Chapter Thirty Five – The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep by Kelly D. Tolman

Posted by admin on May 25, 2009

The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.

Midsummer’s day of the eighth winter after Kyven Halfspear’s victory under Narnal marked my first midsummer away from home while I was still under the tutelage of Captain Torbridge. Two winters later I had managed to stay alive long enough to write another letter home. Though I didn’t expect the letter to arrive, I sent it east with a grain merchant traveling to Anascrag. Though I had certainly added length to my legs and outgrown the clothes my mother sent me away in, even I could see the real growth had little to do with size.

My arms and back became strong under the daily strain of work and practice. I knew how to read strangers and the value of holding my tongue. I could read a trail and trusted myself in any circumstance. In spite of all the changes I still often wondered about my father, and about the curse he left me. We had few chances to find books along the way, but Pascalli encouraged me to read anything we found, and listen to the stories told by locals.

“How long has it been since you came through Last Gate?” I asked Pascalli the night before we reached the gate.

He winked at me before lifting his eyes and staring off into the horizon. “I come this way now and again to check the pass, though never through the gate. You will be the first to come with me since the breaking.”

“Didn’t my father ever come this way?” I asked, surprised.

“No, Scratch.” He said, very simply. “His business would have brought him here eventually, but he left the path before that.”
I understood.

Dina was not with us that final night. She went ahead with the wagon to make preparations at the guard post. I imagine that she wanted to spend at least one night in the comfort of a bed, but I am sure she also knew that I at least would want to have some time alone to sit and think. Dina did not speak to me much, not until we reached Darnuth Keep, and when she did she had taken to calling me Scratch, just as Pascalli did. Some part of her could not let go of the fact that I had been raised a farmer.

“Who was the demon my father slew?” I asked Pascalli quite suddenly enough to startle myself.

“You’ve heard the tales,” replied Pascalli. “Surely you know the story by heart.”

“I want to hear it from you,” I said firmly. “You know the truth, and I feel that you owe it to me.”

“I owe you nothing,” replied Pascalli in a sharp tone that sent a shiver through my spine. He was not angry. After a pause he smiled and set me at ease.
“I will give you freely what you ask. I think it may help you.”

“As you well know there are a number of deities, each struggling for power over our world. But they are bound by the will of mortals to choose for themselves their destiny. Though they may tempt us, we ultimately have power over ourselves. Some servants of the dark deities have tempted mortals to invite them into this realm to wreak havoc in return for greater power. One such demon was invited here by a powerful Kaarum shaman who made a pact with this demon lord.”

“At first we thought it was just another incursion of Kaarum coming down from the north. As usual I headed them off, and sealed the pass, but they broke through and the empire had to raise an army in great haste. Your father was recruited in much the same way that you were. He was literally begging for food when they came looking for conscripts and he just came along.”

“I did not actually meet your father until much later in his career. He was very astute, and very skilled at the art of war. By surviving long enough he rose through the ranks until he commanded a small company. About that time I finally managed to discover the presence of an unnatural force, though I could not tell what was behind it. At Narnal’s direction I gathered volunteers. Your father was the first to offer his spear.”

“I led them over the Northern Crown, and into the land of the Kaarum. He brought us out again, by his wits and cunning and sheer force of will. At every step we were hounded. I was not prepared to face a demon and it forced me to flee. The first time in so many hundred winters Pascalli fled a battle. I think that Tylos visited him during that time of our separation and told him of the spear of Udelf and of its power over the demon. I cannot tell you of your father’s adventures to retrieve the spear because he went alone and he returned alone. When he returned he no longer needed armies to fight his battle. He no longer needed me. Indeed his power far surpassed my own.”

“The war fared poorly for the empire. Many thousands of Kaarum had gathered along the wall north of Anascrag. There he came and began destroying them. Then, in the middle of the commotion a great blackness appeared. The demon rolled out its weapons of darkness only to be repelled by your father’s courage and light. Men and beast fell on both sides from the shock. Finally he thrust the demon down and broke its link to our world.”

“Your father did not speak for many days after that. He never told me what he felt or endured. The spear of Udelf had lost its power. It is the weapon you now bear, now no more than a bit of metal on the end of a pole. He went home, although I believe only I knew where his home was.”

