The Shadow at the Gate (54 page)

“Nokhoron spoke of what he had seen. Anue listened to him, surrounded by the other Aro. Then, without a reply, Anue walked away. His footsteps echoed within the halls and faded into silence. Twilight fell. It was then, in the quiet, that Nokhoron thought again on what he had seen within the void. The jewel fell through his thoughts as it had fallen through the nothingness of the void. And his thoughts darkened as the jewel shone ever brighter in his memory. When Nokhoron had come perilously near the end of his musing, Anue returned. He spoke once again.

“All of the Aro turned aside in deference and honor to him, that they might not see the speaking of the word. But Nokhoron dared to look from behind his hands, opening one eye to see the utterance. Such was the power of the word that it blinded his one eye, searing it with the terrible brilliance of Anue’s thought. In agony and horror, Nokhoron stumbled from the house of dreams and found himself in the heights of the void. There, again, he was the first to witness the manifestation of the second word. Great lights flared into being in the void. The distant flames of the stars, the frozen sheen of the moon by night, and the burning globe of the sun by day.”

Thunder rumbled again, far in the east, and the hawk again fell silent as he listened to the sound.

“But what has any of this to do with me?” said Jute in bewilderment. “You speak of very strange things. Yet, here we are, in the middle of this plain, running from the city, running for my life from the wihht and the shadows in the streets. The wind whispers in my dreams and my hand aches as it remembers the edge of the knife. I wish to hear of these things. I want to fly.”

“You must understand what has gone before,” said the hawk, “in order to understand today. You’ll not do any flying for a while, if I can help it. You’d be doing more falling than flying, I daresay, and dashing your brains out on the nearest rock. So kindly devote yourself to listening. Now, where was I?”

“The stars,” said Severan, trying to not sound too eager. “The stars, the moon, and the sun.”

“Ah, yes. The stars, the moon, and the sun sprang into being like flames and ice and fire. And beneath them, turning in the void and warmed by the lights, was the world. Malice awoke in Nokhoron, fueled by his great pain, and he knew hate for the first time. He looked within his mind with his one blind eye and discovered the remembrance of the spoken word of Anue that that eye had seen. He bound his hatred into the memory of the word until it twisted and turned within his mind. A new word formed, and he spoke it forth as his one good eye stared into the void. Both eyes gazed: one in the void and the ruined one in the malice of Nokhoron’s mind. The word fell from his mouth and created the darkness. This welled up between the stars and moon and sun. It flowed across the face of the world like water from a spring. It threatened to drown everything in its endless night. The darkness even crept up to the house of dreams, and within that house the shadows deepened wherever Anue was not.

“Anue was troubled at this, for the power within Nokhoron was of a dreadful might. It was not the power to make. Instead, it was the power to unmake, for darkness is the destruction of the light. Anue had not lifted his hand to such a thing within the memory of the house of dreams, and in that house there is no beginning or end to memory.

“The Aro went to war against Nokhoron, their brother and enemy. They called him Nokhoron Nozhan—the watcher in the darkness. He was their eldest and had been beloved by all the Aro. This made his betrayal great. But the love of the Aro was first given to Anue, who stood silent in the house of dreams. They found, however, that the darkness had so filled the void that it seemed limitless, and the Aro feared that, like the house of dreams, the dark had no beginning or end, relieved only by the intermittent stars and the distant, lonely materials of space. They could not find Nokhoron Nozhan, for he had hidden himself away in the deep places of darkness.

“While they hunted, Anue called to himself the youngest of the Aro. Her name was Geronwe, and her brothers and sisters called her the fairest of them, for her eyes were filled with light. She stood before Anue in the house of dreams and he gave her the task of completing the world with all manner of creature. He spoke to her ear new words of power that subsided into expectation within her mind, and he touched her mouth so she might in turn speak them into being.

“But by the whisper of shadow to shadow and thence to deeper shadow, Nokhoron Nozhan heard the quick footsteps of Geronwe as she descended from the house of dreams into the heights of the world. She alighted in the east, where the mountains pierce the sky, and spoke the first of the words Anue had given to her. Thus were the Earmdu created. They are the eldest of the world and greatly hated by Nokhoron Nozhan, for they were created to guard those weaker in the world who have no such means to stand against the Dark. But even then, as the first of the Earmdu came blinking and wondering into the sunlight and the sight of Geronwe, fairest of all the Aro, Nokhoron Nozhan reached out and caught hold of his youngest sister. The Earmdu were helpless before him and fled in terror. Ever since then their race has walked in sorrow, for theirs is the guilt of having fled the anguish of she they call Leoth (life, in the common tongue of men), who brought them forth in the morning of the world.

