Chapter V:
The Usurper of Peiraso
Chastisement
Revere traveled swiftly over the plains of Falnor, which lay between the Falsi River and the Libron. At first he kept off the main road, but as he made his way east toward Daevaron and away from Noras he used less caution and even, at times, walked along the road openly. It had been eighteen days since he had 'warned' Cheft Faros about the Conjurer, and he had spent almost every waking moment of that time on the road, putting as much distance between him and the 'doomed band of fools' as he was able. He was a skillful traveler and he came a long way in a short space of time. He passed through the Bridge Town of Belnan within two days of his interview and was now traveling northeast along the Old Noras Highway which after passing the Libron River and continuing east for some seventy leagues or so turned abruptly toward the north, following the coast of the Great Lake Gaenorin toward the city of Daeva.
When he was young, Revere always dreamed of being in command of an army. But as he grew older he came to discover that he was not gifted with any of those things that make a man a Captain. He felt he was too soft-spoken to shout out orders, and not proficient enough a warrior himself to be responsible for the safety of others. The chief obstacle, however, lay in the fact that the path to the top begins at the bottom. He who would command must first learn to serve; and Revere could never quite content himself with the idea of obedience. He might very well do as someone told him. But that by itself does not constitute obedience. The truly obedient servant must obey even when his own will is set against what must be done.
Instead of the glory of command he settled for a subtler form of power. Those who are gifted with confidence and skill are always the favorites of the world. The heroes, the gods, the warlords and kings are always accompanied by the thunder of praise and the worship and adulation of fools. Revere detested this. And so he spent every last fragment of his efforts to undermine these sorts of men through riddles and cunning words. It made no difference to him whether they were good men or bad, or whether they deserved their honors or not; the fall of someone who was the beloved of the 'simple', as he called everyone he disliked, was his only true reward.
He had from an early age perfected the art of making a fool out of people. He did this for himself, and seldom for the sake of anyone else. It mattered very little to him whether or not they even realized that he was mocking them, all that mattered is that in his own peculiar way he was able to demonstrate his superiority - or at least the inferiority of the man to the grandeur of his reputation.
Take his conversation with Cheft Faros as an example: It was wholly unimportant to Revere that Cheft Faros or any other soul ever realized that he had in fact made a mockery of the famed Commander. All that was important was that when Revere walked away from the interview he had found some way to convince himself that the 'hero' was an impostor, and all was lost to Noras because this 'blunderer' was too pompous and simple to string together the information his scout had provided him with and come to the realization that the threat they faced was beyond the capabilities of the Galva Army. What would come of the people in the army was not his concern, after all, he had done his part, he thought.
'It would have been more insulting to the famed commander had I spelled out the dangers like a schoolmaster teaches a child.'
The actual consequences of Revere's word games had never really concerned him. Mostly because he very rarely had to witness the distress and dishonor his subtleties caused, but even what mischief he had to observe did not bother him so long as he was able to attribute the trouble to the foolishness of his rivals.
As cruel as it may sound, however, I must confess that I believe that Revere is far from alone in his sad desire to see the ruin of his supposed betters. That is perhaps why it has been said that it is the friend who cheers for your success that is true, and not the friend who mourns your losses. It takes character and humility to be glad in the success and glory of another man, but only natural pity to be sad in their distress. Moreover, in good fortune there is something to be envied; he who can resist this temptation and truly rejoice for a friend - he is the true friend.
By the time Revere came within sight of the Solibree Bridge he had washed from his thoughts completely the dangers facing the Galva Army. He was able to make himself quite impervious to sympathy so long as he was able to attach to these men some appellation of disdain, however trivial it might be. It was enough for him to know that all the young men in the Galva Army were 'blind dogs on the leash of a blind man.' As though each man should be as shrewd as he and have eyes as keen.
