Aglanthol 3 - The Castle of Saelethiel (The Law Cannot Be Shaken) - 3. Chapter 3

Qildor rode to Tanmil in the evening to meet up with Magath. He had just entered the house when they heard a knock at the door. Magath opened it. Gwyn stood outside with a basket of eggs in her hands.

"Oh, I did not want to intrude," she said when she spotted Qildor.

"You don’t intrude, Mistress Gwyn," Qildor said, hurrying to the door in order to greet her.

Magath asked Gwyn in. The woman placed the basket on the table cautiously.

"I would have brought more eggs if I had known know you were here, Qildor," she said.

She looked between the two men. Qildor smiled at her warmly.

"Why don’t you stay with us for dinner, Mistress Gwyn?" he asked.

"Yes, stay with us, Gwyn," Magath said. "Vegetable soup and fried eggs. And corn bread, of course. How does that sound to you?"

Gwyn smirked.

"Not the best of combinations," she replied. "But I’ll accept your offer, Magath. Thank you."

The three of them sat down at the table and while they ate their meals, Qildor told them of the captive they had made.

"We set him free," he said. "The man did not tell us anything important. Just some made-up weird stories to satisfy my soldiers' curiosity. Bare nonsense. Fantasy tales."

Qildor gave a laugh.

"He said he was a farmer, but I rather think he was a Khalindash story-teller. He had a talent for storytelling. Rather crude stories, indeed."

"What did he tell you?" Gwyn asked. The old woman was a good storyteller. This explained her curiosity.

"His stories can’t compare to yours," Qildor said. "The man told us stories that he most likely made up the very instant he told them. When one of my men asked him what he thought was the biggest threat to Aglanthol, he said the biggest threat was a magical tool that was guarded in an ancient palace. He made quite a fuss about it. Once released, the powerful magic would bring doom and destruction to Aglanthol. When one of my men asked him where that said palace was, he just shrugged and gazed into the room. However, he insisted that the time of doom was near. I asked him where and when he had learned of it. Overheard, he said. He had overheard it when the black rider had talked to himself."

Qildor gave another hearty laugh and looked at Magath. The man, however, did not look back at him. He gazed at Gwyn instead. Qildor followed Magath’s look. He fell silent instantly at the sight of the old woman. Gwyn’s face was as white as snow and her lips trembled slightly. The woman pressed the palms of her hands together. Gwyn looked like in a state of shock.

"Mistress Gwyn?" Magath asked in a worried voice.

The woman’s eyes flickered as she tried to fix her eyes on Magath. Magath poured a mug of water and reached it out to Gwyn. The woman reached out her hand and seized the mug. She drank the water slowly while the two men watched her anxiously.

"Mistress Gwyn?" Qildor asked. "What’s wrong?" He was feeling confused at the woman’s reaction to his words.

Gwyn swallowed and a tear ran down her cheek.

"We all felt it coming," she said. "The end of time is near."

Qildor and Magath exchanged a glance. And then Magath placed his arm around the fragile woman.

~~**~~

"What happened, Mistress Gwyn? What does distress you?" Magath asked softly.

Gwyn looked at him sadly.

"The man did not make up the story. I know it as well," she replied.

"It’s just a fantasy tale," Qildor said, looking between Gwyn and Magath.

Gwyn gave Qildor a reproachful look.

"How can you say so, Qildor?" she asked. "You in particular must know that many stories tell the truth. Wasn’t the legend of Khaalindaan all true? You have seen Norlorn’s sword with your very eyes. You saw Khaalindaan’s spirit at work. The spirit aimed at Aglanthol’s doom and destruction. It almost killed Dran. It almost killed Magath."

Gwyn fell silent. Then she took a deep breath.

"It almost killed me," she said in a low voice.

Qildor lowered his eyes. He felt guilty again. The woman spoke the truth. She had told them the legend of Khaalindaan. And the legend had proven to be true.

"Yes, Mistress Gwyn," Qildor admitted in a pressed voice. "It was all true."

He fell silent and avoided Gwyn’s eyes and Magath’s reproachful look. Magath leaned in to the woman once more.

"What is this story about, Mistress Gwyn?" he asked softly.

"I heard the story many years ago," Gwyn started. "My aunt told it one Winter Solstice evening. Nobody considered it true. Everybody just took it as a warning."

"A warning of what?" Magath asked softly.

"A warning of pride and haughtiness, of cupidity and voraciousness," Gwyn said. "Let me tell you the story."

Gwyn took a breath and then continued.

