Chapter 4. The Enlightened
Living beside his odd companion, the prince of the Plain Countries gradually started to see the mountain from a different point of view. The landscape was not looking dry and empty to him anymore. Arios was teaching him how to find nutritious roots even in the places where only bare ground was visible. He talked to the cool mountain streams – it was his way to find comfort in the wasteland. Even the cliffs were not so threatening like before. They rather resembled wise old men that have seen many ages, guardians of everything that flies, runs or crawls through their realm. He didn’t know if this was caused by some sorcerer’s spell, or all the magic was in the fact that he was not alone anymore. It would be too much to say, however, that in those days a great friendship developed between the two. Arios was a silent companion. He talked only when it was necessary, when there was a need to set a camp, find some food, light a fire. There was a kind of empty space around him which limited any closeness with another human being. It was probably result of the long solitude, a way to survive without other people, or maybe it was other way around - maybe the emptiness which surrounded him resulted in withdrawing from the world of men. With these things it was impossible to tell which was the effect and which the cause.
Still, his simple presence was having almost a healing influence on Orin’s spirit, because the prince used to be surrounded with people who would have not even looked at him twice if he weren’t the son of their ruler. In the Plain Countries, what everyone saw was his title, and they bowed to him out of fear. It meant nothing to Arios. He did not have any power over the sorcerer. Here, he was not a prince, he hadn’t had any privileges, he couldn’t force his will on anything, and yet it seemed to him he was now for the first time in his life in company of another human being. It was a new experience for him and it demanded a certain effort to get used to the situation.
He was ever more convinced he will reach his goal, and the sense of it fulfilled him. He was daydreaming about the moment when he would put on his finger the Ring of the Kings and proclaim to his country the beginning of the age of peace and prosperity.
“Once I am a true ruler of my people,” said he to Arios, who listened with interest the prince talking about his quest, “there will never be war again. Everyone will have all what he needs and be satisfied with his position. Nobody would stand against the bearer of the Ring of the Kings. The life in the Plain Countries will be happy, at last.”
The sorcerer didn’t share his enthusiasm.
“Foolishness,” he said. “Nobody could make all people happy. There will always be the malcontents you will have to calm down. It’s not in human’s nature, to be happy all the time. That doesn’t depend on the good will of their ruler or the richness of the country. Only rare moments in life can be considered really happy ones. If you use your ultimate power to forbid people the right to be unhappy, they will consider you a tyrant, just like they would if you hold them in slavery and misery. And they would hate you even more, knowing they cannot overthrow you.”
“What do you know!” Orin waved his hand angrily. “You didn’t live among people for years. It seems you’ve forgotten more about them than you think!”
Arios shrugged and continued walking.
After some time he said “And you, do you think the ultimate power will make you happy?”
“I yearned for it since I was boy,” said the prince. “When I get it, I’ll know if it made me happy.”
“My power was great,” said Arios. “And it was the cause of my ruin. Sometimes it looks to me there is some strange law - the greater power a man wields, the more often his deeds end as a disaster. Besides, you always live in fear of losing it. Conspiracies, plots... Rulers are always in grave peril.”
Orin laughed.
“Anyway, I am already living in fear. And in the matter of that law of yours, I would rather say that deeds of all men equally often do end as a disaster, only the consequences are more severe when those mightier are involved.”
“This means, if you want to do something good, you must question ten times every decision you make.” Arios was not giving up. “You would become a slave of your own power. And the slaves are never happy.”
“Hah, you just philosophize,” the answer came, “but you cannot know what will happen if you don’t try. In any case, I am not afraid to try. Unlike a certain sorcerer whose magic scared him so much that he ran away into the desert and pushed his head in a hole, I just might succeed in improving the world.”
“Hah! I can hardly wait the day you’ll swallow these words!” grinned the sorcerer.
“And when I reach the ultimate power, beware!” shouted the prince. “You will be the first one whom I’ll forbid the bad moods and unhappiness! Even if you’ll hate me because of it for the rest of your life.”
“I would like to know what wrong I did to the gods, to send me on a road with such a fool.” The sorcerer concluded the argument, rolling his eyes.
Light conversations like this helped them to break the monotony of the journey. Neither one of them was able to imagine what would really happen if they find the ring, and what is the nature of its power.
So they travelled for many days, orienting themselves by the gigantic bulk of the Dragon Rock which still rose in the distance, still towering above all the other peaks; and was still very far from them.
