A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 31
This clearly frustrated Bufogu, but he remained silent. Melal chose that moment to come up beside them. "And what about this Sage? Is he everything that was promised, or is he another washed up drunkard?"
"Sage Tuvano is the greatest of his kind." Aganomu gestured about him to the villagers. "Many here can see as he does, but none can see as far. If Tuvano accepts you, then you will learn more. If not, then you will not be allowed to leave."
"You would keep us here?" Bufogu asked, straightening furiously.
Aganomu only chuckled darkly in response.
"It doesn't matter." Melal ignored the tension between them and looked forward to the mountain that rose rapidly ahead. "He will recognize me as the Hero and then I will step forward into the Legend."
Nothing was said to that, for what could be said? Slaten found his eyes wandering toward the steep path ahead. The village sprawled across the hill, but beyond it, a set of stone stairs began ascending a cliff. Looking above, he saw Mount Tmil extend skyward, higher than even these mountains.
He and Melal had been training in the Bloodskin art of breathing, and his strengthened body would surely help the climb. Even so, he found himself wondering how such a climb could be possible. Higher up the mountain he saw no stone stairs, so unless they were hidden...
"What in the blazing hells is all this?"
Everyone turned to find who had spoken. Slaten saw an older girl as she emerged from one of the larger buildings. She appeared a few years before womanhood, yet she regarded them with a cynical expression that would have been at home on a much older woman's face.
"Aganomu, are you playing some game again?"
"This one claims to be the Hero." The master jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Melal, prompting the girl to peer at him. "I can tell that something's different about him, but he's weak. I figured it was for Sage Tuvano to decide."
"Fortunately, he's visiting at the moment." The girl turned around, putting her hands to her mouth to yell. "Grandfather! The Hero is here!" After an uncomfortable pause in which everyone strained to listen for a response, the girl turned back to them with a smile. "Okay, you can see him. I have some tea, so if you wait, I'll make you some."
Though disrupted by this turn of events, the group of raiders began to move toward the house. Abruptly the girl raised one finger to her lips. "Not all of you. Only the Hero... and you, and you." Without the slightest hesitation, she pointed to Slaten and Laeri. Slaten's eyes widened. The two of them were the most obviously foreign within the group, but could she have picked them out some other way?
Chief Bufogu started to object, but Aganomu stepped into his path. The master didn't say a word, but that was all it took. After the Bloodskins backed down, Aganomu grinned at them. "Cheer up, boys, the old man isn't usually very interesting. But we make some good ale, if you're thirsty..."
As he left, Slaten looked back and made eye contact with Natala. Though she clearly wanted to join them, she couldn't go against Aganomu. Instead she followed behind the Bloodskin group, keeping her distance. That left only three of them outside the house with the girl.
"My name is Julapa," she told them. "I help my grandfather whenever I can. I think he'll want to speak to all three of you, so please just follow me."
Though Slaten did so, he found himself glancing over at her. "Why did you choose us?"
"Most lives only meet the Legend once, a brief intersection or a final point. Only those who walk alongside it glow with... uh... fuck." Julapa muttered the words under her breath again as if trying to remember. "My grandfather has many sayings about things and I can't remember them all. But I could see that the two of you are his true companions. Everybody else has to stay outside."
"That's nice, girl." Melal patted her roughly on the head. "Now where is the Sage?"
"Don't get your britches all twisted. Just follow me."
As Julapa led them into the house, Slaten found himself staring at her. Melal was wrong: she was not just a girl. Though he knew he had no right to make such judgments, part of Slaten felt certain that she was a Sage. Judging from the way she spoke, a Sage who had grown up working with a coarse old man. By the time they reached Sage Tuvano, he wasn't sure what to expect.
Most of the house appeared simple and rustic, though of better construction than any in the Bloodskin village. He barely saw it before they were ushered into a darkened room filled by an ornate table of red wood. Across from it sat the Sage himself.
