Wisdom and Wonder - Chapter 31
Theirs is but one story in this vast and distant world.
But let this be as it may be,
I have shown the way to singers,
Showed the way, and broke the tree-tops,
Cut the branches, shown the pathways.
This way therefore leads the pathway,
Here the path lies newly opened,
Widely open for the singers,
And for greater ballad singers,
For the young, who now are growing,
For the rising generation.
-Kalevala: The Land of Heroes
“No!” Kunuunnguaq gasped as he saw the dark clouds and black lightning spew from the island. The great evil! It was waking. But how? The other sentries howled and heaved with fear and disbelief. They knew, they’d been told for generations the danger that was sealed by the Tutuatuin. And now, despite their stalwart devotion to protecting the island, they had failed in their task. There was only one possible explanation.
“Men!” Kunuunnguaq bellowed, calming their fear with his stern and thundering voice. When they turned their attention towards him, his expression was grim, but his eyes gleamed with the same determined assurance that commanded such respect from his fellow sentries.
“Sound the war-drums,” Kunuunnguaq growled. They may have been betrayed, but they would cut down every last one of those evil-doers before they could do any more harm.
“What was that?” Erin steadied herself as she felt the earth tremor beneath her feet.
“Oh no!” Saoirse gasped as she turned back towards the cathedral.
Oh no indeed, Yann gazed at the black lightning shooting from the tower’s top like a cannon blast as storm clouds formed within the atmosphere.
“What’s going on?” Julia and Raul rushed out from the banquet hall.
“Tar-Cruorem!” Erin explained. “He’s escaping!”
“But… I don’t understand!” Saoirse cried. “We should have had more time. The seals, everything was in order when I checked!”
“It’s alright, Saoirse,” Raul clasped her palm tightly. “Now that we have the Keys, we can reseal him, can’t we?”
“Where’s Morien?” Erin asked.
“I… I don’t know!” Julia said. “I thought he was with you. He was going towards the cathedral when he left.”
“Saoirse!” Tituba leapt to the guardian’s side. “Do you hear that?”
The sound of a low, sonorous drumming noise could be heard in the air, with a new player adding to it every moment.
“No!” Saoirse cried. “The sentries! They must think you’ve violated the island! They’ll kill you all!”
“Um, guys?” Erin interjected.
“Not if we seal Tar-Cruorem and stop all this!” Raul shouted.
“Guys?” Louder now.
“But how do we do that?” Usuff yelled.
“EVERYONE!” Erin bellowed, and all at once everyone was silent.
“Okay,” Erin slammed her staff down to the ground. “Julia, Raul, Saoirse, Yann, you’re with me. We go to the cathedral and reseal Tar-Cruorem. Tituba, Usuff, you delay the sentry boats until then.”
“Again, how do we do that?” Usuff asked.
“You’ve got a Spectral Sorceress on your side. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Now let’s go!” Erin dashed down to the cathedral, as her traveling companions followed her.
“You heard her. Let’s move out everyone!” Tituba gave the order, and with a shout, the Esteban crew raced towards the docks.
“Well, alright then,” Usuff sighed. “Come on, men!”
And with that, all the players made their way towards their positions.
“You… you’re lying!” Morien cried. “It’s a trick.”
“NO…” the eyes were twisted in terrified pain. “MY NAME… LON. LON… LIONHEART. ME…”
“But… how…” Morien could hardly comprehend. It didn’t seem real. Of course! The Black-Blooded Baron must be taking the voice of Lon, so as to trick Morien. That had to be it!
“You won’t fool me, Baron!” Morien grabbed the Key of Sea and made for the panel.
“NO!” a dark hand burst through the crystal, and with its enormous talons, it stabbed Morien and Cazador in the chests.
Instantly a thunderbolt of pain surged through Morien, and he felt as though he was being turned inside out and back again. Almost as soon as the pain began it was over, but even the aftershock was enough for Morien to lose his lunch. As he regained his bearings, he saw that the Key was gone, and that he was no longer in the cathedral.
“Where?” Morien whipped his head around, and saw nothing but clear skies and crystalline spires as far as the eye could see. What was this place?
“Please…”
Morien turned again, and saw, his body trapped within a massive wall of crystal, a face he’d seen a thousand times in storybooks and fables. Those swarthy, black curls, that bronze, tanned skin, those kind, Cagliostro eyes; it didn’t seem possible, and yet somehow it was. Though battered and beaten by torture and age, there was no mistaking it. It was Lon the Lionheart.
“You…” Captain Cazador, wounded but not dead, staggered up to his feet from nearby. “Why have you brought us here?”
“Captain!” Morien rushed over to the captain. “Are you alright?”
“Please…” Lon’s cracked lips pleaded. “Just… listen to me, please. I only want to be free!”
“But why are you trapped here?” Morien could hardly believe it. “All the legends say you sealed Tar-Cruorem in here.”
“The legends lie!” Lon howled, and a violent spasm of energy spat from the crystal as Morien saw the Lionheart’s eyes light up with rage.
“For centuries I’ve been trapped here,” Lon hissed. “And for what? For doing exactly what I was supposed to do! When the Black-Blooded Baron terrorized the Aenean Empire, I, Lon the Lionheart, stepped forth to halt his tyranny. For years I searched for the three Keys needed to seal him here on Thule, and when at last we fought our final battle, I slew him, once and for all!
“But you don’t understand! With their leader now gone, all the forces in Tar-Cruorem’s guard, all the citizens under his rule, all the things he had left behind, now every minor lord and noble eyed it hungrily, hoping to use the Black-Blooded Baron’s resources to become the next emperor! Someone had to take control! Someone had to ward off all the vultures! Someone had to rule in the Baron’s stead!
“But the common people are pathetic. Just as soon as they cheer for their liberation they howl and moan at responsibility. Their simple minds can hardly comprehend the sacrifices that must be made for the greater good! So just as I had taken the Baron’s lands and titles, just as I had begun to rule justly and nobly in his stead, I was overthrown, by the very same forces that had helped me kill the Baron in the first place! I was abducted back to Thule, and sealed in the Baron’s place, like some common criminal! What was I supposed to do? Just sit back and let the empire descend into warfare and strife? I had cut off the monster’s head, but there was still the rest of the beast to kill! Someone had to step forward! Someone had to take command! Who else could have done the things I did? Who else wouldn’t have simply given up after all the sacrifices I had to make? Who else could have been the hero in that story?”