One sombre afternoon the road brought them to a huge plateau, surrounded by mountains. The ground was bare, without vegetation. The rocks of unusual shapes, the works of art made by the sharp wind which blew continuously over the plain, were placed here and there, disabling the travellers to see the whole plateau.
“This looks deserted,” said Orin.
“I feel a presence,” Arios warned.
“Whose?”
“It’s hard to tell. But this plateau is not completely deserted.”
“The best thing is to keep moving. We’ll find out what it is.”
“This sword of yours,” said Arios, “is it just a decoration, or do you use it?”
“We shall see,” said Orin. “Just a few people were successful in beating me, but those were friendly skirmishes, to the first blood. I’ve used it only once in real situation, against the bunch of drunken soldiers in some tavern who did not recognize me at first.”
He unsheathed the weapon. It was a broadsword, which only a very strong man could wield with just one hand. The hilt was wrapped with the skin so the sword wouldn’t slip out of the hand when the swordsman begins to sweat. The blade was carefully polished and the tip sharpened; this also enabled stabbing.
“I hope they wouldn’t be warlike, whoever they might be,” said Arios. “Better put it back in sheath.”
They moved carefully, listening from time to time to the silence. The breeze which followed them on the road vanished somewhere behind, on the beginning of the maze. Nothing moved, and that was most frightening. The places where birds and beasts do not dwell, Arios knew, surely were haunted by some restless ghosts.
After some time of wandering quietly, they reached open space, obviously the centre of the maze. There was a building in that place, made of green stones, tall and silent, with a round roof - a remnant of some ancient age, maybe from the times when the dragons were still flying freely over the lands of men. Its door, ten paces in height, were opened, and in its interior darkness abode.
“What is this?” Orin’s voice echoed from the naked walls and was amplified a hundred times, resounding through the maze. The travellers suddenly felt uneasy.
“I don’t know. A temple, a shrine, maybe?” whispered Arios.
“Shall we go in?”
“These places could be dangerous.”
“The building is ancient. There’s nobody in the vicinity. It would be better to sleep in there.”
“Yes,” said Arios, but his thoughtful gaze was saying the opposite.
“Maybe you are right. The god that inhabited this temple must have been dead for a long time.”
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The inside of the building consisted of one chamber only, dim and cold. In the middle there was a simple altar made from the same green stone, without any visible symbols. They settled beside the wall, close to the entrance, and brought out part of their supplies from the sacks. The animal, free from its burden, wandered away searching for the sparse grass. Arios was not afraid of losing the animal - this gift from the People-on-Stone proved to be a very intelligent, obedient and enduring creature.
The time that was left until the nightfall they have spent walking around, seeking for any trace of life. If there ever was something in the temple that would have revealed the secret of its builders, it probably crumbled into dust a long time ago.
The green stone was gleaming under last rays of the setting sun. The night came swiftly, and the travellers sprawled on their blankets, trying to sleep.
“Strange,” said Orin, lying in the dark, “Who would build a temple in such a wasteland?”
“I don’t have any idea. Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow. And maybe we won’t. Anyway, I would like to sleep now,” concluded the sorcerer, breaking Orin’s attempt to make conversation.
Orin was awake for a long time after. The thoughts of the Ring of the Kings and the power it contains were endlessly repeating anew. Is it possible for a man to have ultimate power? Could he stand face to face with death and say: “I am not afraid of you any more; the world is now but a reflection of my imagination?”
At some hour he felt an irresistible desire to sit on the stone altar. Somebody was quietly whispering inside his head, telling him what to do, and it all looked perfectly natural and understandable. His drowsy mind didn’t question anything. He rose, carefully trying not to wake the sleeping man, and tiptoed to the green stone. There he sat down with his legs crossed and closed his eyes.
“The Death is your ultimate enemy, the most powerful, the most terrible,” the quiet voice was rustling in prince’s ears. “He, who conquers the Death, becomes the mightiest man. Destroy the fear, face it, laugh at it, and it will disappear.”
He was slowly sinking into a deeper trance. The echo of the non-material voice in his head has made all the other senses irrelevant. “If you look in the Death’s eyes and pass through it, you shall be free. Death is an evil master who rules our souls. But it doesn’t have real power over us. If you laugh in the Death’s face, you will be almighty. Gain freedom by crossing the border of Death.”