Tuvano appeared to be a very old man, balding but with pure white hair cascading down his shoulders. He wore several simple brown cloths, but Slaten could barely look at them. All his attention was absorbed by the man's presence, focused in piercing blue eyes.
A hush dominated the room and Slaten realized that he was feeling something that he had never experienced except in the Hero's presence. The sense of awe was different, yet he felt a deeper commonality. Perhaps what he felt in both was not an individual's strength, but the Legend itself. His mind struggled with the feelings pressed upon it, leaving Slaten mute as the old man spoke.
"Welcome. I am the Great Sage Tuvano, and th-"
"What are you doing down here?" Melal pushed inward and slammed his hand against the table. "I am supposed to climb to the heights of Mount Tmil for an audience with you. Why are you waiting in a mere house?"
"Do you expect me to sit atop a mountain for decades waiting for you? Don't be absurd." Though Tuvano's voice was resonant, it contained an edge of humor that ran against his stern countenance. "Besides, you do not deserve to meet me atop the mountain."
"What? But I'm the Hero!"
"No. You're not."
The words cracked the room. Melal reeled back and drew his sword, which shone despite the darkness around them. As he leveled the blade toward the old man, Slaten feared for a moment that he would strike Tuvano down after coming so far. Yet Tuvano swelled on his side of the room, the light only illuminating him instead of intimidating. For a moment, he seemed to observe them from the will of the heavens themselves.
Then they were only standing in an ordinary room. Slowly Melal's arm dropped and he put his sword away.
"There, that's better. Why don't you have a seat?" When all of them did so, Sage Tuvano continued in a more somber voice. "What does it mean to be the Hero? It does not mean to possess power, it means to use power to bring the Legend to completion. You have stepped into the Legend, but you have not yet walked the path. It is not time for you to climb the mountain, not yet."
"Then what must I do?" Melal asked.
"You have many great tasks before you, but today I ask only that you listen. What is the Legend, truly? It is the story that resonates in the heart of all, yet it is more than that. It is the certainty that flows through and from our hearts. The Hero is not the Legend any more than the fruit is the plant that bears it. So the Legend is not some simple quest or journey, it is the growth of the world itself."
Such abstract language left Slaten slightly dazed. Just as in the early days when he had stood in horrified awe of the Hero, he felt part of himself being swept away. Though he struggled against it as well as he could and tried to listen to the words instead of the majestic tone, he wondered what Tani would hear if she had been present.
He was barely aware of the others. Melal stared utterly entranced by the words, his back straightening and his eyes burning with new purpose. Beside him, Slaten could just see Laeri listening with her lips slightly parted. All three remained silent as the Sage continued.
"The path of the Legend is not any number of steps across the earth, it is the shape of everything. You must understand that it touches everyone, both your allies and your enemies. Most importantly, the Legend flows through the Deathspawn. They are your partner in this dance, and only with their help can the Legend reach fruition in the final battle."
Though Melal nodded as if that made sense, Slaten struggled against it. His throat was thick with unspoken meaning, yet he forced himself to speak. "What does that actually mean? Why would the Deathspawn seek the Legend if it means all of them will die?"
Sage Tuvano stared at him, bushy eyebrows rising, then he shook his head slowly. "They travel toward their final doom because they must. It is their purpose to perish, so that their evil may be ended forever."
"I understand, Sage Tuvano." Melal lowered his head as if accepting a great weight. "But am I not ready to slay the Deathspawn?"
"You may slay some, but they are far ahead of you on the path, young Hero. For generations, the Legend has been driving them to conquer the world. If you were to do battle with the Zeitai now, much less face the Dark Lord himself, then the Legend could never bear fruit."
"Then what must I do to catch up?"
"All cultures speak of the Legend, but most retellings are broken. Many are missing a crucial element: the seals." Tuvano sat back and stroked his chin, and for the first time Slaten noticed that the Sage had thick white stubble. It looked out of place with his grandiose appearance. "I must wonder if that is intentional, for I fear your great opponent has been moving against you since before you were born. But no matter, let me explain.
