Demoni Vankil, Page 4

  Day 1006. It won’t work. Shiro and I have used up all the Vallen slaves captured on the field of battle. No matter how we try, there is not enough life force even within a giant Vallen to satisfy the requirements to bind the Dark Lord. It simply cannot be done.

  But this is not all. The seals are too fragile. Even the most basic of magic can sever the binding of a rune.

  We are undone and I have wasted my life for nothing. My work has been in vain.

  I have failed.

  -Eamon

  There it is in writing. ‘…to bind the Dark Lord.’ This is the history of the Demoni Vankil. From Eamon I now know that it used rune magic—but I’m not exactly sure how and that it required the combining of the Seven Disciplines.

  I could kick myself. Decades I have searched. For decades these letters have been hidden. DECADES!!

  The story I have sought to tell more than any other… staring me in the face!

  Once and for all, Höbin Luckyfeller will be able to put the fables and assumptions to rest with cold, hard facts!

  I found myself cheering him on. Don’t give up yet. You are so close. Tell me more.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 13: Letter Twelve

  (day 1014)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  King Kimmeldell brought me a visitor today. It was Charles. It seems strange to me - his visits. I am beginning to question what his part is in all of this. I was, however, looking forward to seeing a friendly face.

  But that is not what I saw. In fact, I may have not recognized him in another setting. His neatly trimmed hair is now shaggy and unkept and the once handsome face is scarred, creased and unshaven. Even his eyes had a fire in them that made him look stern and harsh. Could these be the effects of fighting on the front lines of this war since I saw him last? He, we both, have aged a great deal.

  Charles related to me impassioned, the conditions of the war, the devastation and death plaguing the land. Not a single village or city to the south has survived. Mahan now controls Tämä-Un and the Prime Gate.

  You will be surprised to hear what happened next, my dear. For you probably believe it isn’t in either of our nature.

  We contended bitterly against one another. Charles has been most unkind about my completing this work and the time it has taken. He kept repeating that it would work…and that I must make it work. I tried to explain the limitations of the runes, but he won’t listen to reason. He became red faced in his anger, and raising his voice to me said my results were unacceptable and my attitude deplorable. His judgements of me are unforgivable for I, too, as you know, have suffered and sacrificed a great deal. I can do nothing when I have nothing! I will not be held responsible for this failure. He then tried to make me swear I would not give up until I had succeeded. But I would not.

  Maybe I overreacted, being frustrated over the current state of this work and he being worn out from his labors. I know not. Whatever the cause, he’s gone now.

  Maybe my part is over and I will be coming home soon.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  P.S. Gratefully, Charles had not left. He is the last person I want to be at odds with. It appears he took my words to heart and has been in council with King Kimmeldell.

  Charles announced that he believed the Kutollum possessed the answer to our problem and then the dwarf King reverently placed a jeweled case before me, which made me leery.

  Ethany, it was a Lanthya! A most prized possession of this race and King Kimmeldell gingerly handed me the shard to use with the runes. He assured me that no less a cause could have compelled his people to part with it. At first touch I could feel the power emanating from it, even though it was smaller than the other crystals we have been using. I wonder also if he knew that if the Lanthya had enough life force it would never return to his keeping and we would still need two more. How can such a feat be accomplished? I felt sorry at that but chose not to mention it at this time.

  I gave the shard to Shiro for study and to practice upon and we resumed our experiments the following day. Shiro shouted with excitement when he channeled the energy from the crystal into the seal of the rune. There was no limit to its power! Four insignificant runes were created and activated without requiring a single moment of our own lives…

  Charles may have saved us all.

  There are no historical records on the Lanthya, even though historians know they exist. I have seen one myself.

  Legend says the Lanthya fell from the skies, a gift from the Gods. An actual piece of their own home world, intelligent and filled with wisdom, sent to teach us and help us.

  Unfortunately the people of the Elämä bickered and fought over who was to ‘own’ the Lanthya and bloodshed ensued. So the Lanthya split herself into twelve lesser pieces—eleven shards and a ‘heart stone’, to be shared as a free gift to all people. One piece to each organized ‘clan’.

  This is when the first Mahan appeared, seeking to obtain the shards—and use them to bring all people under his dominion. As the wars grew, Mahan gained several of the shards and became nearly invincible—drawing on the unlimited life force to power his magic.

  But the intelligence of the Lanthya had remained in the ‘heart stone’. The Ithari, she called herself. She chose a humble boy among the people to be her Hero. To be the one she would grant all her power in exchange for his service to the people. He was to be the warrior against the forces of darkness and to defeat the Dark Lord Mahan.

  It was the last battle between the Hero and Mahan which caused the Great Sundering. It tore the world apart, sending lands across the waters and dividing each race.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 14: Letter Thirteen

  (day 1402)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  I awoke this morning to shouts echoing through the halls of Holääfeldi. Dwarven criers bellowing “High King Gaston is dead and Mahan is captured.” Upon further investigation I am told that the Omethiä, the Head Speaker of the Evolu, and Lord Soturi of the Nocturi, have also fallen. King Kimmeldell the Bold, even now, clings to life, having received great wounds in the Battle of Northridge against the Vallen hordes. The finest healers in Holääfeldi were dispatched in haste but there is little hope of arriving in time. Had the dwarves not dismantled their own Prime Gate during the war this would not have been a concern.