His intention was to make his way to Daeva City and live in ease by the lake, at least for a while. Perhaps he would leave that country also; when the winter returns again he could sail to Kollun and then to wherever his fancy carried him. So long as he didn't need to be bothered by these 'Square-headed Norasmen' he would be content.
Revere himself was not of Noras blood, nor of Knarse blood like the Daevaron. His parents had come to Weldera from the dark and infamous city of Lapulia, which lays far to the east, 'On the other side of the world,' it seemed to him. Revere was born and educated in Dadron, but his heart always longed to leave Weldera and cross the seas to his parents' homeland.
The Solibree Bridge was a large stone bridge built by the founders of Dadron. It was meant to carry large quantities of supplies and merchandise from Lake Gaenorin across the Libron River and then on toward Belnan. There were several large villages and settlements built along the River in this region. Enormous farms were fenced off from the road here by crude and crumbling wooden fences. The road itself passed over the Libron in the northern section of the town of Soli, which was built up on both sides of the small lake that formed several leagues south of the bridge. Here Revere would have to stop, for his supplies were beginning to run out. A wise traveler would have filled his sacks in Belnan before setting out for Daeva, but he was in too great a hurry. It was not only the Conjurer and the foolish Cheftan that drove him eastward away from the forest.
Revere was expected to appear at the Council of Noras in Peiraso by the fifteenth day of Leonius at the very latest. Now there lay between he and his employer over a hundred leagues, and he was already three days late.
'Half-pay is sufficient,' Revere thought to himself as he stepped over the old bridge. 'The poor fool should save his gold, for no Council can save his army now. And it will do him no good hear the sorry news from me. He will learn soon enough what little hope he has.'
When he entered the center of town, Revere noticed immediately that there was a considerable number of tall, strong-looking Noras lurking about. 'Nearly twenty, if my eyes can still count,' he whispered under his breath. He skillfully avoided their eyes. Revere was the sort of man who was clever enough to make himself nearly invisible when he wanted to.
He eluded their eyes for some time by passing behind the houses and shops, making his way toward the grocer without drawing any attention. He approached the seller and made his request. He asked for several pounds of dried meat and some fresh loaves of bread and some cheese. As he waited for the grocer to return with his bundle he looked up into the blue skies above him. High above the ground he could see the dark shape of a soaring eagle. Something about the great bird unsettled him.
After he paid for his supplies he slipped around the shop and left the main road. He walked out into open fields of tall grass and made his way north and east, back in the direction of the road.
Suddenly he heard the shrill screech of an eagle over his head. The eagle he saw before was flying very low to the ground and swooped down so close to Revere's head that he was startled for a moment and ducked his head low with a jerk. The eagle rose up into the sky and vanished over the western horizon.
'Do not fear the talons of Maru,' a voice said from somewhere on his left. 'There are mightier talons in Tel Arie than even his. And there are talons with a firmer grip.'
Revere looked around with
frustration, but he could see no one. 'Who are you?' Revere demanded. Something about the voice seemed familiar; it seemed to him as though he were hearing the words of a familiar song but with a new melody. 'Do I know you?'
'You are not as clever a scout as they say,' the voice laughed.
'Will you continue making a mockery of me, or will you show yourself. I do not take kindly to ridicule.'
'And I do not take kindly to treachery, Revere,' the voice said. Revere's heart dropped at the sound of his own name. The grass rustled and out stepped a man of Noras. Revere would have thought him to be a Cheftan were it not for his youth. Yet despite his appearance there was something like wisdom in his eyes and in his speech.
'You are a shrewd man to outwit Revere,' Revere said with a bow. 'Now may I have the pleasure of your name? It is not every day that one meets his better.' He clenched his teeth as he spoke.
'I am Dynamis,' he boomed. Revere could scarcely stop himself from shaking with fear. For there was perhaps not a soul in Noras or in Daevaron who had not heard of this Noras hero.