“You…” Morien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Here was Lon. Lon, the Lionheart. Lon, of the Twelve Valiants. Lon, Morien’s favorite hero. All this I did for you, all this because you believed in me. How could the man Morien had looked up to, the hero he had idolized, the legend that had fulfilled him and sustained him for so many years, how could he be standing there now, a frothing, raving madman? It couldn’t be true. It had to be some trick, some spell, some ploy by the Black-Blooded Baron to catch Morien off his guard. It couldn’t really be Lon, could it? It had to be someone else, anyone else, it simply couldn’t be him!
Could it?
“I only want my freedom,” Lon moaned. “I only want my freedom and my revenge upon those who bound me here! Their heads shall mount my wall! Their bones shall build my throne! And their love shall be mine at last, at long last! Everyone will love me! Everyone!”
No, Morien fought back the tears that were starting to form in his eyes. Even if it was Lon, even if it wasn’t a trick, this man, whoever he was, was too far gone. Whether it had happened before or after his sealing, his mind was now warped and twisted beyond repair. He could not be saved.
“I… I won’t let you leave,” Morien did his best to steady his shaking knees and squeaking voice. “I won’t let you go out and kill all those people.”
“You must!” Lon sobbed. “You must let me leave! I have been trapped here for centuries, fully aware of time’s passage! The only thing I can live for now is revenge. I must have it! You must let me have it. I beg of you!”
“N-no!” Morien squeaked. “I can’t!”
“Th-then…”
Slowly, the crystal began to crack, as Lon’s eyes widened with disbelief and betrayal.
“Then…”
More and more, the cracks began to grow, as his resolve grew only stronger.
“Then…”
And then the crystal shattered.
“You shall be the first to die,” Lon let loose a blast of magic, too fast for Morien to dodge. As soon as he saw it coming, Morien knew it was the end.
“No!” With one last gasp of energy, the captain shoved Morien out of the way, and took the full brunt of the blast.
“Captain!” Morien cried, as he saw the charred and lifeless corpse fall to the ground.
“No!” Saoirse cried as she rushed into the cathedral and examined the panel before her. “The seals, they’ve almost broken!”
“It looks like two of the seals are in place,” Raul eyed the red and green beams that were still streaming into the crystal. But large chunks of the rock were still falling to the ground, as the dark energy began to bleed out and pollute the surrounding area.
“Then we just need to put the last one in!” Erin prepared a chant.
“Wait!” Saoirse pressed some buttons on her panel, and a chalice arose from the tower floor’s center. “After that, we need to place an Angelic Sphere directly beneath the crystal. He needs to be fully charged though, or else it won’t work.”
Well, Yann removed Hobie from his charging station. He was sure they would manage somehow.
“I guess we’ll take care of the Keys,” Julia and Erin nodded.
Yann had the Sphere.
“Then Raul,” Saoirse turned to the sailor. “I need you to take the panel while I help with the Sphere.”
“Me?” Raul was surprised.
“Yes, Raul. We’ve gone over the appropriate commands you need to input before. And if the Sphere doesn’t have enough power, I’ll need to use my own.”
“But that’ll kill you!” Raul cried, before a hand on his shoulder silenced him.
Relax, Yann smiled. His worry was misplaced.
“Nnn, what’s going on?” Hobie awoke.
“No talk-time, Hobie.” With a chant and a sneeze, Erin’s limbs surged with power. “Right now we’ve got a world to save!”
“Of course we do,” Hobie sighed. “Things can never go the easy way for us.”
“This is insane,” Usuff grumbled from the Argo’s quarterdeck. “A whole fleet of ships versus two little boats. How are we even expected to slow them down?”
“Sir!” a sailor pointed towards the Esteban. “What’s she doing?”
“Hm?” Usuff turned to see Captain Tituba sitting cross-legged at the center of her deck, slowly and deliberately chanting.
“Spirits of the Spectrum, your servant Indigo calls for your aid,” she chanted. “Those who fill the océan’s depths, those who color the midnight sky, those whose dye the emperors wore, I call upon you!”
And a third, deep blue eye opened upon Tituba’s forehead, as a massive tidal wave erupted from beneath the Argo and Esteban, and the two boats were propelled onto the oncoming fleet.
“What the-?” Usuff bellowed. “Captain Tituba! Have you lost your mind!?!”
“Don’t worry!” Wren called out to the frightened first mate. “Tituba’s magic’ll protect us!”
“Oh, Ar-Rahman,” Usuff muttered, before yelling “Men! Brace for impact!”
“Captain…” Morien moved towards Cazador in a trance. Everything was happening too fast. It had to be a dream. The captain couldn’t really be dead, could he?
“I’d intended that blast for you,” Lon’s cold eyes glowed as he stood over his victim. “Still, he would have died eventually.”
A sudden surge of rage erupted from Morien’s belly, and he let loose a bestial howl. How could he have been so stupid? The captain was dead, and it was all his fault! His blood was on Morien’s hands, and all because of his own sheer stupidity!
No, Morien’s anger turned upon Lon. Not his fault. That monster! With a warrior’s cry, Morien unsheathed his pitiful wooden hilt, and leapt upon the fallen hero.
“Pathetic,” Lon sighed, as a single slap was all it took to send the young boy careening.
Morien cried out in pain as he slammed into the ground, and his wooden training hilt was tossed aside. Tears of pain and fear began to fall, as Morien clutched his cheek to feel fresh blood dripping down it. This couldn’t be happening. He kept saying those words, and yet still it was true. He was powerless. There was nothing he could do against an enemy that strong. The jinni, Bluebeard, the Chevalier, Gloriana, even the mighty Zahhak seemed paltry in comparison to the Lionheart’s awesome might! There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
So Morien ran away. Sobbing and gasping for air, Morien’s legs tightened and twisted in his frenzied, panic-stricken flight. And all the while, Lon merely laughed.
“There!” Julia pointed from her piggyback position as Erin raced up the spiral staircase. “I can see the Key of Sea! It’s just by the panel!”
“And Morien?” Erin did her best to dodge the lightning bolts that shattered and shook the staircase around her.
“I… I can’t see him. Maybe…”
Beneath them, Yann and Saoirse prepared to place Hobie within the chalice.
“Can’t you do it now?” Raul asked from the panel.
“No,” Saoirse shook her head.
“Only after the Keys have been placed in their proper position,” Hobie added.
