In the Eye of the Beholder
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 14532
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Jarlath the Broken was blind. His eyes had melted from within the bones of
his skull some time ago. If it
wasn't for the Vision that guided his life he would have been at the
complete mercy of all those things
which hide in the darkness. And for Jarlath his entire world was
hidden in darkness. But there
was one advantage the blind had over those blessed with sight. They could
not be fooled by the illusion
of appearance. Whereas for all others, seeing was believing. And Jarlath
knew this gave him power.
The power to achieve his predestined ends.
And the end at hand was a simple one. In order to fulfill the prophecies of his Vision, a House of Man would have to come to ruin and the last children of the Sons of God would finally have to rejoin their fallen brethren. And he, Jarlath, would reign as a Lord over the devastation.
The Giants of olde had been gifted with many treasures but they had all been destroyed or lost until only one was left. The Sceptre of Bardothuam. Was it merely a symbol of authority, or did it hold power as the wands of the wizard lords do? There are none left behind on this world who know the answer. But it is known that the Sceptre was a cherished possession. Joab the Rephite and Ishmael the Anakite were both aware that within Mahmoud's most guarded chambers lay this Sceptre. And they also knew that after Mahmoud's death the Sceptre would be passed on to a new master. And only the master of the Sceptre could make a rightful claim to the lordship of the kingdoms of the Nephilim. And even though the kingdoms had all fallen into dust or had been crushed under ice or had withered away in desert sands, still this was of great import to the two giants. And Jarlath would use this against them. But he did not have much time. Andrea had run away only yesterday and in two days time she would reach Smuggler's Cove, setting the stage for what was to come.
Joab had been following a stag through the snow-swept heights above his abode. The animal had escaped him but it wasn't far off and the animal's tracks were clear and fresh in the deep snow. It was a great surprise then, when he topped a rise, that the tracks simply stopped. Where had the stag gone? Joab searched the area closely but his inspection was cut short when his foot dislodged part of the rock shelf and he tumbled down into any icy chasm. Mahmoud made his way through tunnels long unused. Jarlath had requested he meet with Ishmael. It was a part of Jarlath's scheme to end Mahmoud's pain and shame. But Mahmoud could not fathom what Jarlath intended, the instructions the Blind One had given him were strange. But Mahmoud wanted to be free of his warring brethren and so he had accepted his part. Ishmael listened to the wind howling across the rocks of his home and felt at peace. If only the Rephite were dead then this land would be truly at peace and Ishmael would be truly happy. But until then he would have to be content with small moments like these when it seemed that he was the only soul alive in this ice-bound haven and the strife within his heart burned low. But then the wind shifted and along its cold currents a new sound was carried. The howling remained but Ishmael listened carefully and he quickly discerned that the sound was of voices. And this disturbed his heart, and his moment of peace was lost. Getting up from where he sat, Ishmael headed off in the direction from which the voices came. Joab picked himself up from the ledge upon which he had crashed. He rubbed his head and looked up. The blue-white sky was far away. And then something flashed and the light hurt his eyes. Through the twisting columns of the underground grotto he looked toward where the flash had come from and he espied Mahmoud. The Elder giant was not near but with care Joab would be able to follow him, tracking him like a shadow in the rocky ice that hung above Mahmoud's head. Joab did not normally concern himself with the Elder, but a deep curiosity now burned within him. What was it that had flashed in the light that streamed down from above? What was it that Mahmoud carried with him and where was he taking it? Ishmael found himself in a maze of caverns and passageways. It had been difficult following the sound of the voices. Many times it had become lost in the roar of the wind or was drowned out in strange echoes that reverberated off of the tight packed ice and stone that surrounded him. But he did not flag in his efforts because, although what the voices spoke of he could not tell, one word had reached his ears that he had most definitely understood. Sceptre. Mahmoud did not understand why Jarlath had bid him to take a sword. Jarlath knew that Mahmoud would not fight his brothers. But Jarlath assured him that a fight was not his intention. He gave Mahmoud words to speak as well, but once again the Blind One's intention was lost to the giant. But if the outcome was as Mahmoud desired, then his understanding was not necessary. Only his participation. And so the giant hurried along with his metal-sheathed long sword toward the place appointed by Jarlath for the meeting. Ishmael crept into a darkened chamber within the underground rock and paused. The wind had died down to a shrill but faint whistle as it glided through the cracks of the grotto. So intent was he on listening for the voices that he failed to notice the warning hiss of a cave worm. It struck and sunk its venomous teeth deep into his shank. He cried out and grabbed the monster, thrashing it against the sharp rocks of the cavern. It died and he pried it from his leg but the venom that flowed through his veins numbed his mind and before he had staggered but a few feet he fell down onto the ground unconcious. Joab stepped gingerly through the mass of twisting, spiralling, crossing overhangs and undershelves of rock. He was closer now to the passages through which Mahmoud traveled, but still not close enough to see what the Elder carried with him. The underground grotto they moved through was like a honeycomb and just as Joab would come in sight of Mahmoud, the Elder would pass behind a wall or be hidden by columns of fat, wet stone. Mahmoud came to the place Jarlath had instructed him to and he found Ishmael lying prone on the floor of the