'D-Dynamis?' Revere stammered. The man looked every bit a hero. He was tall enough to be of Knarse blood, but his strong frame was unmistakably Noras. He was dressed all in brown, with a deep green cloak wrapped about his shoulders. For a full minute Revere could say nothing. His tongue was stopped and his heart pounded in his ears, waiting for the hero to speak.
'We have wasted enough time,' Dynamis said at last. 'Shall I kill you here, or shall I drag you on to Peiraso for judgment? That is all there really is to decide.' Revere said nothing but just stepped back. He reached for his dagger but Dynamis swung his sword and knocked it from his hand with such speed and strength that Revere did not even see the blade in motion. Dynamis continued, 'You have shamed your employer, who so kindly rewarded you with half your pay in advance. It has been twelve days since you were expected at Peiraso, and here you are in Soli. What have you to say? Has the master scout, who commended his services to Cheft Biron with so much self-praise, become so lost that he will travel for so many days in the wrong direction before he rights his course?'
Through all of this Revere said nothing, nor could he. He was beaten in his own game and there was nothing left but to endure this ridicule.
'But perhaps I may find some reason to spare you,' Dynamis said thoughtfully. 'Yes, I think there is something that you can do.'
'What does my lord require,' Revere said, forcing good manners.
'The Cheftan's son fights upon the mountain against a foe the army did not expect; that much is correct I assume?'
'Indeed. There is a Conjurer upon those hills, or my word is without worth.'
'Your word is without worth to be sure, though this is true whether there be a Conjurer or not,' Dynamis snapped. 'If you want to save your life, then lead me to the Galva army.'
'But I know not where they are,' Revere said.
'No matter,' Dynamis said as he drew his sword once again. As it left its iron scabbard the metal groaned as though it hungered for blood. 'I am no mean scout myself; I imagine I will have little trouble finding the warriors and their enemies without you.'
'No,' Revere said as he put his hands above his face, 'I will take you, for I know those mountains well. But I cannot promise that you will find anyone still living among the Galva army, if my fears are correct and there is indeed a Conjurer at work.'
'The only fear you seem to know is the thought of your own blood,' Dynamis said with a look of disdain. 'But you will learn to fear more than blood ere I am through with you. And promise nothing; it is only the Master of Causes that can promise without dishonesty or foolishness.'
With these words, and many further insults, Dynamis led Revere to his companions. A horse was prepared and he was given a sword.
'You would give me a sword?' Revere laughed.
'I do not fear your blade,' Dynamis laughed. 'But you should fear to be without it. A hunter's knife will bring you to a swift end on the battlefield.'
Revere looked uneasy. He had been trained to fight, but aside from his exercises he had never actually made use of his abilities.
'Fear not, Revere, stay near us and keep to the back. We will not let you come to harm so long as you are useful to us. But until I judge your debt repaid you will do as I say. I have little patience with deceivers and covenant-breakers.'
The Fall of Peiraso
Maru the eagle had flown the hundred leagues from Soli to Peiraso in one day, stopping only once to fall upon some hapless rabbit in the middle of the night and refresh himself with a well earned meal. He came to the edge of the Noras forest where the trees rose high into the air and guarded the ground from his eyes. These he passed quickly and came to the hill of Peiraso, where Cheft Biron's estate stood. From high above the ground he began circling slowly about, gently descending with every swoop. His keen eyes spotted the window of Cheft Biron and the post on which he would land.
Maru cried loudly as he gently set his talons on the tip of the post and came to the end of his journey. The great bird set about adjusting his feathers and peering warily about the estate. Cheft Biron was not in his room yet, but there was another there to greet him.
'Maru!' Lord Pelas said in a commanding tone. 'Have you done that which I have asked of you?'
Maru looked at him for a moment and then spoke in a clear and bold voice. 'I have flown the coasts of Weldera from north to south and peered through every window in Daevaron, yet I have seen no trace of the one whom you seek.'
'You must not forsake the search, Maru,' Pelas pleaded. 'Fate has decided that he is the only one who can bring justice to the mad Cheftan.'
