IV

 

We were sitting late one afternoon in the back room of Hagensfeld's shop. The mysterious warrior who had come to our aid turned out to be a paladin from the Templar Order – guardians of the Temple of Kharonaey the White Lily, located on the mythical island of Terra! We all gasped in disbelief. Every child had heard the tales and legends of Terra, but no one believed in its existence. It was said that only those bearing the mark of an archangel could reach the island. The path and location of the island itself were unknown. Over time, people lost faith in the legendary island's authenticity. Only thanks to the elves and their tales did the memory of the land of Indhirland on Terra survive to this day. The knight stared wearily at the hearth. His name was Khail Walverde. He had been sent to prevent our would-be tormentor – the sorcerer Xenor – from his mad quest to awaken dark forces. With their help, he and his followers sought to restore the old order, when the chaos lord Asthar ruled the lands. Sipping tea mixed with mint leaves, we listened captivated to the paladin's tale. He spoke with sadness in his voice as he followed the sorcerer's trail from the southern lands of Lhydia, through the warlike tribes of Hed, the dragon mountains of Alden, and finally to the kingdom of Windhir. Centuries ago, Asthar was defeated in the Battle of Hedon, and the artifacts that gave him the power to control darkness were hidden throughout the lands. The archangel sent by the gods who defeated the demon lord entrusted custody of Asthar's insignia to King Max de Werieux of Indhirland. The king founded the Templars of the White Lily. For centuries, the order guarded the secret. However, time has obscured the truth about its purpose. The ignorance of successive Grand Masters contributed to the fact that, after many years, no one paid any attention to the wanderer who arrived at the Kharonaey temple as a researcher of ancient history. He bore the sign of an archangel, so he was accepted by the elves, and no one hindered him in his studies. He was intrigued by the old books and manuscripts stored in the basement of the order's library. Over the years, he became known as a talented adept of magic. He earned the respect and affection of the paladins by curing the Grand Master's son of a particularly dangerous form of consumption, for which he received the title of Keymaster of the Order. No one suspected the kind and modest mage of having himself caused the child's illness, for which even the greatest druids and priestesses could find no effective cure. Only the shock of the deaths of three keykeepers in a fire in the library's catacombs and the ensuing mysterious disappearance of the mage drew the attention of the temple's dignitaries. The university's grand astrologer read the signs in the sky and was the first to raise the alarm. The Grand Chapter of the Order assembled and, to their horror, discovered the true purpose of the magician's studies. For all these years (and there were six of them), the magician had cleverly concealed his true nature.He made mistakes, and some of his notes were found at the scene of the fire, revealing the true purpose of his visit. So confident was he that he failed to properly cover up his activities. His notes revealed that he was an emissary of a dangerous sect worshipping the serpent god from distant ASHYRIA, and that he dabbled in forbidden magic—necromancy. The decision was immediately made to send a pursuit of the madman. The secret guardians of the artifacts were also warned. However, the strength of the mage, who had already revealed himself as Asthar's heir, was underestimated. The power the sorcerer wielded, which grew greater with each passing day, was also underestimated. And so, more and more guardians, noble humans, elves, and dwarves fell victim to him. He also did not hesitate to battle the fearsome dragon Gwillzeth, whom he defeated in his lair in the Alden Mountains. Now he headed north, where the last seal, guarded by an old witch, lies hidden in a small fishing village. It is the last barrier on the way to the tomb containing Asthar's body and last artifact, his mace. Xenor knows that the tomb is guarded by the ice dragon Yendhor, whose will can only be broken by the ring "The Signet of Kharonaey," which I, the greatest fool in the lands, had stolen from the royal treasury. Old Hagensfeld and Lady Rhona, along with others gathered, offered their assistance, but the paladin replied with sadness in his voice, "Thank you, noble dwarves, but you can do nothing more. You have already done much, and I cannot allow you to risk your lives." He then added quickly to cut short any protests. "You will be needed here to aid your lord in the battle that is now inevitable." Expect a storm to come from the north. I'll set out today to try to stop Xenor. My only chance is to kill him before he reaches Asthar's tomb on the ice islands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take a little nap and get ready to leave.That the tomb is guarded by the ice dragon Yendhor, whose will can only be broken by the ring "Kharonaey's Signet," which I, the greatest fool in the lands, had stolen from the royal treasury. Old Hagensfeld and Lady Rhona, along with others gathered, offered their help, but the paladin replied with sadness in his voice, "Thank you, noble dwarves, but you can't help here. You've already done a lot, and I can't allow you to risk your lives." He then added quickly to cut short any protests. "You will be needed here to aid your lord in the battle that is now inevitable. Expect a storm to come from the north; I will set out today to try to stop Xenor. The only chance is to kill him before he reaches Asthar's tomb on the ice islands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take a short nap and get ready to leave."That the tomb is guarded by the ice dragon Yendhor, whose will can only be broken by the ring "Kharonaey's Signet," which I, the greatest fool in the lands, had stolen from the royal treasury. Old Hagensfeld and Lady Rhona, along with others gathered, offered their help, but the paladin replied with sadness in his voice, "Thank you, noble dwarves, but you can't help here. You've already done a lot, and I can't allow you to risk your lives." He then added quickly to cut short any protests. "You will be needed here to aid your lord in the battle that is now inevitable. Expect a storm to come from the north; I will set out today to try to stop Xenor. The only chance is to kill him before he reaches Asthar's tomb on the ice islands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take a short nap and get ready to leave."