Greenish light was crawling like sticky liquor through the gates of the temple. Silent incantation reverberated through the chilly night air. A ghostly procession emerged from the darkness, gliding to the temple. Their faces drained, their eye-sockets black, came the people from times past, walking slowly, with measure, singing prayer to the divinity who waited for them on the other side of death; it was like every step they made was prescribed by some spectral master of ceremony. The procession separated and encircled the altar, where the prince was sitting.
“Be enlightened,” the voice was saying, “join the army of the immortals!”
The last part of Orin’s free consciousness was warning the intoxicated mind, but in vain. He rose from the altar and stepped among the eerie apparitions. The green light enveloped him completely. Without a word, the procession started through the door, disappearing in the night.
The next morning, Arios woke alone in the ominous silence.
Interesting, how it always seems to a man that he alone, of his own will, decides about his actions, that he’s free to shape his own destiny, the sorcerer was reflecting while he made his way out of the stony maze.
He was followed by the animal of burden, and also by the wind, which never faltered in its wanderings through the empty passages.
The mad prince vanished somewhere, leaving even his sword behind, and I, for myself, have no business in these mountains. Why, then, shouldn’t I simply gather the few things I have and go home? It would, without doubt, be the smartest thing I can do. Every other possibility could prove fatal. I owe nothing to Orin. I followed him because of curiosity, or something similar. Now that he’s gone, it would really be best for me to return. It would be reasonable thing to do. But, I’m still going on. I am not able to listen to my reason, but rather, my will is directed by something else, something I don’t understand. I sense I must find that fool and help him to survive his stupid quest for something that probably even doesn’t exist. What’s driving him to abandon all the comfort of living at the court and risk his life for nothing? And maybe somebody did write our destinies, and we are only following the roads which were inscribed before? Why? Where is the meaning?
The current of Arios’ thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the ending of the maze. On this side, the plateau was lightly descending into a narrow valley, encircled by steep cliffs - a landscape he was already used to. On the other side, the valley was narrowing even more, until all that was left of it was a gorge, which led beyond, into the unknown. In the middle of the valley there stood a monastery, surrounded with a high wall of stone – a gloomy, grey building which upset the natural harmony of the surrounding rocks.
“Lo!” said Arios to himself, “people at last. And it seems to me I might get an answer to some of my questions. For example, where did Orin ar den Raamternan disappear?”
He pulled the animal by the reins and started slowly toward the valley.
The high gates were widely open. People dressed in many-coloured cloaks were following their businesses, moving with dignity, without a word, without turning to look around. Even those occupied with mere daily activities, like carrying the jugs with water or herding goats and little mountain cows to the pasture, were behaving like all their movements were strictly prescribed by some majestic scheme. Arios had a strong impression they were all dancing some ancient dance, to the music that only their ears could hear.
Some of them noticed the newcomer, but they showed not a little bit of curiosity or desire to make a contact with him. After several failed attempts to address people passing by, Arios decided simply to enter their town and wait until someone noticed him.
These men are behaving like they know something which makes them worthier than common mortals, he thought ironically, smiling to himself. In fact, it isn’t anything unusual. Actually, almost all of us behave that way sometimes.
At the central square stood a tall dark grey granite monolith, casting long shadow toward western wall. He seated himself down by its base, determined to wait. Sooner or later, someone will approach him.
The sect to whom these people belonged was utterly unknown to him, but it was not anything unusual - few people in the Plain Countries and on the hillsides of the Blue Mountains knew what forms life can take, there beyond the impassable cliffs. Besides, Arios didn’t have a great sympathy for the sects. People who see only high ideals are usually blind for the real world surrounding them. But, then, who was ever able to tell which world is more real?
“Unconverted strangers usually do not have the right to enter the monastery,” said a voice behind him, interrupting his thoughts.
“But here are so few of the unconverted strangers that nobody remembers that rule.”
Arios turned toward the speaker. A man in white cloak was standing before him, middle aged, with shaven head and expressionless face.
“I wasn’t acquainted with your ways and I beg your forgiveness,” said he diplomatically. “I have come from afar, and would like to talk to someone.”
“In this place conversation hasn’t any significance,”, the man said. “We don’t have much to say.”
“I’m interested in only one thing,” continued the sorcerer. “Namely, I came here with a companion. Last evening I had a companion with me, which disappeared this morning, up there in the green temple. What interests me is, did he come this way? And with whom? I do believe that his disappearance wasn’t completely an act of free will.”
The man was looking at him carefully, a few moments longer than politeness would permit.