'Fate has decided?' Maru replied. 'If it is so fated, then you have nothing to fear, the man will appear at the hour appointed to him. Why do you trouble my wings with this request? Are you uncertain of Fate or of your own prophecies?'
'Fate must come, great Maru,' Pelas said, 'But how it will come is not for you to decide. What you must decide is whether you will be the one to bring it about or the one who is swept away by it.'
'Very well,' the great eagle bowed, 'I will continue the search, as soon as I am able. But I serve the god of meat before I serve the god of Falsis! And as long as it is the Cheftan of the Galvahirne that gives me salted meat and other fine foods I will give his commands the preference.'
'You must do as you will. But remember that there are things more important than meat.'
'If there are such things then time and care have erased them from thought and I have altogether forgotten them.'
With those words Pelas vanished and left the eagle alone. Maru once again turned his sharp eyes away from the room to the surrounding estate.
There were a great many people from all over the forest gathered at Peiraso. These people had mainly come from Vivlir-la, Megd-la and Coran-la, where the threat of the goblins seemed the greatest. Cheft Biron had made many efforts to provide shelter and provision for them. Despite Cheft Ponteris' criticism Biron insisted that it would be, 'folly to neglect them. For when danger arises it is not the Cheftans' strength that saves the people. It is the blood of the common man that preserves the Cheftan from his enemies, however clever a Cheftan he may be.'
It was not long before Cheft Biron returned to his room and, seeing the eagle, threw open his window. He fed the great eagle some dried meat, which the bird ate with pleasure. Then he stroked the bird's feathers and praised him, 'Faithful Maru, ever have your ancestors served this household, and I hold you in esteem above all your forefathers.' The bird let out a gentle cry and lifted his talon from the post. Tied to his right ankle was a small leather pouch. Within the pouch Cheft Biron found a letter with the seal of Dynamis.
It was now the nineteenth day of Leonius. The Cheftans had all but departed except for Ponteris and several other important Cheftans. There remained Cheft Daevin and Horan also and Cheft Grendas Cossirne, who was a kinsman of the Lady Marima.
Cheft Biron grew weary of these straggling guests and
locked himself away in his chambers for most of the daytime hours and rarely appeared at the evening meals. These he would have brought to him by servants or by his wife. But it was clear that he wished to have no further conversation with the other Cheftans.
His mind was greatly troubled for his son. He had been expecting Revere to bring him news of the goblins by the sixth day of Leonius. His absence made it impossible to persuade the Council of Noras to lend his army any support, as they were permitted to linger in their belief that the goblins upon the mountain were not significant enough of a threat to justify a larger commitment of warriors. They laughed and gave him token words of encouragement, but in his heart he felt certain that something had gone awry. Revere's absence made this feeling even heavier. For if so clever a scout should not escape the perils of the mountain, there must be more than simple hungry raiders at large in the cliffs. And then what would become of his son?
Fear and uncertainty began to take its toll on him and he grew tired and sickly, rarely even leaving his own bedroom. The letter of Dynamis brought his anxiety to a boiling point and he found himself overcome with fear and worry. The letter was written hastily, though with a firm and careful hand. It read:
'To the mighty lord of the sons of Galvahir who rules by right in Peiraso of Galva-la.
'I write this message by the dawn's rosy light on the morning of the eighteenth day of Leonius. The great eagle found me just west of Solibree in Daevaron. I was making haste to return to you, when I received your summons. Now I am of a mind to leave my company behind and rush back to Peiraso faster yet. Maru has found your missing scout some ways to the west of us; we will undoubtedly have him by this afternoon. Clever as he may be, he is no son of Galvahir, and he will not escape our net.