I realized as he spoke that I was crying. So many questions still fluttered in my mind. Suddenly I felt very much like a child and I chided myself. Now I should be a man.

“You haven’t told me why killing the demon wasn’t enough to satisfy Tylos,” I said.

“That is because I don’t know,” answered Pascalli.

Confusion rocked my senses. Pascalli knew everything. He knew the names of little children he could not possibly have ever met before. He knew how long rocks had sat undisturbed in lonely mountain passes and when the last rabbit crossed a given path or when it was likely to return again.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked.

“Just that. I can only guess. I did not become aware of the curse Kyven endured until well after he returned to the imperial service. Only then, winters later, did he confide in me, and it was I who told the village council at Dunston after he refused.” He caught the fire in my eyes and cut me short. “Do not be angry with me. I tried to save him from himself, and I have done my best to save you as well. Judge me later, when you’ve learned enough to judge me properly. I’m not a saintly man, but at least I know my purpose and I haven’t yet wavered from it.”

“Well, if you don’t know, can’t you at least guess?” I asked.

“Anyone can guess,” he said. “In this situation guessing wrong could mean throwing this world into darkness.”

“But you’ve already guessed, haven’t you,” I mocked.

“Yes I have,” he said sharply. “You are going to prove me right or wrong, and I hope before it is too late.” He waited for me to ask the obvious question but I did not give him the satisfaction. “Very well, my guess is that somehow one of the other gods has managed to allow magic to be controlled again in this world and Tylos wants it remedied.”

“But how can that be true?” I said incredulously. “If magic could be controlled again, then you should be able to do any sort of miracle, shouldn’t you?”
“We are talking about guesses, aren’t we?” he scoffed. “Of course the way we learned may not be the same way that magic is controlled today. Tylos may still hold enough power to keep mine from returning. I don’t fully understand the extent of Tylos’ curse on me. Take the priests of Tylos, for example, their ability to heal wounds is clearly magic, but it nothing of the sort that I understand. Their power comes directly from Tylos. They have no power to actually do any healing. It is entirely up to our Lady.”

“I thought it was just automatic,” I replied. “I was healed back near Havensod.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” said Pascalli. “Quite remarkable actually. Most of us are not healed automatically, and then it is usually just enough to keep one from dying. Your experience was unusual to say the least. Either way, there was no control present.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” I said. “Well how did you used to control it, in the old days I mean? If I wanted to make a pig fly, for example, what would I have to do?”

“You mean short of building a catapult?” laughed Pascalli. I laughed with him, and our hearts grew suddenly lighter. “Come with me. Now look over here, you see this leaf.” He held up a broad oak leaf, clearly dead. “Now try to do as I say, although I don’t expect any results as I have already tried it myself a thousand times since I first came on this theory and it didn’t work. Look at the leaf, concentrate on its shape, form, color, smell, texture.” He waited for me to concentrate, which I did as hard as I possibly could. I tried to take in every aspect of the leaf, although I must admit it very quickly grew tedious. He set the leaf on the ground. “Now concentrate on the air around the leaf, how does it move, how does it taste, smell, sound.” I did as he asked. I tried to remember each time I had ever walked through a forest, every time I had played with a fallen leaf or tossed an acorn aside. “Now, listen for the voice of the leaf and the voice of the air, like a murmured whisper in a language you do not understand coming from far across the mountains. Do you hear it?”

I listened for a moment and had opened my mouth to say “No,” when I caught a faint something, like the wind blowing through the boughs of a great tree, but it was coming from nowhere. I knew it came from the leaf. “Yes,” I said.

I did not see Pascalli’s reaction. I had not broken my concentration. The intensity of the leaf’s calling seemed to grow as I yearned to understand it. I bent my thoughts and will towards it. Pascalli’s voice quivered as he spoke. “Reach out with your mind and heart and ask the leaf to lift. Ask the air to push it.”

I asked, I concentrated, and suddenly the leaf began to hover a few centimeters off of the ground. My jaw dropped. My concentration shattered.

“I don’t believe it,” said Pascalli.

“Was that magic?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“It wasn’t a catapult,” he replied, his tone somber.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman

On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirty Six

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