“Aaah!”
A great cry rose up—and then all sound ceased. Every giant in the amphitheater of the Lagon instantly grew still. It was as though all of them had been turned to stone, like the people of Kanan in the legend of the lost empire. The silence that gripped the mountain vale was filled with meaning, the premonition of a great change both subtle and complex.
All the Lagon, even Kah the Wise, held their breath, their voices robbed from them by what they saw. Their power to move, their ability to think—everything was paralyzed. Wide-eyed they huddled, a silent throng, a crowd of awestruck statues.
Around them the mountains towered, jagged crags looming high above the barren valley and its village of stone. Already, far beyond the dark slopes of the mountains, the pale white sphere of Aeris the moon goddess, ever shy, hurried to hide herself. The first rays of morning that heralded the arrival of Ruah’s golden chariot would soon reach the valley floor.
The portent-filled predawn light bathed the giant Lagon of Nospherus as they sat unmoving. Among the crowd one of the stone chairs of the chieftains sat empty; in the other, Kah the Wise was poised, leaning far forward, his eyes wide in awe, his six-fingered hands gripping the arms of his chair, his long robe reaching to the ground.
Every giant’s gaze was fixed on the center of the amphitheater, where the arena was cut like a bowl from the valley rock. There, Dodok the Brave stood ready to leap, his hand extended—yet his feet were planted firmly on the ground, motionless.
Just before him, half-risen from the ground, was Guin. The leopard-man extended his right hand directly toward his foe, gripping the object he had instinctively pulled from his belt like a ward to fend off demons. It was clear from the way every eye was drawn to the object in his hand that this was the source of the enchantment that held the village in thrall; yet Guin, who wielded it, understood what was happening the least. Even when his foe stopped short in his attack, and a silence like, the death of all creation fell upon them, he had no comprehension of what had happened. Guin too was frozen in place, a statue, as though caught in the very ensorcelment he had wrought.
Even had he dared look at what he held, he would have been at a loss to remember whence it had come, or what it was. He did not look; instead, like the legendary Irana brandishing the Sword of Victory, he held it up to the Lagon brave. It was as though the slender, silvery object sent invisible rays of power streaming in all directions to envelop the entire world, transporting it to an eternal dimension where time, life, and death were no more than dreams.
Guin feared that if he so much as twitched, he would break the bizarre spell that had overtaken the valley, and the interrupted combat would reach its bloody conclusion.
Yet, in that stifling silence and stillness, time had not stopped its motion but flowed on soundlessly. Though none there had the presence of mind to notice it, a great sunrise was beginning in the east. As he did every morn, the sun god Ruah rose above the land, spread his shining hands, and thrust them into the valley.
The first beam of light to strike the valley floor was greeted with a new cry from the crowd, and at once, the spell was ended. Like sunlight melting dew, the surprise and fear that hung heavy in the air unraveled into a tremendous yell of exhilaration.
“Look! Look!” the Lagon began to shout, their individual cries blending together until the valley shuddered with the roar. In the very midst of it all, Guin rose to stand, legs apart, brandishing the object in his right hand on high. He looked and knew for the first time that the oddly shaped silvery rod he held was the object he had seen sparkle in the valley of salt and, without thinking, picked up and thrust into his belt. But perhaps it had not been Guin who picked up the rod at all, but the rod that used Guin to enact its will.
In a flash the leopard-man was enveloped in the radiance of the morning sun, and the light reflecting off the rod was so bright it became impossible to look at it directly.
“Ohhh!” came a low moan from the crowd. It was Kah the Wise. The ancient sage clutched the wooden armrests of his chair so tightly that it seemed he would snap them in two, and he leaned forward so far he was in danger of toppling to the ground. “Aqrra!”
That started it. Until now, the crowd was lost in awe and confusion—now they had a direction.
“Aqrra! It’s Aqrra!”
“Aqrra!”
“He is Aqrra’s messenger!”
“It is as the legend says!”
“The sign of Aqrra!”
“Aqrra!”
Soon, the cries of the Lagon swelled into a single great chorus, chanting, “Aqrra! Aqrra!”