'As for my mission, I must report with a heavy heart that your fears have once more proved true. There is a great mustering of strength in the eastern world, and the old Malvirne city of Dalta is teeming with fighting men. The coasts of Olgrost are now so fortified that it seems only to be a matter of time before they must burst from their shores and seek to plunder other lands. Daevaron is quaking, and the senators of Kollun are wagging their forked tongues in debate. A smell of war is in the eastern air. But we will speak more of this when I arrive.
One last grave piece of news: You cannot trust Cheftan Oastirne. There have been many strange men passing through Daevaron from Olgrost and Kollun. Under the guise of brigands we waylaid some of them and by many means we drew from them the details of their business. More than ten of them were servants of Ponteris, and there were many more that we did not stop or search; for we did not want to draw any more attention to ourselves than was necessary. We have also heard rumors that the Cheftan himself has visited the Eastern continent, though these reports cannot be taken without suspicion.
'I hope to see beautiful Peiraso soon. Until then, may the mighty Master of Causes see fit to bring you honor and health.
'Your faithful servant, Dynamis'
The Cheftan sat for a long while staring at the letters and considering their meaning. 'The shadows which I have feared are all about me now; but now that they are taking shape it is too late for me to stop them.'
He sat there in silence for a long time, Maru went about adjusting his feathers again. The sun passed over the mountains far to the west and night crept over the land.
Lady Marima brought his dinner to him in his own room that evening. Ailai, one of her servants, carried a pitcher of water and a washing bowl, while Lady Marima carried a tray of hot food, still steaming from beneath wooden lids. They entered the room to find the Cheftan slumped over a chair, weeping.
'Stay, Ailai,' Marima whispered as she entered the room.
The Cheftan's room was not overly large, but it was the best room in the house. His bed was in the center of the room, flush against the north wall. It was made of thick logs of dark-stained oak. On every wall there hung the antlers, horns and skins of many different beasts, including the brilliant white fur of a great wolf.
Lady Marima rushed to his side and helped him to his seat. She wiped his tears with her dress and kissed his forehead. 'The window is open, my lord,' she said softly, 'it is not yet the weather for such things. You will get sick.'
'I care not,' he said. 'I have been betrayed,' he groaned. 'Betrayed and humiliated. The shadow presses upon me, but I have not the wisdom to overcome it. I am not Galvahir, and I scarcely deserve to be called his heir.'
'My lord is being too harsh,' she comforted him, 'Now stop this weeping. I have brought you hot food. Ailai is outside the door. Do you wish her to see the great Cheftan Galvahirne in so sorry a state?'
The Cheftan stood up and walked toward his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and spoke with his head hung low. 'I'm sorry,' he groaned as he cradled his head in his hands. 'I am not myself. It is as though a madness has come upon me.'
'Eat, my lord,' she said, 'You will feel stronger in time, but not if you neglect yourself. You are not an old man yet, and as long as you live there is still hope for our son.'
'You speak well, my love,' Biron said as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. 'Happy was the day that we wed, lady Marima Cossirna!'
They embraced. The Cheftan seemed to regain his strength in an instant and he rose from the bed. 'We have much to do. The scout has betrayed me, to my shame. But Dynamis has found him in Soli of all places. The wretch sought to escape my eyes in Daevaron. But he will not escape the son of Galvahir easily. He will pay dearly for his sins. But first I must see what I can do about the goblins of Coronan. I must see if I can save the Galva army from their doom.'
Lady Marima once more pressed him to eat.
'I cannot eat or drink right now, I must think. I will send Maru back to find Dynamis. Perhaps he can rush to Coronan to help the Galvahirne and their allies in the mountains.' Marima gave him a frustrated look. He laughed and said, 'If you do not wish for the food to spoil, then feed it to the animals.'
With that she kissed his cheek and bowed low. She carried the tray of food out the door and down the hall to her own quarters. 'Ailai,' she called, her servant came hurrying to meet her, 'Come, we will not let this good meal spoil.'