  The victory is not yet full enough to outweigh the sorrow and devastation that has settled down upon these people. The dark cloud of grief engulfs them. And I mourn with them. I should never want to forget the moans and sobs of a people in despair when the savagery of war robs them of loved ones in open mockery.

  The pains in my chest have become unbearable. Ethany, I feel I am responsible for their loss. How can I not feel guilty when the greatest blood of this generation has been spilt to buy time for me to complete this work? My only consolation is that it is done. Oh, that you could hear me shout to the mountains—‘I am finally done! You may have no more of our blood!’ After 1402 days since I left you and the girls, do I dare hope that this war is finally over? I have prayed the end would come for years and so much has been lost! Yet, I am reassured it is true—my time has finally come.

  I know now you would not recognize me, my love, for I am nothing but a shadow of my former self. My mind may burn with the power of rune knowledge, but my body has all but withered away in my dedication to this task. Only now do I understand. The ancient Runelords of folklore did not allow this magic to fade into myth. It consumed them until nothing was left.

  The runes have been perfected. All is in order and I am ready. Three runes. One to bind the tongue and one to bind the body. It shall be impossible for the Dark Lord to weave his spells. The third is special. It will bind him to Unrest itself, forged from the ore of that frozen world…forcing that immortal damnation to exist in a hell of living death. I have named it Demoni Vankil, the Devils Prison. The seals have been separated from the marks. They cannot be broken if they cannot be found. We have only to place th
e marks upon him and it will be done.

  I leave this very night for Castle Andilain with a branch of Kimmeldell’s personal guard to watch over me and preserve my life. For of the three newly cast Runelords, only I remain to speak the incantations. We will travel light and fast to the capitol for the ritual where I will have the privilege of delivering the final blow, for this act holds my loathing, my pain, my hatred…and my revenge.

  My warm clothing is all worn through. I have been given a red cloak to keep me warm. I wish I could travel to Andilain by the Prime Gate that my tasks may be done and I can return home. Tell the girls it won’t be much longer. Will you wait for me?

  All my love,

  Eamon

  Demoni Vankil—the Devil’s Prison. Ahem—Yeah. That was my second guess.

  Anxious to know of the end, I unfolded the last letter.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 15: Letter Fourteen

  (day 1437)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  It is done. There is nothing left for me here and I am free to go.

  I have lived a lifetime without you these four years. A life I would wish upon no man, nor ask any heart to endure, though I have few regrets.

  In the time I have labored, I have learned an important lesson.

  Though we have bound the Dark Lord and cast him out from among us, Darkness will return. It is a heavy blow to a man’s greatest work to know it is for naught. We will forever be vulnerable to the weaknesses in our own hearts and our selfish desires. Power, money, lusts of the flesh and any other desire which takes a man, a family, a village or a nation from peace or freedom and places it under the sword is tyranny and the enemy of all. For until men desire to control their own passions, evil has rooted itself in their hearts and darkness will rise again. I am certain of this. And Mahan will return - though it be by another name. Such is the war of mankind.

  My deed is done and I am consumed.

  I am coming home.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  That is the end of the letters. But not a satisfactory end of the story for me.

  I want to know the details of the Demoni Vankil. I wish there was solid proof as to how this was done, but all the records are tainted. Each race involved in the conflict has their own version of the story and in all instances—they point out in painstaking detail (with the exceptions of the Iskäri) that it was their race who actually defeated and bound the Dark Lord.

  The Evolu used the power of the elements to send the dark army fleeing and then cast a great sleep upon Mahan. The Nocturi destroyed the dark armies with such power that Mahan begged for mercy. The humans say Gaston challenged Mahan openly and his archers pierced the Dark Lord with arrows to the extent he was weakened enough that the mägo Orders could use befuddlement and sleep charms on him. The Kutollum say King Kimmeldell and his legion of dwarves decimated the dark army and bound Mahan in chains of enchanted metal.

  …but the greatest version was from my own people, who said they came and destroyed the dark army completely with Gnome-powered robots and kept Mahan sedated by a electric choke-collar. Yeah—the Gnomes didn’t have technology yet…and they didn’t even FIGHT in the war!

  However, the accounts are clear that the Kings of all four races gave their lives to defeat Mahan and his army upon the fields of Andilain. That is in the Book of Four Kings.

  What happened to Eamon? I don’t think I would be rebuked for saying this man is one of the greatest mägo in history and according to prominent records he doesn’t exist?!? After what he accomplished, I’m surprised. Did nobody think that they should write this down? To remember?

  Did he go to Bailish to meet his family? No, somewhere along this trail I read of Bailish being overcome.

