do we dare open the tomb and find out?" another added.

I considered. I needed to know for certain what was going on. If the
Archbishop's forces had come under some kind of an attack, it could be the
perfect opportunity for us to leave the tomb at last. But I had to know for
sure, and there was only one way to do that. I knew it at once.

I told them all I wished to be alone to meditate and to consider. Golmeir
was the hardest to convince. He would not leave my side. I went to one of
the side rooms of the tomb and set him to guard the entrance, but I made
him promise not to enter or to shed any light into the room.

Finally I was alone in the darkness. Damon came without my bidding.

"I knew you would need me again soon," he said, a touch of satisfaction in
his voice.

"You know much," I said, "I think you knew all this would happen."

"I guessed," he said, and though I could barely see him in the darkness I
knew that he was smiling, "Did I not tell you that you were destined for
greatness? I know of the things I speak. I know of your potential. I have
seen all this before."

"Alander was your master before me," I said.

"Oh yes," he replied, "A promising boy, like you, but without ambition. I
gave him that ambition. I made him great, I led him to glory, and I will do
the same to you."

"Perhaps," I said, "But no more killing. I need you, and you need me. We
must work together, and play by my rules. Agreed?"

He was silent.

"Damon, I need you to see what is going on outside the tomb. You can get
out, I know you can."

"I would love to, Master," he said, "But I'm so weak. I can barely
stand. You have not fed me for days and days."

I sighed. "I will do so now, if that is what it requires."

He licked his lips eagerly and knelt before me.

"Damon," I said, as he took me in his hands.

"Yes, Master?" he replied, looking up at me.

"Don't make me regret this," I pleaded. He grinned wickedly and wrapped his
mouth around me. There was a pit of apprehension in my stomach. Damon's
beauty was unspeakable, but still I closed my eyes and thought of Alek
until it was over. I grunted softly as I released, and after he had
swallowed every drop Damon bowed with a flourish and vanished.

He returned again in an instant.

"You're not going to believe this," he said.

"What is it? What's happening?"

He grinned again, "Go and see for yourself. It's quite safe to open the
tomb. You'll find friends waiting beyond."

I still did not trust him, and yet I sense he spoke the truth.

I strode past him, collected Golmeir, and walked back to the tomb's door
with purpose.

"What's going on, Markis?" Stepan asked as I passed.

"It's time," I announced, "We're leaving. When we entered this tomb we all
died a little, and now we will be born again. Don`t forget what happened
here."

I placed my hand against the door of the tomb and spoke the key-words. It
rumbled open, and we all blinked into the light of the room beyond.

As my eyes adjusted, I could see that there had indeed been a
battle. Corpses and chaos lay strewn about the room. In the middle stood
the victors, who amazed me.

A handful of giants, their armor wet with the blood of their enemies,
filled my view so entirely that I did not for a moment see who was
accompanying them. I saw Gavril first, which confused me more, but then I
saw other Tharonites. And there was Jelena, holding a spear proudly. Near
her stood little Pasha. Behind me Stepan yelped and pushed past me and ran
to him. Pasha tried to speak, but Stepan pulled him into an embrace of joy
and would not let go.

I looked over the crowd hungrily, eagerly. At last I saw him.

His hair had grown slightly longer, creeping over his ears, and he seemed
paler than I remembered, but his beauty was not diminished. His eyes
twinkled as he crossed to me, relief clearly written on his face. I thought
I might melt, becoming a puddle upon the floor and embarrassing myself
before my men.

He crossed the distance between us in a moment, and I had just enough time
to say his name before he swept me into a deep, sincere embrace that
silenced the room. All eyes were upon us - particularly, I would imagine,
Jelena's. I saw none of them, for time seemed paused at that moment when I
felt his arms around me and his face buried into my neck. At last he pulled
away, stroking my bald head affectionately.

"You forgot this," he said, smiling, handing me my silver sword. I took it
and raised it high into the air. My soldiers, recognizing it, shouted my
name in triumph.

Somewhere, I think, Damon was laughing with delight.

***Happy New Year to all! More to come soon, but in the meantime keep in
touch: thephallocrat@gmail.com***