"Throughout the world lie nine seals that contain the hope of both humanity and and the Deathspawn. When the Deathspawn seize hold of them, they raise up another Zeitai to stand against you. Yet you can wrest the seals back from their control, and when you do, they are forever part of the Legend."
"Seals?" Laeri spoke this time, breathless as if the word held some great meaning, and it did seem that the word carried with it a brilliant hope. Slaten struggled to remain opaque against the violating transcendence.
"I cannot tell you what form they will take... but I can tell you that you have already found one, young Hero. It seems that you already walk firmly in the Legend, though you have so far yet to go."
Melal sat back, a bit of his old satisfaction on his face. "The Legend led me to steal it from the Deathspawn's very fingers. But that means that there are eight more, scattered across the entire world..."
"As it happens, what I want is for you to perform the same theft again." Tuvano sat back in his chair, again more an old man than a symbol. "There is another seal that has not yet been claimed, but the Deathspawn are close... troublingly close. If you can take it from them and prevent another Zeitai from being born, then you will have advanced far enough for me to speak to you directly."
"Where must I go?"
"The seal has appeared only in my dreams, so I cannot tell you the precise location. But I know that it lies to the north, within the three great nations of the Maenhu. I received other broken glimpses that I have tried to gather together into a meaningful picture... my little Julapa can give you a map that shows you what we know so far."
"Then I will not fail you!" Melal rose to his feet, his hand on his sword as if he had never drawn it on the old man. "I will return with the seal and receive your wisdom atop Mount Tmil!"
"There is one more thing. Before the end, you will need companions." Tuvano finally took his gaze from Melal, letting it rest on Slaten and then Laeri. "These two may serve you well, but you will need more allies who can walk alongside you."
"I hope the Bloodskins will follow me... and there are two others. They split from us before we could arrive, but I believe they hold the Legend within their hearts."
"If they do, then I promise that they will find you in the north. They will see your path in their dreams and feel it in their hearts." The Sage settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Go now, meet them and find the seal."
That seemed to be enough for Melal, who turned around and marched from the room as if he intended to cross the mountains that very day. Slaten forced himself to remain. Against his will he rose to his feet, but he pressed his hands down on the table and gripped it to retain himself.
"I have more questions."
"Go, companion. If you survive long enough to return, I will have words regarding your destiny. For now, my eyes have grown tired."
"But I-" Slaten cut off as an overwhelmingly powerful hand closed on his shoulder. He saw that Aganomu stood behind him, as silent and all-encompassing as the night. As the master began to pull him away, Slaten realized that he had only one chance and shouted. "I saw a pale city in golden flames!"
Tuvano's hand shot up and Aganomu hesitated. For a moment Slaten froze, wondering if he was about to die a quick death, but then Tuvano let out a long sigh. "Let him stay, Aganomu. It seems I cannot rest just yet."
The master slid from the room with a respectful nod. As Slaten sat back down, he realized that Laeri was still present as well. He had expected her to rush after Melal, yet her eyes held a determination that equaled his own. Though he was curious about her, he realized that he needed all his focus if he wanted to speak to the Sage.
"What you glimpsed," Tuvano said slowly, "was the Legend within yourself. Perhaps it was calling you to be the Hero's companion, perhaps not. I can feel your lust for power, so let me speak plainly: you may believe that you would be a better Hero, but that is not your destiny. It cannot be."
"I've seen Heroes die." As he croaked out the words, Slaten realized that they made him sound even more hungry for power, yet it was all that he could force out. He needed the Sage to stop intoning majestic destinies and address him as another human being.
To his surprise, it seemed to work. Tuvano raised an eyebrow and shifted back to a more comfortable position before speaking again. "That explains the strange darkness in you. The fact that you have seen such things and not lost faith is commendable."
"I need you to tell me why."