“Come with me,” said he finally, “maybe we will have something to talk about.”
Arios stood up and slowly followed the man to the building which was probably the shrine.
“Do you know what this place you wandered into is?” said the man in white.
“No,” answered Arios sincerely. They ascended into the temple by a broad stairway build of black granite.
“We don’t have any special name for ourselves, though the people across the mountain” - he pointed north “call us the Living dead. Common folk, not understanding anything outside their narrow frame. The ones, who in the moment of enlightenment come here to find out the Final Secret and defeat Death, are rare. You see, the green temple, as you call it, is a strange place. Many of us, travelling this wilderness for various reasons, right there have had an insight in the meaning and purpose of life. This place has been founded long ago by the first follower of our way...”
“Wait a moment,” Arios carelessly interrupted the speech, “are you trying to say that anyone who enters the green temple becomes one of your sect?”
“Of course not” The man looked at him, his smile superior. “You were there also, haven’t you?”
“It is true. I haven’t noticed anything...”
“Your friend is a man of great aspiration. Only those whose inner tension and desire for knowledge is strong enough can be enlightened. I haven’t seen any newcomers since morning, but it’s possible he is in one of the chambers for initiation. Anyway, you’re searching in vain. He has chosen his way.”
“His way was different until yesterday,” said Arios.
“He gained enlightenment! You don’t understand anything, peasant!” A weird fire sparkled in the man’s eyes. “Go away, and leave the consecrated to search for the way of confronting the Death!”
“I am sorry, “said Arios, “and I will leave.”
But not before I have a word with that fool, he thought.
The man looked at him scornfully and walked away, his head high.
Finding the missing companion was not an easy job. Most of the doors were closed to him, and men, although they didn’t chase him away, didn’t show a bit of desire to help him. He spent the whole day wandering through the monastery, searching in vain for the hidden places in hope he would find Orin in one of them; in the evening, seeing that no one bothers him, he unfolded his blankets in front of the monolith on the square, and lay down to sleep.
Still, it was not meant for sorcerer to have a peaceful sleep that night.
Many people in their time have experienced some events which indicated that something carefully rules over their lives, and that things which seemed sometimes just lucky or unlucky coincidences were in fact a part of a complex mosaic which represents organization of the world.
So it happened that Arios came in the monastery just in time when one of the consecrated had reached the moment of his revelation and chose the way he will confront death. The ritual took place that very night, and if Arios by some chance had missed it, Orin would probably have to stay in the sect for the rest of his days.
Quiet footsteps of the crowd tapped through his dream for some time, until he realized he was not asleep any more, and that long line of people is really passing around him. He stood up, wide awake now, watching what was happening on the square. The crowd of the consecrated gathered around the stairway of the temple. The population of the monastery was much more numerous than it seemed in the daytime.
The sound of the footsteps was replaced by solemn, ghostly silence and the sense of tensed expectation. After a few minutes of dramatic pause, from the temple emerged a figure of a priest dressed in black robes, and lifted his arms theatrically. Then he uttered a few deep sounds in an unknown language. The crowd answered with quiet murmur.
From the right side appeared a man in white; from the left, three men, the middle one carrying an enormous cutlass, whose blade glittered in the ghostly radiance of the moonshine, occasionally throwing light on some mesmerized face in the crowd.
The priest in black robes disappeared from the scene, and two attendants of the man with the cutlass took the arms of the man clothed in white, spreading them. The cutlass suddenly came to life in the hands of the executioner, and described a wide arc of light in the dark.
A single, rapid stroke, and one arm was severed from the body. The man was standing still, his head raised in the defiance of death, screaming unintelligibly the words of an ancient ritual. It seemed he felt neither pain nor fear.
Stroke, and there went the other arm. Stroke, and the head was rolling on the floor. The dreadful silence filled the crowd.
The man with the cutlass didn’t stop even when body without sparkle of life dropped down on the stone floor.
The cutlass craves blood, a thought darted through Arios’ mind, leaving a sense of deep uneasiness. He knew the ways and rituals of many schools of magic too well not to recognize a force beyond the human mind at work here, a force which imposed itself, creating a false sense of freedom in its followers. Feeding, probably, on their blood.
When the bloody scene was over, the crowd started to move slowly, rhythmically, muttering the words of a prayer in a ghostly trance.