The two ladies passed through the door of her chamber and sat down to sup. There was a hearty soup with onions, potatoes and herbs, a slice of bread with a generous pile of butter heaped upon it, and, under the largest lid, a rather sizable cut of roasted venison. They nibbled at the Cheftan's meal as well as they could, but they were both satisfied long before the it was finished.
Ailai rose from her seat and gathered their scraps and dishes into a pile and placed them back on the tray. With a bow and a smile she turned toward the door, preparing to carry the tray down to the servant's kitchen to be washed. Lady Marima leaned back in her chair and rested. She put her hand to her forehead and sighed.
Maru soared high above Peiraso and catching a powerful gust of wind he rose into the heavens and circled around the estate. He turned his eyes eastward toward the town of Soli where he had left Dynamis. It was now dark and he flew under the light of the stars to the east. But as he flew his sharp eyes beheld something moving beneath the cover of the trees on the eastern edge of Peiraso's border.
The great bird circled around, curiously gazing down. His sharp eyes pierced the shadows below and spied a large host moving about in the darkness below. His eyes were as sharp by moonlight as by sunlight and he saw shields and spears glistening under the trees. He screeched and turned in an instant. His body swirled in the wind and he drew in his wings. Suddenly, with a mighty beat of his powerful wings he pushed against the wind and rushed back toward his post at Cheft Biron's window.
Cheft Biron came quickly, for he did not expect the bird to return for at least another two days. 'What is it friend?' he said softly and warily as he opened the window once more. But the eagle leaped from the post and circled above the eastern edge of the forest crying frantically in a shrill voice.
Below Cheft Biron saw the horde
s approaching, no more than two leagues from the walls of Peiraso. 'By Agon!' he cried. 'Maru!' he called loudly, the bird responded immediately. By the time the eagle had landed the Cheftan had already scribbled out a hasty letter and sealed it with his ring. 'To Dynamis!' he ordered, 'Fly, faithful servant of the Galvahirne! May Pelas bless your wings with speed tonight. Fly to Dynamis!'
The unique position of the Galvahirne clans had always been a cause of strife among the Noras. The forest was ruled by the descendants of the Nine Heroes, and there was not supposed to be any one family favored over another. But the fame of Galvahir and the bravery of his sons had elevated them to a position of respect and authority that was not rivaled by any other clan.
There were those within the forest who grew envious and hateful of the Galvahirne; Cheft Ponteris being, secretly, the chief of these. Despite his polite demeanor he was full of bitterness and hatred for the Galvahirne and all those who held them in high regard. In particular he abhorred Cheft Biron, who seemed to him to have, 'fortune in measure above what any mortal deserved'.
Now as the moon rose to its height the treacherous Cheftan made his way through the halls of Peiraso. He knew them very well now, as he had spent the better part of the past month acquainting himself with every corner and passage. In his sweaty hand he held a vial, half-filled with poison.
'Biron will be dead by now,' he said to himself as he passed by the Cheftan's door. 'I have taken your home,' he said to the door, as though he spoke to the Cheftan himself. 'My men will be here within the hour to despoil your precious Peiraso. But they will not have to face your wrath. I have learned much from you, friend, and I know the methods of your cooks and your servants. It is a little thing,' Ponteris said, 'to put a bit of poison on a roast or in a bowl of soup. So much for strength of arms!' he laughed loudly.
At that moment he heard from outside the sound of a great eagle screeching. For some reason this sound seemed to freeze his blood and for a moment his haughtiness left him. 'No time for boasts,' he said to himself. 'The great Cheftan is dead, his son soon to perish among the cold rocks of Coronan. Now I have but one last insult to pay to you, son of Galvahir.'
With those words he turned from the door and walked swiftly but nervously toward the chamber of Lady Marima. 'I have learned this house well,' he whispered, 'But you, lady of Peiraso, have I watched most closely of all.'