Just then, a newfound spurt of dark energy burst forth from the crystal, and grim, shambling shadows mixed with the pieces of rock that had fallen to make golems guarding the staircases. Erin and Julia screeched to a halt as one such golem formed before them, and as it raised its fist to strike them down, Erin shoved her friend off to the side.
“I’ll take care of this, Julia! You handle the Key!” The witch’s staff clanged against the fist to shatter the rock that gave it form.
“R-right!” Julia did her best to navigate between the colossus’ legs and make her way up the stairs once more. Seeing that its prey was getting away, the golem turned to stomp on Julia, before Erin grabbed and dragged it by the neck to topple it down.
“Oh no you don’t!” Erin leapt away just before the rock creature shattered against the ground, and as the dust began to clear, the young sorceress turned to make sure everyone was alright.
“Sorry about that,” Erin said, once she saw Saoirse, Yann, and Hobie still intact.
“It’s alright,” Saoirse coughed.
“Yes, but do try to be more careful,” Hobie sighed.
Also, Yann pointed upward frantically, at that moment there were far more pressing matters to deal with.
“Julia!” Erin gasped as she saw two more golems descend upon the girl, and with a mighty cry, the witch leapt to the aid of her friend.
“Whoa!” Julia steadied herself as the golem before her proved too heavy for the stairway and went crashing down, though not before taking some stairs with him. Julia gulped as she saw the wide gap that yawned before her. Before she could reconsider her path though, a swipe from the golem behind her made Julia dash out of the way and leap across the gulf as best she could. With a cry she stumbled and scraped against the stairway’s edge, as the golem’s fist wedged itself in the wall and caused another tremor to reverberate across the tower. But still somehow she managed to cling on, to pull herself up and make her way forward again even as the golem stepped slowly towards her.
“Not so fast!” Erin leapt up from behind and struck a first-class blow to the giant’s face, sending it tumbling down the stairs. And as her friend went down to finish the job, Julia called out an acknowledgement of thanks, before running as fast as she could to the tower’s top.
There, it was almost there. She was almost upon the Key of Sea. She just had to keep running, and then it would all be over. The day would be saved, and Tar-Cruorem would be sealed once more. The heroes would have accomplished their quest, just like in those fairy stories of old.
So where then, the question ate at Julia’s mind even as she tried to focus on the task at hand, was Morien? Where had he gone to? Someone had to have placed the other Keys in their proper position. But they weren’t there now. So where?
Julia did her best to ignore the fear and sorrow that began to fill the gaps of what had happened, but found the task beyond her ability.
Lang strolled through a cliffside field, storm clouds gathering in the sea nearby. The golden hue that permeated this land of dreams was starting to fade, though only Lang noticed it. They were each connected, those celestial spheres, and the latest disruption had sent ripples across them all. Silently, Lang stooped down to clutch some golden wheat in his grasp, and perhaps halt the flow of the corruption. But with a sigh, he found his efforts fruitless. The souls that rested in this plane remained intact, but they would fall too, unless something was done in the one land where Lang could not walk. Worry began to tug at Lang, before a gentle breeze laughed warmly in his ear.
“You really have such confidence?” Lang asked, to which another warm wind responded.
Lang sighed. If you say so, he shrugged. It wasn’t as though worrying would change much. After all, one way or another, it would all be over soon.
Morien did not know how long he ran. On this strange, crystalline plane, time and space were warped and incomprehensible. Morien felt as though he had run for miles and miles, hours and hours, and yet as he looked around, everything appeared the same. His reflection still stared back at him from everywhere, the face of a coward and a weakling.
What should he have done then? Morien wanted to scream. He had no weapons, no allies, no magical protection against the power Lon possessed. He could do nothing, was nothing. There was just no way he could stop the Lionheart, and as the full weight of this realization hit him, Morien sank to his knees and began to sob.
I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. Those words were all he could think as his lungs gasped for air and his eyes flooded with tears and his heart slowly sank to his stomach. I couldn’t do anything. I’m scared, so scared.
A beam of light hit the crystal ground several feet away from Morien, and as the rock exploded Morien was tossed aside like a rag doll. Lon was toying with him. He had done this several times since Morien had first begun to run. At first it had only added to Morien’s fear. But now, as he lay helpless and bleeding on the ground, his eyes drained of the last of their tears, Morien could only feel numb. There, Lon was walking towards him, his gait calm and confident. He knew there was nothing Morien could do to stop him. The only thing now to twist the knife further was to draw this final march on as long as possible. There was nothing Morien could do. He was dead. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. Morien didn’t want to die. His fear had already brought him so low, he hardly noticed as the hilt of Lon’s sword glared into his eyes.
Then a flash of the old story rekindled something in his mind. Wait, Morien remembered. Crocea Mars: the legendary sword Lon had wielded. He still carried it. It was still hanging from his belt. There was a sword, a magic one with which a hero could slay evil. No, Morien shivered. It was impossible. He couldn’t possibly do it. He couldn’t. There was no way. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. But what choice did he have?
Slowly, Morien eased his broken and battered body into a standing position. They faced each other now, the two heroes. No, Morien cursed himself. Neither of them was a hero anymore. One had become a villain, and the other had been a coward all along. But even a coward could have moments of valor, of bravery and courage. And as he tore the saphie from his neck and kissed it for luck, Morien declared this his final act of heroism.
With all the power of his lungs, Morien sang a song to Ar-Rahman, as he ran towards the advancing Lon head-on. With each passing step, each new note, Morien’s resolve only grew stronger, and Lon’s initial confusion slowly began to change to worry. What was the boy planning? Some final ploy, some last deception, one more trick up his sleeve? A thousand possible tactics raced through the Lionheart’s mind, and none of them were true, because the reality was so insane as to be inconceivable.
I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared. The words continued to hammer into his mind as his frightened heart threatened to burst out of Morien’s chest, but still he kept going. Still he kept running. Still he kept charging until at last he lunged onto Lon and drew the sword from its scabbard. And as the blade’s legendary yellow light burst forth in all its glory, Morien’s fear began to melt away, as Lon stared in disbelief. Then, his face twisting in hatred and bile, the Lionheart shot another blast of magic Morien’s way.
“No!” Morien cried, and instinctively held the sword up in defense. But he needn’t have worried. Crocea Mars was blessed, and no evil magic could live in its presence. Like an invisible wall, the enchanted blade protected Morien, and the killing hexes dissipated into thin air around him. At first, all Morien and Lon could do was stare in shock, as Crocea Mars only glowed more brightly and strongly. But then, as realization made its presence known, Lon began to flinch, while Morien’s eyes only grew wider with relish and life.