"A long, long time ago, aeons ago, mighty and powerful wizards lived among the people. Their magic was powerful and they could have used it for the good or the evil. But those men were wise and they acted for the good of mankind. They had a gathering and they discussed their powers. And then they decided to hide the most powerful magical force from the eyes of men so that this force would never be used. The wise men knew that all men were imperfect. Sometimes they act for the good, and sometimes they act for the bad. And some men decide to do evil always. There are even wizards and magicians that do evil. Those are called the black magicians. A magical talent is a gift. This talent should be encouraged. But when the magical power augments, then also does the temptation. The magician feels tempted to go astray and use his power for his selfish goals instead for the good of all mankind. The bigger the power, the worse it can be used. The wise men knew of this temptation and they feared that their biggest power would ultimately be used for doom and destruction. And so they hid the magical tool in the palace without entrance."

Gwyn’s lips shivered slightly.

"Oh, I dreamed that I struggled to get out of a room. But I did not find a door. I was feeling desperate. I awoke and I felt very worried. I could not go back to sleep for some time," she said in a worried voice.

Gwyn let out a sigh.

"The story is all true and the palace is real. Oh, I fear that some black magician will find the place and then will seize the magical tool. I fear he will use the most powerful magic for selfish reasons. This will ultimately bring about the end of the world."

Gwyn fell silent. Magath and Qildor exchanged a long look. Magath patted Gwyn’s shoulder.

"There’s no evidence this story is true, Mistress Gwyn," he said softly. "Just because the Khalindash man told it also, it does not mean it is true. This story really sounds more like a fantasy tale."

Gwyn lowered her hands. She looked at Magath seriously.

"My reasoning seconds this, Magath. But my feelings do not," she said. "My dream frightens me. It was so real."

Magath glanced to Qildor. Qildor gave a barely visible shrug. Gwyn looked between them. She was suddenly feeling silly and insecure.

"I apologize. I’m just an old woman, suffering from nerves probably," she said, rising to her feet. She avoided the men’s eyes.

"I’ll take you home," Magath said quickly, rising to his feet as well.

"No," Gwyn said, shaking her head. "I’ll go on my own. I was just suffering from nerves. I do already feel better."

The old woman left. Magath looked at Qildor.

"What do you think?’ Magath asked.

Qildor shrugged.

"It really sounds more like a fantasy tale. I would not take Gwyn’s story seriously, if she were not Gwyn. I mean her stories are not made-up. She knows all the old legends and tales. And we do know that the legend of Khaalindaan was true."

He paused for a moment, thinking.

"I admit that I find it hard to believe her story. But I witnessed a lot of things I had never believed to be true. The Castle of Saelethiel, for instance, is real. If I had not accompanied Neldor to the castle, I would shrug it all off," he said.

He leaned forward and looked into the room for a while before he turned his eyes back to Magath.

"I know for sure, Magath, that the Castle of Saelethiel was built aeons ago. I was there. I saw it with my very eyes. The books in the castle are old. They are ancient. The castle guards immemorial secrets. The wizards Norlorn and Khaalindaan were the last of the big wizards. They lived a thousand years ago and they were the last of their kind. Only Neldor was able to decipher Norlorn’s scripts and follow his instructions in a thousand years. I thought Neldor was the most powerful wizard in these days. But perhaps he is not the only one."

Qildor looked into the room thoughtfully. Magath watched him.

"This does not necessarily mean this weird story is true also," Magath said. "Where would this ancient palace be? And who would be the one looking for it in order to release and misuse the power? There are many villains roaming the country. The Khalindash have often crossed the frontier and attacked the villages in the north of Aglanthol. Gwyn is sensitive. I told you how we all feel about it. We have uneasy feelings, a sense of foreboding. This explains Gwyn’s reaction. However, I think she was overreacting. This story sounds very unreal."

They looked at each other. Qildor nodded.

"Dran had an uneasy feeling also. He said that something evil was lurking out there," Magath added.

Qildor took a deep breath.

"I cannot act on feelings," he said.

He grimaced at his own words, knowing that he often trusted his gut feelings and acted on them. Qildor shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Not much to trust in, in fact," Magath admitted. "But let me remind you. It’s just like it had been that winter when we decided to investigate on Khaalindaan."

Qildor gave Magath a piercing look.

"So what do you expect me to do? Send out men and explore Khalindash territory? What am I supposed to tell them? Look out for a hooded man who is talking to himself about a palace without entrance? They would declare me insane, Magath."

"Why not inquire the wizard Neldor?" Magath suggested.

Qildor rubbed his chin, pondering.

"I’ve just arrived. I cannot leave again so soon and travel back to the royal court. But I’ll send one of my men to Neldor with a message. If anybody, then the wizard must know of this palace and the magical tool," he said.

They sat in silence for a while, each of them lingering on their own thoughts.

"How do you feel about it?" Magath asked finally.

Qildor grimaced. He looked at the ceiling for a while before he turned his eyes back to Magath.

"I hate to say it, Magath, I really do. But my gut feeling tells me to act instantly and not waste time anymore," he said.

A faint smile crossed Magath’s face.

"Yes," he said. "I second this. We must not waste time. I feel very much the same."

~~**~~