A moment later, the wildlings were leaping from their seats. As one the giants of Nospherus ran toward the leopard-headed, bare-chested warrior in the middle of the arena, racing to be the first to prostrate themselves before him.
It seemed as if lightning had stricken Dodok the Brave, so fast did he fall at Guin’s feet, practically kissing the chalk-covered toes of the man he had tried to strike down in mortal combat only moments before.
The object in Guin’s hand sparkled in the gradually waxing morning light, and then, as though by some magic, a high, clear sound like breaking crystal rang through the air.
“Aqrra!” Every Lagon, warriors, women, elders, even children dragged by their mothers’ hands, reached out toward Guin, bowing to the ground before him as though smitten with awe.
Once again silence filled the arena, but its character was different from the frozen hush of a moment before. This was a warm stillness that held not fear, but endless hope. On the stone steps of the amphitheater, two powerful Lagon warriors joined arms beneath Kah the Wise and lifted him slowly from the stone chair. Guin gasped. The six-fingered elder’s legs were withered beneath his long robes. He could not stand on his own.
In reverent silence, the two warriors carried Kah the Wise gently down the stairs. The crowd parted wordlessly before him. When he reached the bottom they carried him up to the leopard-headed warrior. Kah motioned to the warriors and they set him down upon the earth next to where Dodok the Brave still crouched.
A brilliant ray of light shot down into the valley, enveloping Guin in a radiant aura. The rod in his hand chimed like a bell made of the rarest silver. Kah looked up at him, his eyes filled with a deep surprise and joy.
“Messenger of Aqrra,” the sage said in a faint voice.
“Messenger of Aqrra!” echoed the Lagon.
“The… tales were true. I live to see their truth. Of a long line of wise and unerring Kah, this Kah the Wise that is me, has met a messenger of Aqrra. I meet the one who will lead the Lagon to the promised land.”
Kah closed his eyes. Glistening tears ran in two lines down his ancient cheeks. “Aqrra, I give thanks,” he rasped. Next to him, Dodok the Brave kept his head pressed to the ground.
Guin stood in the midst of all the Lagon’s adoration and fearful reverence, bathed in light, his leopard head seeming for all the world like destiny given physical form.
Kah the Wise stretched out a hand, palm-first, toward the sign Guin carried. “You are Aqrra’s messenger.” The old wildling’s voice, though low, carried clearly to every corner of the stone village. “Lagon will follow you. Lagon will go where you lead, fight your enemies, and befriend your friends. Even if a battle bears no hope or benefit, if you say ‘fight,’ lagon will fight until the last warrior has fallen dead upon the ground. Even if you lead us to a barren waste, a valley of death and miasma, we will not doubt that it is Aqrra’s promised land. You were the one chosen as Aqrra’s messenger, to carry Aqrra’s sign, to speak with Aqrra’s words. Warrior with the Head of a Beast, lagon will follow you.”
“Lagon will follow!”
The crying erupted from the mouths of every Lagon there and echoed through the valley.
“Lagon will follow!”
“Lagon!”
Guin reached out and took the six-fingered hand of Kah the Wise into his own. Though it seemed he had outlasted his need for the silver rod—the sign of Aqrra—he kept it held high in his other hand, just in case. The leopard-man looked once at the crowd bowed before him. Then he spoke:
“Lagon of Nospherus! I am come to ask for your aid. I am come to ask you to join me in battle.” Guin’s clear voice rang through the amphitheater. “Beyond your valley, across the valley of salt, across several dunes and the wasteland plains, a great army has invaded this land of Nospherus from beyond the flow of the Kes. Even now, a great Mongauli host faces the unified tribes of the Sem. The Sem resist the Mongauli, but the Sem are far smaller and not as well armed—and yet, although they are at a disadvantage, they yield not one grain of sand without a struggle. The fighting has been bitter, but the Sem believe it is their divine duty as children of Nospherus to drive back the invaders. I am come to ask the Lagon to help the Sem army. You, too, are children of Nospherus, and you must defend your home from the warriors of Mongaul who come to usurp it for their own ends. Preserve it always as a free land for those who are born here to live!