I do not wish to believe it, yet I cannot deny that I do. If I sin, I know I will be punished and accept it. But if I must die for my words, then let me write them in full. If a new master of the Heart is necessary, they will come from one of the Founts, either of Song or Blood.
Though I fear I am right, I hope I am wrong — May He Forever Reign.
- A Fable of Song and Blood, by Hellexa Yoreseer of the Blue Moon Obelisk, translated by Tal Harrenfel
A Bargain Fulfilled
Tal cradled the unconscious youth in one arm as he looked over the courtyard. Like the worst of my night terrors, he thought.
Corpses littered the broken stones. With the death of the Extinguished, the draugars had fallen, their sorcerous bindings unraveling, their bodies emptying into rotting vessels once more. The illusory dragon had disappeared in a shimmering of white light, leaving behind nothing but memories of its heart-stopping roar and searing flames that could not burn. The Extinguished himself had become little more than ashes, the wind slowly scattering them, and the gray, iron bracelet that he'd worn was broken, its links scattered about the ground.
Yet the nightmare was slowly fading. The fog had thinned, and pale fingers of daylight clawed through the clouds overhead, illuminating the ruins and lifting the deep shadows. The unholy influence that had lingered over the Ruins of Erlodan seemed to be dissipating.
But not without its cost.
Aelyn and Wren stumbled over to them. "My father!" the young woman said, her voice rising. "He disappeared! Is he—?"
Then she saw Falcon moaning in the tomb next to them and dashed over. "Father! Silence, Solemnity, and Serenity, but you're alive! He's bleeding, badly. Someone, help me stem his wound!"
With an arched eyebrow at Tal, Aelyn moved over to help. Tal gently settled Garin onto the ground and rose. The youth almost looked peaceful, his brow smoothed. Rest, he thought. Rest while you can. I fear it won't last long.
Together, the three of them cleaned and bound Falcon's wound. The bard could do little but moan, for though alive and conscious, he seemed lost in the pain of his awakening. Tal knew it wasn't just from his missing hand. The sorcery the Extinguished had cast over him had largely preserved his body, but his old friend had suffered from his months-long internment in the tomb. He could only hope it had passed as a long, dark dream.
After the bard's arm had been wrapped and purified of corruption, Tal leaned against the tomb next to Aelyn. The mage's hat had been lost during the fight, and some of his hairs had worked free of their braid to stick to his sweaty face. Catching Tal's eye, he nodded at the pile of ashes. "He burned your book."
Tal nodded. Even as the Extinguished had turned to ashes around Velori, flames had erupted from his hand to consume the tome. A Fable of Song and Blood, the book he had hunted down in the heart of the East's mountains, that Yuldor had so wished to possess that the Prince of Devils had lured Tal from hiding and manipulated him into handing it over, was no more.
"I suppose it's best. At the very least, the Enemy does not possess it." Aelyn glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Though I would have preferred to have read it before it burned."
Tal gave him a weary smile. "Never fear, my insatiable friend. Knowledge is never lost so long as one person remembers."
Aelyn watched him with eyes narrowed. "Why are you smiling?"
"Oh, no particular reason. Perhaps I'm just happy to be alive."
The elf snorted. "As if that were any reason. But I have mysteries enough to contemplate here — like that name the Extinguished gave you. Skaldurak — do you know what it means?"
Tal brushed back a loose strand of hair. "I may have translated Hellexa's tome, but my grip on the Darktongue is tenuous at best. 'Stone in the' … something."
"For an oaf, surprisingly close — it means 'Stone in the Wheel.'" Aelyn studied him. "But why, I wonder, did he call you that?"
"Because I have a propensity to ruin Yuldor's wagons?" Tal shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Aelyn harrumphed and pushed upright, swaying in place. "A riddle for another time, for we must now depart. The Nameless is dead, and his minions gone, but the Ruins of Erlodan are no place to linger."
Tal looked over their party. Garin still lay unconscious in the rubble, while Wren leaned over the tomb, holding her father's face in both hands. Falcon's eyes seemed to be focusing finally, and almost a smile touched his lips as he met his daughter's gaze.
"We're hardly fit to travel," he noted.
"And yet, we must." Aelyn's lip curled. "Come, Tal Harrenfel. Don't tell me your name ends here."
Tal sighed. "No, I suppose not. But you'll have to be less stingy with your sorcery if we're going to make it back down."
As the mage scowled, Tal heard a faint call of his name. Turning, he saw Falcon staring his way, and he hurried to him.
"He wants to tell you something," Wren said, beckoning him closer.
Tal leaned over the tomb, trying not to breathe in the putrid stench that rose from it. Preserved the bard might have been, but months in a tomb had still made him stink like the dead.
He gripped Falcon's remaining hand. "We came for you, old friend," he murmured. "You're safe now."
Falcon's words came out as soft as a breath, and Tal had to lean close to hear them.
"You cut off my hand, you bastard."
Tal winced as guilt lanced through him. "Yes, I did. And I'm so sorry, Falcon. But if it's any consolation, I lost a finger."
"A bard's hand is priceless beyond measure, ingrate. I'll make you pay for it a thousand times over."
Tal ignored Wren's disgusted look and said in a hushed voice, "Don't say it. More songs?"
Falcon's lips pulled apart as he tried to smile. "My playing days may be over, but I can still compose. The Legend of Tal lives again."
Tal squeezed his friend's hand even as resignation settled in. Priceless beyond measure, indeed. He'd never been more than a man; no one knew that now more than those gathered around him.
But they were alive. And if allowing a legend of lies to be woven around him was the cost, he'd pay it again a thousand times over.
Sixteen long days later, Tal stood before the King and fibbed for all he was worth.
"Then I stabbed him in the chest." Tal shrugged. "And that was that."
King Aldric narrowed his eyes. "That was that? You claim to kill one of the Extinguished, as much as they can be killed, then pretend it is of no consequence? It's as if you are reciting one of my bard's songs!"
The King lazily waved a hand at Falcon, who stood just behind Tal's shoulder. A truly kingly gesture, Tal thought, the corner of his mouth twitching. The Court Bard had been entombed for months, his soul ripped from his body, one of his hands severed, and only remained standing by his daughter's support. Yet the King scarcely seemed to notice his return. Perhaps he was more satisfied with the Soulstealer than a minstrel who can no longer play.
"I would not say of no consequence." Tal displayed his most conceited smile as he raised his bandaged hand. "I lost a finger, and Falcon a hand. To make no mention that I've fulfilled my part of a king's bargain."