Arios returned to his place under the monolith. Nobody paid any attention to him, and that was good. He lay down on the blanket and tried to fall asleep again. However, as soon as he closed his eyes, the horrible event started to unfold before his mind-eye. The blood drummed in his ears, and the comfort of the dream would not come. He fell asleep just before dawn, when the fatigue finally won over the troubled mind.
The next morning, the square radiated with joy. Last night’s catharsis obviously did good to the followers of the strange sect, whose purpose seemingly was to confront the death fearlessly, in that way prevailing over it and gaining, as they believed, the ultimate power.
The sky was clear, and the sun was rising over the jagged cliffs.
When he came awake, the sorcerer forced himself to eat some of the dried meat from his provisions. Then he sat on the ground, leaning on the stone monolith with his back. If all the doors of the temple were closed to him, he’ll try to find the prince by means of magic. He closed his eyes. In his mind, he quickly uttered a short spell which helped the spirit to separate from the body for a while and to move through both the physical and the other world, without obstacles. Arios didn’t like this spell - it was quite dangerous, and in the areas beyond the physical world many a brave explorer has met a bitter end by unknown horrors. There were too many stories about great sorcerers who went too far, for Arios to feel at ease following their steps. But, he was only going to find his companion and to return back, to the known world.
His consciousness suddenly surged upward. He was floating over the black stone, watching the movement in the monastery, and straight below, his unmoving body, which no one noticed.
He was disturbed by the sight - it was not a pleasant experience to watch one’s own body from this point of view. He went further, in the inner part of the temple, shaping prince’s name in his mind, calling him and hoping he will be able to hear the call, wherever he may be.
Indeed, from some direction there was an answer, faint at first, then stronger - Arios? - Who - how - where am I - don’t bother me... It’s him, the sorcerer knew, but his mind is darkened.
He went in the direction the unintelligible answer came from.
The next moment, his spirit was floating through the underground passages which interwove the space below the monastery. There was complete darkness, so intense that he couldn’t tell for sure whether he is still in the physical world, or somewhere else.
Suddenly, he felt a presence in the darkness, a presence of something else, stronger, enormous, which moved toward him. Orin’s voice was completely drowned in this entity, powerful and full of rage. “Infidel!” - The thought clasped Arios’ consciousness like dragon’s jaw. “An infidel in the very heart of my world!” - the dreadful presence was roaring. The greenish li
ght enveloped the sorcerer’s soul, threatening to rip him apart and devour him. Arios dashed back in panic, disappearing from the physical world, hoping the horror would stop following him.
He didn’t know any more where he was. Everything around him looked ethereal and blurred, like a dream. He was surrounded with white clouds and freckles of the blue sky. There were thoughts from outside in his head again, but this time somehow brighter. “Come, search for us... we are waiting... we always wait...”
“Who is it? Who calls me?” His thought flied away to the void, but there was no answer. He hurried back, downward. In the next moment, he was in his own body again, which lay on the ground, contorted under blows. The peaceful dwellers of the monastery were beating him. “Infidel!” the crowd was howling, “Infidel! Death!”
It was impossible to resist them. They grabbed him, half-conscious, and dragged, dragged him a long time on the stony ground, until he sank in the darkness again.
“Arios!”
The prince of the Plain Countries suddenly came awake. His body was dripping with sweat. He was dressed in a white linen tunic, soiled with the dirt in which he lay. The strange dream he was having was abruptly interrupted. In the dream, he was invited to discover the secret of the ultimate power, which he will gain if he succeed to scorn the Death and to laugh in its face. He came to the place which many visited, in the hope that the secret will be revealed to them, the secret only the most daring can learn; he came to the place where many died challenging the Death, showing that they are stronger. He was closed in some dark and cold place until his mind was clear from all the mundane issues and prepared for the waiting time, in which the consecrated gather their strength to make a final act and boldly face the Death.
He was sitting in the darkness quietly, slowly forgetting his earlier life, when he heard a call from the distance. The voice was familiar, and it had a peculiar sound, which brought him awake. Or maybe his weary mind fell asleep now, and he was awake before? No, he said to himself, I am Orin ar den Raamternan, the prince of the Plain Countries, and I had a weird dream. But Arios’ call is reality, and I’ve got to find him. He was frightened.
He tried to rise, but lost his balance for a moment and fell on the ground. This finally roused him. What am I doing here really? he asked himself trying to find way out from the darkness. He ran out from the chamber into the long corridor, lightened by the torch on the wall. He started to run in one direction, reached the end of the corridor, returned the same way, and wandered for a while until he found the exit from the underground – a narrow stairway which he followed up; in a short while he found himself standing under the dome of the temple, blinking in the light too intense for his eyes.