He disappeared through the door leading to the living quarters, where Hagensfeld's wife led him. We watched resignedly as he departed. Priest Theft whispered, staring into the fireplace. I thought of young Woodpecker, who had fallen asleep in the armchair and was now curled up snoring. I had offended many people, and I could no longer practice my profession, because no one would want to use the services of a gnome who had helped a sorcerer bring about his doom. I had to go into hiding from then on, because the king would certainly not let me get away with my crime. Priest Theft told me I would find refuge in his temple until the whole affair had died down enough for me to safely leave Charlesdam.

That night, after bidding farewell to the dwarves, I went with Theft to the temple. Mrs. Altersberg took young Woodpecker in and promised to see to his safe return to his family home. Khail Walverde, whose path had led in the same direction for some time, also set out with us. As we parted, he said, "Wish me luck, good people! I trust we will meet again under more favorable circumstances." Then he turned to me, "And to you, my lord thief, I bow, for you have been chosen by the gods. You have done what you must. Do not worry about it. Time will tell who will sit at the table at the great Baethuné supper. Farewell!"

With these words, he bid me farewell and spurred his horse on. We watched his silhouette disappear into a dark alleyway; from there, a cobblestone road led to the city's northern gate. I asked the priest what the paladin's words meant. He explained that it was a greeting for paladins setting out for battle. When I asked what the words about being chosen by the gods meant, the priest merely shrugged and said just as mysteriously, "Times are hard, and every man will have to make a choice. You have already chosen." You stand on the side of the righteous, but they are not outnumbered. Anyone who has even once interfered with the wheels of fate will never lead a normal life again.

He said nothing more, even though I asked him what he meant. He silenced me with his hand and led me to the temple, where he entrusted me to the care of a monk named Hyt. He led me to the chamber that was now to be my new home.

Lying on a hard bed in a cell in the eastern part of the temple, I pondered the recent events, unable to sleep. What terrified me most was the fact that I had a hand in the mad sorcerer's terrible undertaking. My hand, where I must have cut myself during the fight, burned. A bloody V-shaped wound on my forearm. There would be a scar, I thought. I prayed silently that one day I would be able to right what I had been unwittingly forced to do. I didn't know then that I would be granted this, but that's another story, whose ending unfolded in another time and place. Thus ends my story, lived and written by Boniface Lepkie Ręce, for his friends, Bonio.