  Apparently he met up with Ethany and the children, because I found her letters and Hammel’s puzzle box in the kirk.

  Where’s my happy ending? Full and satisfied? Neat and tidy? Nope. I am going to Andilain.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 16: Höbins Last Discovery

  These letters have sent me to far lands over the course of two years, putting together one of the greatest puzzles in my career and I found myself growing very fond of this Eamon, from Tildan. In the end, I travelled to Andilain once more and gained permission directly from King Robert III to study the records of the Church.

  I had missed something.

  It took a few days for me to remember this all started with the Church decades ago when I was asked to oversee a kirk excavation site. I forgot to access the most obvious resources available to me: the Brotherhood. The records independent from the rest of the world and protected by the power of the crown.

  It was law that for anyone condemned to die a priest of the Brotherhood would be present to be a witness and record all that was done. Mahan did not die, but he was being condemned…which meant there was most likely a priest present and recording during the event.

  I was feeling embarrassed. Could it actually be this simple? To quench the burning desire to know how Mahan, the greatest evil of all had been bound and exiled. And to piece together the fragments of a life which had become a friend to me. A friend by the name of Eamon.

  Brother Owens journal states:

  “Old age has come too soon for me. I fear that this request of Queen Älodiä may be my last opportunity to serve her. Alas, King Gaston is dead. I administered to his burial myself. I am old and worn and unable to be the man I once was but still I stand by our Queen in this mournful hour in defiance of darkness.

  “We are gathered around the Prime Gate in Andilain. Being created first, it is the strongest. There are none here who are not necessary to the ritual. Mahan is in the center of the platform. None are permitted to stand near the prisoner, only the Gnolaum and the mägo, exerting their powers to keep the devil quiet and still.

  “There is an older man, pale, withered and hunched in a red robe working with the Kutollum in stoking a fire just aside the steps of the Gate. There are three irons in the fire. We wait in hushed silence for the man in red to begin.

  “The Dark Lord begins to struggle and cries out to the Gnolaum, ‘Would you curse a wayward friend?’

  “I do not understand but the Gnolaum was taken aback as the Dark Lord starts to laugh.

  “The man in red looked to me as he took one of the irons from the fire. ‘I am ready.’

  “I ask if he would like to have his name recorded. He said ‘no’.

  “Two Kutollum take the other irons from the fire and we follow the man in red up the stairs and to the devils side. He examines the iron in his hands and then leans down to the devil’s ear and I am forced to follow.

  “‘For this moment I have sacrificed all I have ever had to give.’ And without a moments hesitation, he thrust the burning iron into the devils forehead, chanting words I cannot recall or identify.

  “The hysterical laughter turns to screams as the man in red leans in hard. A scream which rends the very fabric of nature. I can smell the stench of burning flesh.

  “Trees within the courtyard split in twain and the ground rocks and trembles. The Gnolaum calls out to the man in red but he is unmoving. I question if this is really necessary. He only smiles as he pulls the iron from the wound, casts it aside and holds out an open hand to the Kutollum. I am stunned to see the flesh completely burned away and the marks seared into bone.

  “The Dark Lord’s screams grow with each touch until I fear the world will rip asunder. Three times is the devil branded thus, but as the third mark penetrates the devils flesh, silence falls upon us. The ground is still and though evil thrashes, eyes wide in pain and terror, he cannot scream.

  “The Gnolaum speaks the words and the Prime Gate is opened. Through the portal I can see only darkness. The devils body rises from the alter, an invisible force pulling him violently into the void, but still being restrained by chains.

  “The man in red whispers so only the devil and I can hear: ‘From darkness you came, to darkness you wil
l return.’

  “With a snap of his fingers the chains of the alter release their captive. The contorted body of Mahan is cast into the darkness, his eyes wide with a terror I cannot even imagine.

  “The Gnolaum closes the gate and all is silent. There are no cheers, no laughter, not a sound of nature.

  “The war has ended and the enemy vanquished. I turned to speak peace unto the man in red but he was walking away. I never saw him again.”

  So where did Eamon go? I could only assume to find Ethany and the children, which would lead to the kirk excavation.

  It wasn’t long before I located the personal journal of the priest of the kirk in question. There was a note on the box from the Church that caught my eye:

  “Contents: Journal of Brother Drydan, Book of Songs, Laws of The Brotherhood, …one red puzzle box (missing)”

  Woops. Brother Drydan. He seemed determined to have his journals endure. I say this because none of his records were committed to paper but rather on brass sheets bound together by simple metal rings. Interesting, maybe clever. Probably a former blacksmith. Anyway, I didn’t find what I thought I would.

  “I found an old man in red robes today, turned face down and nearly frozen to death not more than a hundred feet from my doorstep.

  “Oh, that I would have heard him! Seen him! I could have saved him. All through the night I prayed and worked to brake his fever, but it would not. Death was determined to have him. May the Gods bless his soul for the sufferings he must have endured along this long road alone and away from his loved ones.