On the right side of the entrance stood a man in white.
“Who are you?” asked Orin. “Where am I?”
The man looked him calmly, and then went out wordlessly.
The prince hurried after him. The man was standing on the stairway, saying something to the crowd which started to gather around him. Orin regretted not having any weapon. “Where is my sword? And where is the sorcerer? He would know what to do.”
The crowd, however, didn’t left him much choice. In a few moments he was surrounded and grabbed by many arms. The prince of the Plain Countries was a rather strong man. There was not a man in the crowd who was his match, but their strength was in numbers. Besides, Orin’s limbs were still stiffened from the long sleep. He tried to shove aside his captors, knocking down several men, but this didn’t accomplish anything. He attempted to wrest from them more strongly, and then somebody slammed him in the head, and the world disappeared in the flash of light.
He regained consciousness later, lying on the ground of the chamber which stank of mould and excrement. Near the top of the wall, facing the door, there was a small opening through which shone a ray of daylight. His eyes needed some time to adjust to the half-darkness. In the corner of the cell, an unmoving body was laying.
“Sorcerer!” he said to himself.
“He’s here too!” It was a comforting thought in this horrible situation.
Bending close, he checked if the man is still breathing. After he assured himself Arios is alive, he tried to wake him, shaking and slapping him on the face, but his efforts were useless. The sorcerer was breathing, but otherwise he looked like a dead man.
The prince of the Plain Countries sat down on the stinking, cold ground, leaned on the wall and tried to figure out what happened.
The time passed by, unbelievably slow. The ray of sunlight was fading. When the darkness closed completely around him, Orin was still sitting. He barely felt his stiffened body, or hunger, or stench. Death was the most probable outcome of this story, he was rather sure of it. He escaped dying several times, thanks to his luck, and help from the man who was lying beside him. But, the sorcerer was defeated now, and obviously didn’t have enough strength to return from the unconscious state he was in.
He was probably going to end up like a sacrifice in some demonic ritual, or they would be forgotten and left rotting in this pit. He was filled with the fear of death, which hampered any meaningful thinking. He could not think of a way to change their situation. The doors of the cell were tough, resisting, the walls were made of stone, and the opening the size of a rat’s hole. Escape was impossible. The only thing he could do was to wait and hope he will not lose his mind.
Finally, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke, the ray of sunlight was in its place again, lightening the dark cell. He felt weak, although his mind was a little clearer. He tried to wake the sorcerer again, with same result as before. After that he searched the room, every part of the floor, just to gain control over himself and the feeling he could still do something.
This is, in fact, ridiculous, he thought. I went on a journey to acquire the ultimate power over the world, and now here I am, crawling in this pit like a rat. But, rats have greater power than me. They can survive and be happy with this way of living. Back home, I was a prince, and all my whims were obeyed. But no, this was not enough for Orin, he wanted something more. Only the world is a little different when you’re not a prince, but a rat feeding on human waste. Failure to accomplish the task I’ve set for myself obviously means only death. If so much was at stake, what then would be the reward? It seems I will not find out.
The man who in his whole life didn’t need to think, tried in this way, following incoherent course of thoughts, to keep his common sense; another day in the darkness passed slowly, like eternity. In the evening, the door suddenly opened. Somebody’s hand pushed in a dish with gruel and a slice of bread.
“Wait!” shouted the prince and jumped to grab the man, but he disappeared immediately, slamming the door.
The prince crashed into the door several times, realizing the moment after the stupidity of his behaviour. Then he took the dish with the gruel and sniffed suspiciously. It smelled like something edible.
The sorcerer in his condition wouldn’t need the food anyway, thought he, gulping the content of the dish. Only then he realized how hungry he was.
Maybe they won’t forget us after all. He was trying to find some comfort. At the end of the second day, any kind of death looked to him more appealing than the vision of the life under the ground. He didn’t want to think about the time he would have to spend in this cell.
The third day came, and he realized he was sick. His whole body was shivering, and at the same time he was bathing in sweat. The feeling of dizziness disabled almost any movement.
This must be the end, without doubt, was the only clear thought which was left to him. He didn’t feel the fear anymore; he was too weak for that.