He opened the door quickly and shut it behind him. His heart pounded within him nervously and with pangs of both desire and of fear. But as he surveyed the room his heart turned to stone within his chest. For a brief moment he feared he would die of fright. For on the ground at his feet lay the servant girl Ailai with the scraps and dishes of Cheftan Biron's meal scattered about. Beyond her was the Lady Marima, laying still on the ground near the table at which they had dined.
His heart thumped loudly in his own ears as he frantically looked around and paced, as though there was something he might find that could change what had already been done.
'Biron yet breathes!' he said in a broken voice. 'Biron yet breathes!' he rushed from the room and ran down the hall like a frightened hare.
Cheftan Biron had not wasted a moment. Before Ponteris had passed by his chamber, Biron had already made his way out of the house through a secret door (one that Ponteris' snooping had not yet discovered). He rushed out to the peasants and other refugees who had gathered on the lawn of his estate.
'Cheftan!' they hailed him, 'Why such haste?'
'Fly! Fly this moment, for Peiraso is betrayed!' he seemed to them almost mad, but none of them doubted him. 'There is a force of great number marching as we speak from the eastern woods. They come from Lavri-la I have no doubt and they mean to trample into powder all those who are faithful to the house of Galvahir.'
'Where will we go if Peiraso is no haven?' an older man asked. His name was Redwin, and he was of the Coranlirne. 'You have ever been the last hope of Noras.'
'There is no hope in Noras now,' Biron said grimly, 'Fly to Dadron, for they are faithful to my house. Take this, and lead these people on swiftly.' Biron handed Redwin a wooden staff, carved with many runes and set on the top with a brilliant green gem. 'This is the staff of Hiron, my father, show this to the Captain of Dadron and he will give you what help you need.'
'I will lead these people then, if you cannot join us,' Redwin said as he took the staff.
'I cannot abandon the lady Marima,' he said, 'for she is still in the house and I had not the time to fetch her or the servants. But take these blessed people and hurry to Dadron's gates, I send my guard with you and my prayers.'
'Pelas bless you Cheftan,' Redwin said as the two parted. From the western side of Peiraso rode twenty young men in full armor on warhorses. Their chief was named Olver Galvahirne, he was the last kinsman of Cheft Biron, and the heir of Peiraso should the sons of Biron be lost. He was the only son of Biron's sister, and one of the last few Galvahirne who could trace his ancestry back to Galvahir himself. He was tall, like Biron, but not as broad-shouldered. He wore a dark green cloak beneath which gleamed a longsword. Across his back was slung a short javelin.
'Faithful Olver,' Biron said with tears in his eyes as he bid his kinsman farewell. 'I pray that I may see your face again ere my eyes rest in death. You are brave and strong, guard these people and bring them to the gates of Dadron and see to their safety on the road. For the enemies of Galvahir are wandering these woods like jackals and they will not take ransom from these poor souls.'
'I will not fail you uncle,' Olver said. There was a great commotion among the peasants and the people slipped out and rushed into the southern forest under the leadership of Redwin and under the protection of Olver.
Biron rushed back into the house and made his way through the halls toward his chamber. He found his door still shut fast. He turned to go to his wife's chamber and as he ran he met Ponteris fleeing in the opposite direction.
Ponteris stopped in his tracks and his face went pale.
'Your mortal fear betrays you, Cheftan!' Biron said with murder in his voice. 'Where is the lady Marima!' his voice rang through the hall.
'See for yourself,' Ponteris said as he slowly stepped backward.
Biron followed him to the door of her chamber and the two men entered. There he saw the servant girl and his beloved wife laying still and pale on the floor. 'Poisoner!' he thundered and he lifted Ponteris from the ground by his throat. Ponteris gasped and kicked at the mighty lord of the Galvahirne, but he could not so much as bend his fingers.
Just then there came a moan from Marima. Biron dropped Ponteris to the ground where he lay sputtering and gasping, holding his throat. Biron rushed to his wife's side. 'She lives still.' He lifted her from the ground and carried her to her bed.