Laughing, Morien swung his newfound sword at the Lionheart, and Lon faltered in fear. Again he cast a bolt of magic, but again it did nothing, and as Morien inched closer and closer, shrugging off the hexes like they were nothing, Lon began to shiver.
“N-no. No!” Lon staggered backwards, his voice choking. “Stay back. I command you! Stay back!”
Morien could only laugh as he inched closer and closer. Lon had killed Cazador without a second thought, and now he was asking for mercy? It was too much! Simply too much! Oh how hilarious it seemed to Morien then! Laughing and howling, a bestial scream of fury burst forth from Morien’s lips as he lunged towards the Lionheart and struck a blow to his chest. Like a volcano, black blood burst forth from the wound, and Morien was filled with vindictive rage. It was true! It was the Black-Blooded Baron! Tar-Cruorem himself! Not Lon at all! And Morien had to kill him. Yes, kill him, then and there! Kill the man who had brought him so low, kill the beast who had made him see what a coward he really was. It was his fault Morien had run away. His! As the villain fell to the ground, eyes etched with fear and lips begging for mercy, Morien saw now how quickly their roles had reversed, and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Kill him. Kill him then and there. He had to do it. He had to. Morien had heard all the stories. He knew what would happen, should Tar-Cruorem rise again. All the pain, the atrocities, the bloodshed and warfare that would be his fault should he allow this monster to live. Countless dead, just like Cazador, and all if he failed to act.
Was there no other way? No other option left to take? The question nagged at Morien’s mind, but he silenced the doubts as he stood before the bleeding, wounded body of Tar-Cruorem, and raised his sword up high. He knew that he could do it. He knew that he was capable. Something beastly and obscene had been laid bare in Morien’s soul when he had run away. He knew that same villainy would make his aim true, and drive his sword home. Morien stared down at his victim, cowering and whimpering in pain. He had to do it. He had to kill the Black-Blooded Baron. No mercy! No cowardice! No forgiveness! He had to strike!
“Please…”
And Morien saw the man’s eyes, tear-stained and pleading. He saw the scars, the muscles atrophied from imprisonment, the broken, harrowed soul, crying out in pain. Pity made its way to Morien’s heart, but he silenced it quickly. He knew what he was, a coward and a weakling. He was just as evil as Tar-Cruorem. He had to use that evil, use it to wipe out this black-blooded blight from the face of the earth once and for all. He had to! Mercy, courage, forgiveness, those were all things a hero possessed, but Morien was no hero! If he still believed that he was, then he was a fool. Yes, only a fool would spare his foe, after all that had happened.
“Please…” the man whimpered.
And Morien dropped the blade, to breathe a long, sad sigh as it fell to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I guess I’m just a fool.”
And then, as Lon saw he had been spared, his lips curled into a snarl, and he leapt upon Morien to clutch the young man’s throat.
There! Julia grinned as she leapt onto the tower’s top floor, and nimbly slid between the guarding golem’s legs towards the Key of Sea. She could see it, lying there on the ground, just between those two scorch marks where lightning had struck. No, Julia gasped, and for a moment her pace faltered. It couldn’t be. Morien couldn’t be…
A bolt of lightning singeing her cheek brought Julia back to reality. Had the lightning’s aim altered by even an inch, it would have struck her dead. And at that, Julia dried her tears and renewed her sprint with greater vigor. The time for mourning would come later. For now, Julia had to make sure Morien had not died in vain.
The crystal was charging up its energy now. A miasma of darkness began to gather within, as Tar-Cruorem prepared for one final, defensive assault. But there, Julia noticed, deep within the recesses of its ebony core, the energy now had an extra hint of color. A tiny blot of blue, it seemed to be fighting the colorless void from within, with a brightness that Julia found only too familiar. Was it possible…?
“Watch out!” Erin and her choke-held golem fell to the floor, and Julia barely managed to get out of the way in time. That was twice she had gotten distracted, and twice it had almost cost her her life. Julia cursed herself for a fool, and concentrated once more on the task at hand.
But then, all at once, a thousand bolts of black lightning shot forth from the crystal, and though Julia did her best to dodge them, she felt the bolts singe and graze her, before one at last struck home on her leg. With a cry Julia fell to the ground, her leg broken and singed, unable to support her anymore.
At the sight of her now lame and wounded, the crystal’s moan grew more excited, and the lightning bolts converged and concentrated as they made their way to finish the job. But just in time, Erin leapt to defend her friend, and the bolts were met with the staff of a Spectral Sorceress, focusing all her magic in defense.
“Erin!” Julia cried, as she saw the witch struggling against the full brunt of the lightning.
“I’m-! I’m fine!” Erin grunted. “Just-! Get the Key! Go!”
“Come on, come on,” Julia’s leg was completely worthless. She couldn’t even stand up, only crawl towards the prize that she sought. And even as she grasped the Key in her hand, the screams of Erin as her magical defenses were slowly dismantled assured Julia she had no time to spare. With a mighty strain, Julia grabbed the edge of the panel and pulled herself upwards. Come on, come on! She grunted and heaved as she reached towards the slot where the Key was meant to go. And then, just as Erin’s staff shattered into nothing, Julia slammed the Key of Sea into its proper place, and a beam of blue light shot out from the panel.
“Ha!” Julia cackled as the lightning was beaten back, and the unearthly scream of the dark energy only grew louder.
“You fool!” Lon howled as he gazed down at Morien, murder in his eyes. “I should kill you where you stand!”
Morien tried to speak, but found it impossible with the fingers wrapped so tightly around his neck.
“What’s that?” Lon leaned in closer. “I can’t hear you boy! Speak up!”
Morien did not know why the words came to him then, why they were the first things he thought to say. And yet, as he spoke them, he knew they were the only things he could say.
“Know, O Prince, this tale I tell you. Long ago, when the Empire of Aenea stretched across the White Sea, a great evil arose to overtake the land. So mighty was this evil’s power, every man cowered and trembled beneath its glare, and none dared step forward to challenge it. None save Lon the Lionheart. Hither came Lon, armed with three magic Keys to seal the evil away, and a heart that burst with valor. It was he who sealed the evil away, he who brought peace and prosperity to the land once again, he whose story every man should know and remember. Listen, O Prince, as I tell this tale to you.”
