He knew he should not dwell on such matters, yet it was impossible to stop. If it were true, and he was nothing more than a finger upon the hand of fate, he had no guarantee that whatever controlled him was not evil. What if that giant entity pushing him along through the world was not Janos or Jarn, the ancient wielder of fate’s skein, but a servant of Doal, source of evils, or perhaps even Doal himself?
A shiver ran unbidden down Guin’s spine. Kah the Wise turned a knowing gaze in his direction, marking how the warrior’s neck tensed and trembled.
“As we use tools, so does fate use us,” the ancient wilding said comfortingly. “Even if the revelation of Aqrra you have brought to us leads us not down the good path, but the bad, and even if many of us fall in the battle you have commanded of us, we will not call you a false messenger. It is vital that we follow the word of Aqrra, no matter what the consequences; for the consequences do not matter. What matters is that we are led by Aqrra, and follow Aqrra’s word. Doing so is the reason our people exist.”
Kah’s simple words were filled with the highest kind of faith, and they surprised Guin greatly. “What is this Aqrra that holds so much power over your people?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whimper. “Is it a god? Or a man? Or something that has never been in this world? Tell me, why do the Lagon follow the lead of Aqrra so faithfully, without question?”
“Soon preparations will be complete, and we will be ready to leave this village,” Kah said evasively, his mouth slowly curving into a smile. “Brave Guin, I see you are troubled, and have been for some time. I wonder, what is it that worries you? Have you made some promise that wears at your heart? Even when it was decided that we would join you, I saw not a moment’s break from this trouble in your eyes.”
“In truth, I am afraid I’ve run out of time,” Guin told him, the admission made easier by Kah’s keen perception. “To my allies I swore that I would return with the Lagon by sunfall tonight. When that time is up, there will not only be great danger to me; the twins of Parros, the little prince and princess who accompanied me across the desert, will be killed. Yet the sun is already in the sky, and we are far beyond the Dog’s Head, and there is no way, save magic, by which I might hope to bring your warriors to the field of battle by nightfall today—for it is a distance that would take a horse two days to cross.”
As he spoke, Guin felt the unease clutch at his chest with renewed vigor, and he thrust back his head and growled toward the sky.
For a while, the elder said nothing. He seemed to be deep in thought, but at last he nodded slowly, and opened his eyes. “If that is the case,” he said, his voice as solemn as though he were uttering a sacred oath, “then we must make haste. Brave Guin—lagon are no common people. Many are the wonders that befall us. The revelations of Aqrra are but one of these. Deep, too, is our knowledge of this land of Nospherus, more than all other peoples combined. We may make the journey in time, or we may not. That is for Aqrra to decide. Brave Guin, later you must come to me and you must tell me of this place you wish to take us, you must describe it as best you can.”
“I shall. But, if you do not intend some great sorcery, this place to which I take you now is a journey of ten days distant, perhaps more. It will take a full day merely to cross the Dog’s Head.” Guin frowned grimly. “Oh, but the Lady of Mongauli is right…” he muttered fiercely. “She chases after the Pearls of Parros unceasingly, and if her warriors cannot claim the secret of transport the twins hold, they will kill them—innocent children!—so that no one else might claim it in her stead.
“The secret the twins hold is too great, impossibly great—so powerful it could carry them from the burning Crystal Palace all the way to the Roodwood in the blink of an eye. How many generals, how many kings, would not sell their soul one thousand times over for the chance to wield such power…”
By the time he finished speaking, Guin’s words had fallen to the faintest of whispers.
Kah the Wise looked on in silence. When he spoke, it was not in answer to Guin. “We will do what we can, and only Aqrra knows if we shall succeed or we shall fail. Yet I see you are still troubled, so to ease your worries I will talk to you of lagon until the tribe’s preparations to leave are complete.”
“I would like that very much,” Guin said gladly. His curiosity had been piqued by the earlier conversation, and in any case he could do little until the Lagon were ready to depart. It seemed best to sate his curiosity; perhaps the elder’s words would distract him from his worries.
“Aqrra… Aqrra is not a god,” Kah the Wise began slowly. “Nor is Aqrra a living being. Aqrra—that which we call Aqrra— is a place.”
“A place?” Guin said, gasping with surprise. “How can a mere place lead you, let alone show revelations?”
“It can,” Kah said simply, his voice filled with iron faith. “This is because Aqrra is unlike any other place. Even as you said when you spoke before the lagon, it is a place where none may tread. If anyone were to face Aqrra, he would die standing. There are stories of those who have glimpsed Aqrra from afar, and according to these stories, around Aqrra, all is covered with the white bones of man and beast. Step upon them, and the bones shatter; a man’s foot would sink deep into that white valley of death. This is the strange power of Aqrra. Yet as to what it truly is, none can say, for none can step near it.
“Yet each of those fallen bones, every single one, lies in line, pointing toward the center, and whether the morning sun shines upon it or not, Aqrra glows with a strange silvery light, and sometimes eerie voices and sounds not of this world can be heard there.
“Since the very first Kah the Wise of lagon, there have been many hundreds of Kahs, and all of them tell one tale. In this tale, it is said that it was Aqrra who made lagon. Aqrra fell from the sky with a blazing white light on a night as dark as death, and brought fiery ruin to Nospherus. Aqrra’s strength was great, and none could escape it.
“Before the coming of Aqrra, lagon and sem were as one, neither larger nor smaller than the other. Yet when Aqrra descended, the chiefs of our two peoples were destroyed, and when they once again reappeared, they were lagon and sem as we know them today. You see, it was Aqrra who made us, and so lagon serve Aqrra and follow Aqrra’s commands, for we were brought out of death by Aqrra.
“It is also said that Aqrra will one day rage again. When this happens, we lagon will stand and greet Aqrra, and by Aqrra’s tremendous strength, all peoples in all lands but lagon will be turned to white bone. Only lagon, who serve Aqrra, will be forgiven this punishment and saved from the great miasma Aqrra brings.”
Guin breathed deeply. The story was done. It was a strange tale, yet it did not sound like the empty rambling of some wildling fable-teller. Had Guin been at the Lady of Mongaul’s war-pavilion, had he heard there the story of Cal Moru, magus of Kitai, who had crossed Nospherus by foot—the very story that had inspired the Mongauli invasion—he would have been deeply surprised, and alarmed.
Yet Cal Moru’s tale was unknown to him, and he could not divine with any certainty which parts of Kah’s story might be baseless legend, and which parts were a representation, however symbolic, of actual events.
“That is an amazing tale. However—”
Guin had just begun when two Lagon warriors rushed in through the rough-hewn doorway. They were dressed in full battle garb, and they bowed deeply to Guin and Kah before announcing that all the Lagon’s preparations were complete. Then, linking their hands, they picked up Kah the Wise, and began to leave.
“Let us go. We must hurry, now,” Kah said with a wave of his hand. He seemed to have entirely forgotten their conversation of a moment before. “We make for the Wind Hole.”
“The Wind Hole?” Guin asked, but the wildling elder was already on his way out the door.
As Guin hurried out after him, he realized that he knew what it was that had been nagging at him since hearing the elder’s story.
Aqrra... Why did it sound so familiar?
Was it not strangely similar to that word—Aurra—that Guin clung to as a token from his life before he woke beside the Roodspring?
It was yet another enigmatic coincidence.