Cheft Horan and Cheft Gornas made their way swiftly up the stairs when they heard Ponteris fall to the ground. They peered in through the doorway for a moment and then entered.
'What a mess you have caused, Cheft Ponteris,' they complained when they saw the servant girl laying there dead. 'Your appetite has got the best of you once more,' Horan said.
'What is the meaning of this?' Biron insisted.
'It is as you said,' Ponteris said in a hoarse voice. 'You said that one "cannot know whom the gods will make noble; or whom the gods will choose to sit upon a throne and rule over their peers". The Galvahirne have lorded it over the other clans of Noras for too long. And the gods have spoken against you and decreed an end to your blood-born nobility. The arm of Galvahir is broken. In the first battle with the goblins, our scouts tell us, the army of Faros has lost over a thousand men. Our last reports tell us that Cheft Rahm has fallen, along with his two nephews. Tell me, Cheft Biron, is your son more valiant than these? The army is lost and with it the power of the Galvahirne. It is now time for the other clans to rise to their god-ordained seats and to punish the house of Galvahir.'
'Madness!' Biron shouted. He drew his blade from its sheath.
Cheft Horan interrupted him, 'Che
ft Biron, we do not doubt your strength. But do not waste it here. For if we are slain, there will be nothing to stop our comrades from taking your wife from Peiraso and doing with her whatever they wish. Making her a thrall or a servant, or perhaps worse. But if you lay down your blade here we will swear by the gods that she will not be touched, so long as we have life in our blood.'
The Cheftan hesitantly lowered his blade and laid it on the floor at their feet. 'Your word is worth little,' he said, 'and your oaths even less. But the word of frightened liars is perhaps better than the appetites of emboldened devils. You know well that I could end all three of your scheming lives right here and now.' There was such a fire in his eyes as he spoke that they could not bear to look at him long, nor did they doubt the truth of his threat.
Soon Peiraso was overrun by the slobbering hirelings of Cheft Ponteris. They were mostly golden haired Knarsemen from Titalo, though a few of them were of Noras blood. Cheft Biron was locked away in a cellar and placed under the watchful eyes of ten armed men. 'I will consider this mighty guard the highest compliment the foul Cheft Ponteris has ever paid to a mortal man,' Biron said as they shut the door to his cell. There he sat for many long days, hoping and fearing in the darkness.
Cheft Gornas and Cheft Horan were furious with their co-conspirator. 'You are a fool Ponteris! Haven't you enough mistresses in your own decrepit house, that you would risk everything we have worked so long for?'
'Shut your mouths,' Ponteris hollered at them, 'If it weren't for all of my efforts, you would still be cowering in your cold halls and bowing low to the Galvahirne's master. Were it not for happenstance, however, Biron would be dead and there would be nothing for you two to criticize.'
'Nay, fool,' Gornas said. 'We told you plainly and warned you both in our letters and again in person: Touch not the lord of the Galvahir until his sons lie dead. We have heard good reports from the mountains, but we do not yet know the fate of young Daryas, whether he is living or dead. And what of Olver, his nephew? He was here until this very night, and you have let him slip through your fingers.'
'You speak hastily,' Ponteris said calmly. 'You do not know the kind of guarantee I have been given for our victory. The army of Galva will fall in Coronan. This I swear by the gods of heaven. Pelas slay me, and Agon bind my soul in flame if the sons of Biron do not lay dead ere the end of this trial. Is that not sufficient assurance for your troubled minds? And when the sons' blood runs cold, so shall the father's.'
'And then I suppose you will slay the mother also?' Horan said with a look of disgust in his eyes.
'I have other plans for her,' Ponteris smiled. 'I have a great many plans for the house of Peiraso, my friends.'
'This is not what we have discussed for all these long years,' the men complained.
'You knew very well what it would take to dethrone the lord of the Galvahirne, but if you want to reap the harvest you have to put your plough through the dirt. Can you do that without getting a little filth here and there?'