"The Legend's path is... not as straight as we might imply." The old man actually seemed to have a bit of a sly gleam in his eye. "It is not a prophecy etched in stone, it is a plant growing toward its full potential. If one Hero falls... well, he was never truly the Hero, not in the Legend's eyes. But his successes and failures feed the soil that raises the next. The plant cannot be cut off at the root, it is only pruned so that it grows ever faster."
Slaten swallowed. "Heroes will keep dying until the Legend is complete?"
"It isn't that simple, boy. I told you earlier: everything feeds into the Legend. Far more than any of the Hero's triumphs, the greatest factor feeding it is actually the Deathspawn invasions. That is why I have gathered some who can see the Legend in this community, and why I hope you succeed. We must not allow them to influence too much."
"What are they trying to accomplish? Could they control the Legend?"
"Impossible." Tuvano scowled and drummed his fingers on the table in a manner that was decidedly un-sage-like. "Truthfully, I have long struggled to understand this. The end of the path may be certain, but the steps taken are... malleable. I suspect that they hope to kill so many humans that when the Dark Lord falls and the Deathspawn perish, we die along with them."
The Sage's words echoed in his mind, not their unnatural resonance but their actual meaning. Was the death of every mansthein in the world truly inevitable? If so, then the least violent path would be to complete the Legend as soon as possible. Yet that made him think of Celivia, who would no doubt want to end the violence by having him surrender...
"Umm, Sage Tuvano?" Laeri's voice pulled him from his mental knots. The old man glanced over at her.
"Eh? Speak up, girl."
"I also have... a question about the Hero. I want to believe in him, and I..." Laeri clutched at her robe over her heart. "I have... so many feelings for him, I don't know what to believe. But... I saw other Heroes too. They seemed so focused, so full of purpose... with Melal, I... I..."
As Slaten stared at Laeri, to his surprise Tuvano chuckled. The Sage shifted in his chair to stare out a small window, quiet for a time before he responded.
"Let us forget the metaphor of a plant for now. Instead, think of the Legend as water, and we are all vessels. Most vessels contain a great many objects, so when the water fills them... it soon runs over. It may seem as though the vessel carries much water, and it will be quite heavy, but in truth it is mostly filled with random trinkets.
"Many of those who could be Heroes seek the power to accomplish other ends. Their vessels may grow heavy and they may awaken awe in all who see them. But the Legend exists for itself, not for any other purpose. Attempting to bend it to another purpose will ultimately fail, and those who attempt to do so will never carry forward its full purpose."
Laeri took in a deep breath, as if she had understood. "Then... Melal..."
"He is a remarkably empty vessel, but do not mistake that for weakness. Day by day, the water of the Legend fills him. When it is finally full and he begins to shine as others have... that will be something to behold. So take heart, both of you. I believe that you may be companions to the one who will become the greatest man in all of history."
As a surge of hope swelled around him, Slaten saw only darkness.
- End of Part 2 -
Interlude
Revgaad was a lousy little city, but it was lousy in an interesting way. It had no particular claim to fame except that it sat near the beginning of the Wahltiid River, which put it between human Wahleen, mansthein Wahleen, and the border with Portant. It was the site of all manner of chicanery.
As he padded along the street, Gahlun swept his eyes from side to side over the rooftops. Just in case there were any Deathspawn or errants lurking around. The problem with Revgaad was that there were strong fighters everywhere, doing whatever they did. Having Steelmasters and the like around meant that fewer weaker fighters were necessary, but sometimes they skulked about, trying to impress their betters.
When they didn't, that was when Gahlun could make a real profit.
On his way to his next meeting, he had to duck into the shadows several times to avoid Deathspawn soldiers. Marching around like they owned the place. Their presence meant that there were mansthein nobles in the city, which just meant his job was harder. This group might not know his face, but there had been that incident in Throne Wahles...
He found his contact in the usual place, a shoddy bar not far from the river. Waalut was a good sort, a pickpocket who had stolen his way up and now was a deft hand at making parts of shipments disappear. Though he never wore furs like the uppity mansthein, he had the reddish coloring of good Wahleenese mansthein. Solid sort.