Lon stared down at Morien, his grip relaxed and gaze numb. Then, as tears began to well in his barren, lifeless eyes, Lon reeled away from the young man, and moaned deeply. It was a moan of boundless pain and endless sorrow, and Morien could not help but pity the poor, shaking creature that now lay huddled before him. For many moments the pair remained as they were, with Morien standing silently over the wailing figure beneath him.
“Do… do you know…?” Lon gazed back up at Morien. “I’d forgotten how that story began.”
“It isn’t over yet,” Morien reached out his hand. “You can still decide its ending.”
Lon stared blankly at the hand before him. Such a simple act of kindness was so alien to him now. And yet, as he gazed upon Morien’s merciful face, a tiny spark of remembrance flickered in his eyes, and with a smile, he took Morien’s hand.
“Merciful Ar-Rahman!” Usuff cried, as he and the sentry he had locked blades with turned to gaze back at the island.
All around them, the crews of the Esteban and Argo were locked in combat with the sentries, their swords clashing and magic blasting across both boarded ships. But then, as they saw the beautiful light before them, everyone began to drop to their knees and pray. Usuff felt a heavenly warmth pass through him, and he knew he was in the presence of Ar-Rahman’s holy light. He did not know how it was possible, how it had come about, but he knew it to be true.
And in Mycenae, Zeus’ lightning crashed while Jove’s thunder roared in Aenea. On a hill in Parody, a laughter rang aloud while a dragon’s roar resounded in Normandy. And in Hibernia, a chanting began while Morgana’s music played in Avalon. From beneath the océan’s depths, a soul not found by Gogmagog at last awoke. And as the olifant horn sounded in Romany, an Ibery mountain began to rumble awake. From his throne room in Vanaheim, King Holger heard the call and bade his court farewell. And in the sea, on a tiny, copper boat, a wizened, weathered man stood up, and knew that it was time.
Morien could hear the song as the crystals shattered all around him. A medley of eleven pieces, it filled him with joy and restful peace. And yet, he could tell the song was incomplete. Another piece, a twelfth part, was needed to fulfill the medley. And as he saw the figures floating down towards him, Morien knew where the song was coming from, and what the singers wanted.
“I don’t believe it,” Morien whispered. And yet, there they were. Perseus, Aeneas, Pryderi, Fionn mac Cumhaill, Beowulf, Orlando, Bernardo del Carpio, Holger Vanske, Amadix of Gaul, Arthur Pendragon, Väinämöinen. All of them were there! The Twelve Valiants, at last reunited. And as Morien gazed deeper into the heavenly mist, he saw countless other figures, countless other heroes from countless other peoples and centuries, all coming down to welcome their brother back into the fold.
“No,” Lon whimpered, and he shifted and shuddered in fear. “It can’t be.”
But as his fellow Valiants reached him and wrapped him in a warm embrace, Lon knew they had not come to destroy him. They had come to forgive him.
“Welcome back,” they said, and at last Lon’s expression began to show peace.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I tried to be a hero. I tried. But I… I just couldn’t…”
“Peace, brother. What is a mighty dragon or wicked wizard to the burden you were faced with? Few could have done better in your position, and many would have done worse. Do not be ashamed by the power of forces beyond your control. Only know that you are loved, and forgiven, and welcomed back into our midst.”
“I’ve spent so long,” he wept. “In pain, and bitterness, and despair. Please, let me know peace.”
“You shall.”
And with a hum, the song began to play a twelfth part, and the light grew steadily brighter, until Morien felt himself disappearing in its glory.
“Now!” Saoirse and Yann placed Hobie within his proper slot, and a heavenly beam of light shot up to join its elemental brethren. The scream grew louder, and the light grew brighter, but right away, Saoirse could tell something was wrong.
“There isn’t enough power!” she cried, and concentrated with all her might. Already the beam was starting to falter, already its light was fading. But as she focused all her energy, Saoirse began to fill the beam with her own lifeforce.
“No!” Raul howled. “Saoirse!”
“It’s the only way, Raul!” Saoirse wept. “It’s the only-”
But then she felt it. Another power. The power of all her sisters, gone and perished from the earth. How could she be feeling them now? Their bodies were no more, and their souls were lost to the ether. How could they be here now?
Saoirse looked up, and saw the calm, angelic face of Yann smiling back at her, as his own golden hair and eyes began to glow. It couldn’t be. She didn’t understand. And yet, she could feel it.
The beam pulsated and glowed, now with newfound energy. And more than that, the scream was calming down. Where once it had howled and moaned with bestial fury, now it began to merely whimper, before turning into a gentle hum as the darkness began to fade completely.
Then, with a final flash of power from the beams, the crystal shattered into a million pieces, as shining powder fell gently to the ground. All the while, Saoirse stared star-struck and awed.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Morien glanced around, and saw that he was surrounded by white light. Nothing else existed, as far as he could see, save himself and the light. What was this place?
“I see his hope was not misplaced,” a voice said, and Morien looked around to see a man standing there before him.
“Looks like you wound up here a little early though,” Lang glanced sympathetically at Morien. “Not to worry. We should be able to work something out. Although…”
Morien stiffened as he noticed Lang’s icy gaze staring into his soul.
“Yes. Follow me. This way, please,” Lang began to walk, and beckoned for Morien to follow.
“Where are we going?” Morien asked. “And, I mean, where is here anyway?”
“Well, I think the answer to your second question should be obvious,” Lang replied. “Though as for your first question, well, you’ll see soon enough.”
As they continued to walk, the light began to take shape and color. Morien heard a heartbeat, and felt the warmth of a mother’s womb. He began to see and hear lights and sounds, though he could not understand their meaning, and again he wondered, just where on earth were they?
“Are these… my memories?” Morien asked.
“Not quite,” Lang said. “You’ll see.”
And as they continued walking, Morien saw a boy emerge from the womb, his skin so much lighter than that of his mother’s. He felt the pain as the boy was taken away, and kept apart from the woman who had given birth to him. He saw the mother whisper words to her son, as she pointed at a picture book.
“Yiro,” she pointed to a tree.
“Silo,” she pointed to a road.
“Tulo,” she pinched his ear and he giggled.
“Tilo,” she pointed outside towards the setting sun.
And then Morien heard a woman shriek, as the mistress saw the slave woman there, and the mother was dragged away to be whipped and flogged.
“I know those words…” Morien whispered.
And he saw the boy become a man, with bronzed skin and icy, blue eyes. All the ladies in the town would stop to titter in his presence, while all the men gazed admirably upon him. But then the boy’s brother, his hateful gaze Morien could feel upon his own back, and when the man was taken in the night by slavers, Morien could hear the brother’s evil laughter.