“Nokhoron Nozhan bound Geronwe and bore her away into the darkness, giving no heed to her entreaties, though she wept and pleaded with him on strength of blood and brotherhood. There, in the dark, he tortured her until her body and mind were broken. So it was he learned from her mouth the remaining words of power Anue had given her. Satisfied that her mind was emptied of this knowledge, he freed her and left her to wander, near witless, in the darkness.

“This was how Nokhoron Nozhan came to possess the words of power Anue had whispered to Geronwe in the house of dreams. He brooded within the darkness and turned the words over in his thoughts, twisting them until they were his and replete with malice. Venturing closer to the world, he spoke the words one by one. They tumbled down through the sky, like jewels that glowed with a dark light, and fell to earth in the region of Ranuin in the north.

“This was how the Dark came to be upon the face of the world. Terrible creatures arose. The races of trolls and ogres were born, those who hunger for flesh and delight in destruction. The people of the cobold rose from the dust and hid themselves deep within the mountains, deep within the secret places. Wights walked in the shadows of the forests. There were other creatures that came to being, awful fashionings that have wandered far down through the years of history, forgotten now but still living within the old places of the world. Most dreadful of all, however, in the ice of the mountains of Ranuin, three sceadus stood in the snow. In them was focused all the malice of their master and they were woven with enchantment. For while the other stolen words had spawned entire races, Nokhoron Nozhan saved the last word to form these solitary three.

“The sceadus stood silent. Their flesh was as cold and as hard as stone, and in their eyes gleamed the dark light of the jewels. Beauty was theirs, even though every other spawn of Nokhoron Nozhan was loathsome to look upon, so twisted were they by his malice. The sceadus were similar to the Earmdu in form, being tall and lean and noble of face. Nokhoron Nozhan, perceiving that even such creatures could not contain the depth of his malice, took his sword in hand and drew its edge along his side. Three drops of blood fell to the ground, and when they touched the snow, steam rose hissing. There lay blood no longer, but three gems that burned with scarlet fire. He gave a stone to each of the sceadus. In the stones was the incandescence of Nokhoron Nozhan’s malice. With them could the fair things of the world be twisted and corrupted to the will of the darkness.

“Nokhoron Nozhan was gladdened by what he had wrought, and pride swelled his heart. But as he stood gloating on the heights, the Aro came hunting, filled with wrath, for their sister Geronwe had finally wandered free from the darkness, making her way like a witless beast back to the house of dreams.

“Nokhoron Nozhan, perceiving the Aro were few in number, called forth his armies of ogres and trolls carrying axes, wights riding on swift dowoles and wielding iron spears. The folcstan with stone hammers marched in rank upon rank. The sound of their passing was like the clashing of stone, for they had been formed when the light of the jewels had fallen on the rocks of the Ranuin plain. The sceadus were at the forefront of all. Not even the dowole-mounted wights could surpass them, for the sceadus were fleet of foot and flickered like shadows across the landscape.

“Of all the creatures of the dark, only the cobolds were absent from the amassing on the Ranuin plain. But their efforts were not absent, for the little creatures are the masters of the forge, content to burrow under mountains, mining for ore to feed their smelts and smithies. The armor and weapons of Nokhoron Nozhan’s army came from their forges. The top of the northern spur of the Ranuin range was shrouded in smoke, for the cobolds were a crafty folk and cut shafts from deep below the roots of the mountains that rose straight up to the heights. It was through these narrow stone chimneys that the smoke and fume of their furnaces were relieved and guttered into the air.

“The Aro sent Ermannuon and Tanurlin, the captains of the Aro, to parley with Nokhoron Nozhan. Their swords were forged in starfire and they cast no shadow as they walked, so shone their armor and the bright beauty of their visage. The army of the Dark quailed before them and doubt gripped them, though the sceadus stood unmoved.