For the next two days (or maybe it was three, he was not sure anymore), he forced himself somehow to crawl to the door and take the dish with the food. It took him an enormous effort to swallow every mouthful of the gruel, but he knew it was his only chance to stay alive for just a little longer. And the will for life, despite
everything, hadn’t left him yet. So it is with the human nature, that at the very doorway of the death a man still hopes he will be spared of the journey to the unknown, although he knows that no one before has been shown such mercy.
The prince of the Plain Countries, however, did not reach the end of his time yet. After a few days spent in the nightmarish half-dream, the illness suddenly surrendered. His organism, although exhausted, was still strong enough to heal itself. Orin’s sense came back, and he was again able to think about hopelessness of his situation.
And then, in a moment near the end of the day, when the last ray of the sunshine was ready to leave the cold cell, Arios opened his eyes.
“Where am I?” asked he in a weak voice, sounding like it came from the other side of death.
The prince was staring for a few moments in surprise, not believing his ears. He tried to stand up, but the dizziness held him back. “You are alive, cursed warlock!” His voice sounded strange after the long silence. “You were asleep while I was dying!”
He crawled to the sorcerer, who was lying on his back.
“I was deathly ill, I almost got crazy in this hole, and you were asleep the whole time!” Orin didn’t want to show how much relief he sensed with the sorcerer’s coming back to life, but the sound of his voice was telling something different than his words. He was not alone any more!
Arios tried to lift himself on his elbows, but his hands couldn’t hold him up.
“I’m back,” he stated. “Everything’s all right now.”
“Nothing’s all right, you fool!” shouted Orin as loud as his voice permitted him. “We are closed in the basement and probably are going to be killed soon, if they don’t forget us before. In any case, we are finished!”
The sorcerer’s glance, however, was calm. “They forgot us,” he said. “Now we only have to get out of here.”
“You seem to know more than me, warlock” said the prince sardonically. “A moment ago you wake up, and already you sound like you are in control of the situation.”
“I’m not,” said Arios shortly. “Help me to stand up, if you can.”
With effort, two men stood up on their feet.
“My legs won’t hold me”, said the sorcerer, faltering. “We must get out of here quickly, or we’re really in danger.”
“You seem to forget we’re still in a locked cell. Or you’re still asleep?” said Orin. Arios confused him, like always.
“I would be a poor sorcerer if one rotten door could hold me,” stated Arios, waving lightly. The door opened, with the lock loudly breaking.
“Let’s go.”
“Some day you would have to explain me what’s really going on here.” Orin was rather confused.
“As soon as we reach a good distance from this place. But I don’t understand everything, either.”
“Is it possible?” said prince to himself while they staggered into the dark hallway.
Utterly impossible as it seemed to be, the two friends were almost invisible for the inhabitants of the monastery. People were getting out of their way, looking in another direction, acting like they didn’t exist. Arios was silent while they searched for their pack animal with their supplies and equipment. Without any interference, they found and picked up everything they left, and, leaning against strong back of the animal, staggered out of the monastery’s yard, northward. High peaks were before them, peaks they needed to cross.
“We must get a good rest before continuing our journey,” concluded the prince. “Crossing these mountains will be quite a task.”
They found a rather comfortable shelter under a cliff, and encamped there. Arios dug out some roots from the ground, and from their juices he made a healing potion which restored their strength, at least to some degree. “We’ll stay here for a few days,” said he, looking at the distant walls of the monastery. “We’re far enough.”
The prince burned with desire to know how this unbelievable turn of events came to pass, but he learned until now not to rush. Arios still was not willing to talk. He was obviously burdened with whatever happened back there, lost in his thoughts, with only few moments of attention for his companion. Most of the time they spent gathering strength for the crossing of the peaks, he sat on the rock, observed the valley and kept silent.
Orin, on the other hand, went hunting, trying successfully to get his thoughts off the things that bothered him. He found watering place of the mountain goats, a swift stream which, because of the configuration of the ground, expanded in one place to form a small lake. He needed only to wait until the evening, when the animals descended from the higher slopes where they searched for the sweetest grass. Mountain goats weren’t really smart animals. First day, he succeeded to bring two down with his arrows before the rest realized something’s wrong and scattered in fear. It was obvious they haven’t had many encounters with human beings. After two days of successful hunt and four killed goats, whose meat was already drying on the cool mountain air, the animals stayed in the safety of their narrow paths. But, Orin was content, because they had meat for at least a month. He was completely healed and yearned for action again.