The man was on a boat now, an Andalusi galley. On one side sat a young man, no older than Morien, his face familiar somehow. On the other side sat a mere boy, on the brink of death. The man would give the boy his food and water, and go without so that the boy might live. But it was only a matter of time before the boy died. Morien knew it.
And Morien felt the anger and resentment flaring up around him, like a bonfire too powerful to extinguish. Then it burst, as the slaves rose up against their masters, and with an elderly man at the helm, they took the galley for themselves. And he saw them turn to piracy, as their legend only grew more powerful.
“This is…” Morien realized, as the newly-crowned captain gazed directly at him. “Cazador!”
And Morien heard the lightning crash and thunder roar, as the pirates’ boat was sunk, and its crew washed up to shore. As Cazador lay wounded upon the beach, a girl ran over to him to bring fresh water to his lips.
And Morien cried out as he saw that the woman was Pakeezah, his mother, only she was Sanji now, and she was young and beautiful and no longer so sad. She brought Cazador to her home, and with her father brought the rest of his crew to shelter as well. For many months she nursed the captain back to health. For many months they stayed together in that land. For many months, they grew closer.
“It can’t be…” Morien began to feel sick.
They were talking now. Chatting together beneath a silk cotton tree.
“But you’re Mandenka, aren’t you?” Sanji said. “So why? Why cast aside your name like that?”
“Bah!” Cazador spat. “My name is nothing to be proud of. It wasn’t even my father’s! Nothing was sacred to him. Not his pride, not his faith, not even his old name. Back there, as Moreno, I’m nothing but the family’s dirty secret. But here, as Cazador, I am the hunter! I’m the captain every ship fears on those seas. And that name is mine! Taken and made by my own hands. With that name, I need no other.”
“But don’t you want something to pass on to your son, if you ever have one? Something to give to your children, and remind them of their heritage?”
“Tobías is my son in all the ways that count,” Cazador gazed into the distance, where the boy could be seen, now so strong and healthy. “He doesn’t need my name to know that. And Ellis is my father, in all the ways that count. I don’t need his name to know that.”
“But,” Sanji bit her lip. “If I were to ever have children, I would want them to share their father’s name, to know who he was and where he came from.”
Cazador glanced at Sanji in surprise, before turning his gaze away.
“I’m not a Rahmanite. And besides, your father hates me enough as it is.”
“I don’t care,” Sanji pressed herself firmly against him. “I love you. That’s all that matters to me. That’s all I need.”
And so, in the presence of an imam, Cazador was converted and wed in secret. And his crew all whooped and cheered when he announced his retirement from a life on the seas. He wanted nothing more than to farm and raise a family, and as Morien felt his heart swell with such boundless joy, he wept, because he knew what was to happen next.
Another storm, another ship, another salvaged crew. But this one bore a message to the Antilian crown, warning of treachery and an invasion of the capital. Cazador and his men argued and bickered. What had the crown ever done for them? What loyalty did they owe a nation that had enslaved them? But as the navy men pleaded and begged, as they warned of the massacre that would ensue, should no-one intervene, Cazador announced that the dread pirates would sail one final voyage.
As they procured a ship and prepared to leave, Cazador kissed Sanji goodbye, and promised her that after the battle, he would come back for her, and they would live the life they wanted so much. That was when he had written the saphie, and hung it round his beloved’s neck.
“His mouth is sweet and true; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, my friend, O daughters of Yerushalem,” Cazador recited the words of the talisman. “It’s from an old Yebrew poem, a celebration of Ar-Rahman’s gift of love to His children. Think of it, and remember me.”
And the sight of the battle amazed Morien, as he saw the ships and men locked in combat and heard the cannons blare. But this was mere distraction, for at that moment, Cazador was confronting his brother, with rapier ready and smile dashing. Their duel was quick-paced and frantic, neither one showing a clear advantage, until the horns of retreat were signaled, and the brother saw to his horror that the Antilian navy had won. With one last scowl cast Cazador’s way, the brother leapt from the window and into the sea. And Cazador simply smirked, knowing that victory was his that day.
“But… I don’t understand,” Morien muttered. “What happened?”
“We’re entering new territory,” Lang whispered. “Please, watch your step.”
And Morien saw then his mother dragged from her hut, as her father discovered the secret she carried in her belly. For miles and miles she was dragged, bound and blindfolded, screaming and weeping and begging. But her father’s heart was hardened. He did not hear her pleas. He simply tossed her off a dune, and shouted horrid words at her. All sorts of insults he lobbed at her, all sorts of words Morien had heard so many times before. And when he was done, he spat one last affront.
“When your Antilian lover returns I shall tell him you are dead, and if you try to return I shall kill you. I am being very merciful, my child. Leave, and never come back.”
And he ran away before she could remove the blindfold and follow him. Morien’s mother was lost, with no name and no home to return to. So she wandered, drifting across the dunes, as she ate what food she could find, and drank whenever she was able. It was a miracle the child even grew in her womb.
And finally, Morien saw it: a little mosque on the edge of Timjeli. And he saw the imam, out for a sunset walk, before the nameless woman drew his attention, and he rushed to her side. Malik pulled Morien from his mother’s womb, and fed him milk from a bottle as his mother’s breast was too barren. As Morien lay sleeping soundly in his new, makeshift cradle, Malik tended the sickly Pakeezah, as he would come to call her, and asked her only one question.
“The child. His name, what is it?”
“Mor… enn…” Pakeezah faded before she could answer.
With the imam’s tireless efforts, Pakeezah’s condition stabilized, and though she lay in a deep sleep, she remained alive. It was then, as both his new wards lay sleeping, that Malik went over to a book, and wrote down the child’s name as he had heard it.
Morien.
“My name…”
“Yes,” Lang said.
And Morien saw the captain, returning triumphant from his battle with medals and honors, to take his new bride and make her a queen. And he felt the captain’s joy slowly die, as the father explained his daughter’s death, and showed Cazador her grave, and assured him that there was nothing he could have done. And he heard the captain’s screams echo and reverberate across the dunes, as it pounded in his own chest. With nothing left to live for, Cazador returned to Antile, to begin his new life in the navy. It was all he had left.
As Morien stared into the captain’s icy, blue eyes, the visions ceased, and once again he was standing in a field of white. But this time, there was another figure there, who turned dumbstruck to stare in awe at Morien.
“Morien…” Cazador whispered. “My son!”