chamber. This was not what he had expected. But even so, he played the part Jarlath had given him just as Jarlath had bid him to. Kneeling down, he placed the sheathed sword by Ishmael's outstretched hands. Joab climbed through a hole in the ceiling and then peered down from his perch. Light from above suddenly broke through some hidden pathway and struck upon the object that the Elder had brought here. It dazzled Joab for a moment but also illumined the dark chamber long enough for him to know that Mahmoud was not alone. Laying upon the stone floor, in the manner of the supplicant, was his hated rival Ishmael. And now Joab knew what it was that Mahmoud was carrying. The Sceptre. What else would Ishmael debase himself for? And as Mahmoud kneeled down and handed Ishmael the coveted rod, Joab bit back on his anguish and turned and fled from that place. Ishmael's senses returned to him but slowly. He felt that someone was near and percieved that it was Mahmoud. The Elder was saying something but it was difficult for Ishmael to undertstand. His head throbbed and his eyes ached. But when Mahmoud knelt down and placed the old sword at his fingertips, Ishmael heard what the giant said in terrible detail. "I have given Joab great power. I give you this. Do what you must." And then Mahmoud turned and walked away. Tears beaded in Ishmael's eyes. How could this thing have come to pass? The voices he had heard he knew had been of Mahmoud and of Joab, but it had never occured to him that the Elder would ever grant the sacred Sceptre to his enemy. But the truth of it could not now be denied. Two giants stood at opposite ends of a desolate city covered in ice and snow. Two giants both filled with bitter wrath. The Sceptre had been passed on and now the end for one or the other could no longer be postponed. They both cried out in rage to the uncaring sky and in return the winds howled back in answer. Howling and screaming, the sound was twisted and torn and took on the vestiges of a deep and growling voice. And the voice laid down a challenge, a challenge to meet at the edge of the Chul Suz, near the city of the humans. A challenge that would end only in death. Mahmoud returned to his chambers and found Jarlath waiting there for him. "I have done as you said, " Mahmoud told him. A look of worry crossed Jarlath's face, "There is a problem." Mahmoud did not like the sound of his voice. "What is it?" Jarlath took a deep breath, "The wolfwoman has gone." Mahmoud sat down in his great chair and asked with concern, "Was she not important to your plan? Is the plan in jeapordy?" Jarlath nodded, "Without Andrea all is for nought. But there is something else... she did not leave here empty handed. She took something that belongs to you." Mahmoud's eyes narrowed and his jaws grew tight. "What?" Jarlath pointed his walking staff at a magnificent frieze set in a far wall. Mahmoud leapt up from his seat. "Impossible!" he whispered. "See for yourself," Jarlath replied. Mahmoud rushed to the frieze and his hands played over the figures in a complicated pattern no seeing eye could follow. A doorway opened in the wall and Mahmoud entered a secrect chamber. A place had been set apart within that chamber, a place of honor which held the last prize of the Race of giants. But it was empty. A roar shook the foundations of the monolithic mansion and Mahmoud came hurtling back into the main chamber. "The Sceptre!" he screamed and rushed at Jarlath. Jarlath took a step backward and disappeared into the wall. Only his voice was left, but it too drifted off into nothingness. But not before Mahmoud was told that the wolfwoman had taken it to the city of the humans on the edge of the sea. Mahmoud stalked out in a rage leaving his mansion behind. And when he was gone Jarlath reappeared. He turned toward the frieze and made his way across the room and into the chamber beyond, the clickety-click of his walking staff echoing off the walls. He stopped when his staff struck the edge of an oversized table. With a tentative hand he felt along the surface of the table until his fingers touched upon some object. He didn't know what it was. He took it and threw it across the room and it sped unerringly at the empty space where the Sceptre had once rested. But instead of bouncing off of the empty alcove, the object burst through a sheet of ice shattering it into thousands of pieces. The ice had been set in front of the alcove like a mirror, carefully placed so as to reflect certain other objects also just as carefully placed. And it had all been done to create a simple illusion. For behind the reflection of an empty alcove rested a magnificent rod of shining gold and brass and silver. But Jarlath could not appreciate its impressive grandeur, for he was blind.
Three days later... The light of a new dawn spread out over a town left in shock and disarray. During the night a beast had come into its midst and had preyed upon the people there as if they were cattle. Smoke hovered in the air along with the moans and cries of the injured and the dying. The shanty town looked as if it had been attacked by marauders, though truth be told most of the damage had been caused by the men who lived there in their desperate attempts to fight off or flee from the monster that had descended upon them from the Waste. Only the harbor and the shipyard remained untouched, for they were the most heavily guarded sections of Smuggler's Cove and housed the stronghold from which the overlords of this small hell weilded their power. And at that very moment those very same men were gathering the people together. "This is our home!" the greatest of them yelled out. "And we are family! We have built this place up together and we cannot let it fall! We must stand together and fight! For if we flee where shall we go and what shall we be? Slaves and beggarmen? Will we fight for scraps from the great Houses that rule the world? I say NO! This is our House and here we rule! Now let us arm ourselves and get our heads straight and go out and hunt the beast that did this!" The crowd roared in agreement, but what they did not know was that the beast had already escaped and that coming from the northern Waste was a danger far greater than any single night devil.
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WolfRun
11/23/2000 10:56:28 PM
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