“Ermannuon called out to Nokhoron Nozhan, to him who had been his elder brother and ever the best and brightest of the Aro. His words fell through the air like music, a shining song of memories and regret. He spoke of the past, of the clean, pure curve of the world, and of Anue standing silent within the shadows of the house of dreams. He spoke with forbearance as, of the Aro, Ermannuon still bore kindness in his heart toward the traitor, for he was next in age to him. But Nokhoron Nozhan answered him with scorn and bade him gaze upon the works of his hands, upon the creatures of his own devising. Then Tanurlin spoke in rage, for the memory of Geronwe weeping within the house of dreams was in his thoughts, and he put his hand to his sword. Thus did the Ranuin War begin.

“The Aro were sorely pressed, for though they were mighty, they were few in number. They swam as if in a sea of darkness, such was the multitude of Nokhoron Nozhan’s army that surged against them. It was then that the Earmdu came to their aid, falling upon the flank of their enemies. The ogres and trolls died beneath their swords in scores, for the Earmdu were of strong arm and keen eye and ranged behind them were their archers. An arrow loosed from an Earmdu bow will never fail to find its mark. The enemy retreated before them, as the Earmdu flung themselves recklessly into the fray. They were filled with such sorrow and despair that they cared not for their own lives. The name of Geronwe was their battle cry, and they died in great numbers.

“The tide was turned, however, and the captain of the Earmdu met Tanurlin, he who commanded the Aro, in the midst of the carnage. And Tanurlin, leaning on his bloodstained sword, gave to the Earmdu long life for the deed they had rendered to the Aro. The captain of the Earmdu paled at his words, knowing full well their sentence of grief was lengthened, for there is no Earmdu living that does not carry the sorrow of Geronwe in their heart. But Tanurlin spoke again and gave into their hands the caretaking of the new peoples of the earth, for he revealed to the Earmdu the existence of man within Anue’s thoughts.

“The remnants of Nokhoron Nozhan’s forces fled away into the mountains and forests of the east in the region of Ranuin. The Aro and Earmdu hunted them all through the long winter but, though many more were slain, just as many escaped into the dark and secret places of the world. The three sceadus hid themselves away and were never found. The hunt was abandoned, for the Earmdu were gravely depleted by their losses on the battlefield and the Aro had already bent their thoughts back to the house of dreams and their sister who wept alone there. Several of the Aro, however, chose to stay in this world, for they elected to watch and wait for the return of the Dark.

“As for Nokhoron Nozhan, no trace of him was found. He fled away into the darkness, gathering it around him like a shroud. From within its depths he slowly recovered his strength and nursed his malice. It was then that he built Daghoron, the fortress of night.”

With these words, the hawk fell silent. They walked on for a while. The wind sighed in the grass, as if it remembered, and there was a chill in the air.

“Incredible,” sputtered Severan. “Amazing. Fantastic. Do you realize that there isn’t a single book that refers to any of this? Not one. At least, no book I’ve read.” He rubbed his hands together in glee. “Just wait until I return to the Stone Tower. No one will believe it. No one.”

“But what’s this to do with me?” said Jute in bewilderment. “I don’t see how it has anything to do with the wind and Hearne and that wretched wihht. You’re confusing me, and I think I’m confused enough.”

“It has everything to do with you. Remember, young Jute, several of the Aro did not return to the house of dreams.” The hawk’s voice soft with weariness and something else. “There were four of them. I remember well. They made their pact on the battlefield. One to guard the earth, one to stand as a sentinel in the midst of fire, one to walk the paths of the sea, and one to watch over the wind.”

The wind sighed in Jute’s ear and he saw in his mind an empty place. No—it was not an empty place, but an enormous plain that stretched away under a night sky. Mountains bounded it on either side, receding to the north. The air was choked with the stench of blood and smoke. The plain’s expanse was littered with the wreckage of war. Immense engines of iron and wood and stone lay broken and burning. The dead were there in countless host, and it seemed there was no inch of bare earth that could be stepped upon without instead stepping upon a corpse. Jute saw four figures standing in the midst of a great throng of dead. They were tall and clad in shining armor. One of them turned, and Jute glimpsed gray eyes and a stern face. The eyes widened slightly, as if in recognition. Jute blinked and found himself standing on the Scarpe Plain once again.