And as he locked his arms around his son, Cazador and Morien both began to weep.
“My mother… Pakeezah,” Morien sobbed. “All those times she said you couldn’t come back, I never believed her. I never knew why you’d left us.”
“I didn’t know,” Cazador cried. “I swear to you, Morien, I didn’t know. Had I known I never would have left you or your mother. Oh Ar-Rahman, I’m so, so sorry!”
“It’s alright. It’s alright.”
And together the father and son mourned all the years they had lost, all the time they had spent apart.
“Captain,” Lang said softly. “I’m sorry, but it’s time.”
“Time?” Morien sniffed. “What do you mean?”
“I… I have to go now, Morien,” Cazador wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“But… but we only just got back together. You can’t leave now.”
“I’m sorry. I have to.”
“Have you forgotten?” Lang asked calmly.
The sight of Cazador, his body charred and broken, flashed once more in Morien’s mind. And then he realized what this place was.
“I’m sorry,” Lang bowed somberly. “But too much time has been spared already.” Then, to Cazador, “Are you ready?”
“How can you ask me such a thing?” Cazador asked. “After everything I just got back.”
“I know,” Lang said. “But look, someone’s come to take you home.”
“Who…” Morien turned, to see a figure slowly appear. A naval officer, his uniform was that of a fresh, new lieutenant.
“Hello father,” Tobías embraced the captain. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Tobías!” Cazador cried. “You!”
“Oy, oy, oy!” a short, irascible man appeared. “What about me? Don’t I get any kind words?”
“Ellis!”
“Hiya cap’n,” a sailor appeared.
“How’s it going?” another popped up.
“You… all of you…” Cazador sobbed as all his friends and family, all those he had lost before, returned to him and wrapped him in their warm embrace.
Then, one last figure appeared, for whom the others all made way. An old woman, with dark skin and warm eyes. She gazed up at her son, and smiled.
“Do you remember?” she asked.
“Yiro,” Cazador whispered.
“Silo,” Morien said.
“Tulo,” she pinched her son’s ear and laughed.
“Tilo,” Lang pointed towards the distance, where the light was beginning to fade.
“It’s time to go, my son,” the woman said, before turning to Morien and asking one last question.
“Tell me, my grandson, do you wish to know my name?”
Morien paused, unsure of what to say. But then he smiled, and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “It’s alright. Thank you. I know who you are, in here.” He pointed to his heart. “That’s enough.”
“Then until we meet again,” the woman bowed, and the crowd made their way towards the fading light.
“Wait!” Cazador turned back one last time. “Morien! Usuff, and the others! Tell them… forgive me.”
“I will!”
“And… your mother. Sanji…”
“It’s okay! She already knows.”
“That’s…” Cazador smiled. “That’s good. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye…”
And with that, he was gone. Only Morien and Lang remained.
“So…” Morien wiped his eyes. “What happens now?”
“Can’t you hear them?”
“Them? Who?”
And then he heard it. The voices of his friends, chanting and calling out his name.
“I… I have to get back!”
“Obviously,” Lang chuckled. “Before you go though…”
Lang placed his hand on Morien’s chest, and to the young man’s great surprise, a blue flame was drawn from within.
“Hm, yes,” Lang examined the flame, now in his hand. “That ought to do nicely until you come back here for good. Now toddle off. Your friends are waiting. Oh, and don’t forget this.”
As the saphie was tossed back to him, Morien briefly wondered how it had come into Lang’s possession. Before he could ask though, Morien felt himself fade away.
When Morien woke at last, he was falling, but only gently. He opened his eyes, and saw himself descending slowly down the center of the tower. When finally he came to rest in Yann’s outstretched arms, he glanced around, shocked and amazed.
“Where… what happened?” he asked. His head felt woozy, as though he had just been dreaming.
“We thought we’d lost you,” Hobie replied.
“It’s good to see you’re alright!” Erin grinned from where she was busy healing Julia’s leg.
“Julia!” Morien gasped, and he hurried over to where she sat.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, as her heart soared at the sight of him alive again. “It was you I was worried about. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, but… wait,” Morien glanced at Erin. “Where’s your staff?”
“Destroyed,” Erin sighed. “By Tar-Cruorem’s magic.”
“By-” That was right. They didn’t know. Tar-Cruorem had been slain centuries ago. The figure trapped in that crystal had been Lon all along. As subtly as he could, Morien cast a suspicious glance at Hobie. Had that been another truth he’d neglected to mention? Another secret he’d been keeping? Then a glance from Yann drew Morien’s attention, and with a silent shaking of his head and discreet motioning towards Saoirse, Morien realized the real secret-keeper.
“So,” Julia winced as Erin’s magic healed her. “Without your staff, can you still do spectral sorcery?”
“Dunno,” Erin shrugged, before testing it out with a chant and a sneeze. Instantly her robe puffed out and she lost her balance, as she had to contend with the stiff, spherical shape of her clothes.
“Ack!” Erin cried, and Yann and Morien quickly thrashed her clothes back into a more manageable position. “Evidently I can… just without any focus. Guess I need a new staff.”
Yann motioned for Morien to go over to Saoirse, and the young man cast one last glance at Julia.
“You’re sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine,” Julia grinned. “I imagine you’ve got some questions for Saoirse. I’d like to know how you appeared like that myself.”
“Y-yeah,” Morien said. “I guess she’ll tell me that.”
And so, nervous as he was, Morien made his way to Saoirse, who sat weak and weary by her panel, Raul comforting by her side.
“I can bring you some food, something to drink,” Raul said. “You look terrible.”
“It’s alright,” Saoirse shook her head. “I just need to rest.”
“That took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” Saoirse smiled. “Thank you, Raul, really.”
“You know I’m always here for you,” he tightly clasped her hand.
“Um… uh…” Morien wondered how best to interrupt the touching scene. “Erm, hello.”
“Ah, Morien,” Saoirse grew even paler as she stood up and steadied herself.
“Easy now,” Raul grabbed her.
“Th-thank you. I’m alright,” she said. “Raul, I’m sorry, but Morien and I must discuss things. Alone.”
“I… alright then,” Raul glanced curiously at Morien, but did as his lady had bid him and went over to check on his sister.
“I… I suppose you have some questions,” Saoirse said, once they were alone.
“A few,” Morien replied.
“None of the Angelic Spheres knew,” Saoirse quickly interjected. “We erased their memories as soon as Lon was sealed.”
“But why?”
“Because…” Saoirse gazed sadly up at the tapestries and murals. “Human beings need something to believe in, and for a time, Lon was that something. Even if it wasn’t true, the story of his heroism gave people strength, and lent them wisdom as surely as any god.”
“But why didn’t Ar-Rahman object, or intervene?” Morien asked. “His presence is here, on this island, isn’t it? I can feel it.”
“Ohr’s wisdom is ineffable. But… I think, as with all His children, Ohr’s love for Lon was so great, He could not bear to strike him down, even after everything he’d done. Even I do not know why Ohr allows for warfare and strife to continue. But I think… in the end, He wants us to be the writers of our own stories.”
“So He just let Lon be sealed, let him rot in that crystal for centuries,” Morien shuddered.
“Until you redeemed him,” Saoirse smiled. “That is what happened, isn’t it? I could hear the other Valiants’ songs. Had we known all that was needed was forgiveness, maybe none of this would have happened. He was the one we really needed to place our faith in.”
“I guess,” Morien sighed. “This all sounds like one of those clerical matters.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Saoirse laughed. “Still, Ohr’s wisdom aside, at the end of the day, you saved him, just like a proper hero.”
“…No,” Morien shook his head, as he remembered the saphie he still held in his hand, and the maker who had fallen that day. “I’m not a proper hero. Cazador…”
When Morien delivered the message to Usuff, he wept.
“I should have… I shouldn’t have been so stupid,” Usuff wiped the tears from his eyes. “I shouldn’t have allowed our last moments together to be like that.”
“No,” Morien cried. “I’m the one who’s responsible. Cazador’s dead because of me.”
“You sound just like him,” Usuff sighed. “You mustn’t blame yourself. Believe me. I’ve known the captain longer than anyone, and I can tell you right now that he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for his death.”
“I… I…” Morien began to shake, and as Usuff hugged him, he began to wail. It wasn’t fair. Why did Ar-Rahman have to take his father away, just when he’d returned?
The ships had been stocked, the heading had been set, and the sentries had been shown the error of their attack. Everyone, including Raul, was now granted safe passage away from Thule. Everything had been prepared, and everything was ready. Hobie could not cry, but his departure was a sad one, even if it was necessary. Now that his connection with the island was whole once more, he was responsible for locating the other Angelic Spheres, and bringing them home. Erin had also been tasked with a new quest, and though her own magic was now limited without her staff, Tituba’s was not. The Esteban was more than willing to take up a new quest, and to welcome two new members to its crew. Yes, Yann was also joining Erin. His songs and stories would be most welcome aboard the Esteban. That left Morien, Julia, and Raul to board the Argo alone. Once again, goodbyes were shared and tears were shed as the Esteban set sail into the distance.
“And so… you’re alone again,” Raul whispered as he held Saoirse’s hand at the docks.
“No, don’t worry about me,” Saoirse glanced at Julia, waving excitedly to her brother from the deck. “You’ve found your family again. That’s what’s most important.”
“I… I suppose you’re right.”
And then a moment of weakness befell Saoirse, and she felt her lips move and the words come out against her will.
“Raul?”
“Yes?”
“I… I love you, Raul. I love you.”
And as horror and shame over what she had done overcame her, Saoirse turned away and fled. Tears streamed down her face as she cursed herself for having dared speak her true feelings aloud. How could she have dared to hope for anything more than a life of solitude on that island? It was foolishness, mere foolishness.
“S-Saoirse…” Raul whispered, as his sister came down to meet him.
“Ready to go, Raul?” she asked, her face beaming.
Raul turned to gaze at his sister, then to Morien as the young man came down to join them.
“Mija…” Raul murmured.
“…Raul?” Julia flinched, uncertain.
“I…” Raul took in every detail of his sister’s face, staring for what seemed like an eternity. She was a woman now. No longer a child in need of protection. No longer the babe whose face had haunted his dreams of return for so long. No longer…
“…Forgive me,” he whispered, before dashing back to follow Saoirse.
“Raul!” Julia cried, but he did not heed her. He ran, until at last he could see Saoirse in the distance. He called her name, and she turned, hardly believing the sight before her.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “Your family is waiting for you! Don’t throw your life away for me! You-!”
Then he silenced her with a kiss, and she collapsed into his arms. How she had dreamt of this moment! How she had wished it to come true. The whole world disappeared as Saoirse cherished this one, perfect, beautiful moment and wished it could last forever and ever and ever!
As his lips left hers, Raul smiled, and he said “I love you too.”
Then he plucked an apple from a nearby tree, and though she gasped and pleaded with him not to, he bit it, and ate the food of Thule.
“This is my choice,” he said, and kissed her once again.
At the docks, Julia could only stare blankly ahead. From behind her, Morien could only guess her pain. But as he reached out to console her, Julia bellowed at the top of her lungs.
“Goodbye Raul! Goodbye brother! I love you!” she shouted it with all of her might, all of her joy and her love and her hope, and as Raul and Saoirse waved back, she knew that they had heard her.
“It… it’s okay, Morien.”
Morien saw now that Julia was crying.
“It’s okay, because… because I got to say goodbye this time. I got to say goodbye this time.”
And together, on that boat, they wept. And he held her in his arms as they dried each other’s tears. And at last, as they lay together in bed, simply content in each other’s warmth, Julia asked Morien a question.
“So… what happens now?”
“I guess…” Morien thought about it. “Well, first I have to go back to my parents. I’d like to take them somewhere, someplace far away. Imam Malik still has his work, but maybe in Qurtana or someplace he’d still be able to do it. And I want to buy my parents a house, our own house to live in, with our own neighborhood to be a part of. After that… I don’t know. You?”
“Well,” Julia shrugged. “Molly and all my stuff are still in Hibernia. And the Antilian crown still owes me a favor. I guess there’s still a lot to do. But as long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
“Aw, c-c’mon!” Morien stammered and blushed. “I mean, I’d be completely lost without you.”
“I mean it, Morien. Don’t you remember what I said, back in that little chapel? I’ll follow you anywhere you go. Believe me when I say that.”
“I do,” Morien whispered. “And you… I love you.”
“I love you too,” Julia said, and once again they lay in silence.
And as the Argo made its voyage back, the setting sun signaled the end of that day’s story. But as everyone knows, as one day’s story ends, another begins. And though this song of Morien was ending, the story of him, Julia, Erin, Yann, Hobie, and all the others would never end. It would be told and retold for countless generations, until story became legend, legend became myth, and myth became distant memory. Theirs is but one story in this vast and distant world.