They draw near to the city of Minstead on the twelfth day after their departure from Onylandun, though they know this not through sight of the former city but because they are intercepted by survivors from the siege. The landscape to the south of the city is rocky and rough, with mountains rising both to the east and the west, allowing only a rather narrow strip of land in the crevice at the feet of the two peaks, connecting the plains to the south and the wide valley to the north, in which is cradled, at its heart, the great and ancient city of Minstead, built along the banks of the river Hûras. This terrain is also an ideal place for those who wish to remain hidden from sight, sheltered in the crevices of rock and in the caverns of stone that pock-mark the sides of the mountains in great number. Here the survivors who fled the city have taken their refuge, and thus it would be impossible for the reinforcements from Onylandun to gauge their number were it even in the full light of day without this suffocating mist of darkness.
Those who fled from the city hail them at a distance, voices in the darkness, at first cautious and then welcoming, as it becomes evident who and what is this great company marching from the south. Their commander, with two men at his side, introduces himself and asks to speak with the leaders of the company. As it happens, the person whom he first addresses is Rorlain, who walks at the vanguard with a torch in his hand.
"Greetings, friends," cries the commander, "for that, I trust, is what you are. The sight of living men like ourselves cannot but be a consolation to us, after what we have seen."
"Aye, we are friends, come at the request of the messenger whom you sent," replies Rorlain.
"Ah, praise the gods. Then I would address myself to your leaders. I am Commander Turic Sylfæn."
"I am second-in command, Rorlain Farâël. Give me a moment to call our commander and the councilor."
When they have gathered—and sent word to the rest of the company to here seek rest and reprieve from their journey—the leaders sit upon the ground or upon what flat stones they can find, and speak together. After introductions are shared, Bryma speaks, "We have heard word from the messenger, but would ask you to share with us in greater detail what happened in the attack upon your city and also how the situation stands now."
"I will gladly share, though little of the news I have to share is glad," responds Turic. "Before the assault, a great cloud arose from the south, spreading rapidly like a smoke on the wind...only there was no wind. Rather, of its own power, or driven by some unearthly force, it reached out and polluted the air until all was turned to darkness. This caused, understandably, some degree of panic and confusion in the city, but it also warned us that something was amiss and indirectly prepared us for the coming attack. Do you know the nature of this darkness?"
"It has come to you all the way from Onylandun," Rorlain explains, "for thence it takes its rise, and we are grieved to see that it has reached this far."
"But what is it?"
"That we cannot say precisely. It was summoned forth by a terrible creature of blackest evil, one who wields power far greater than any mortal. It is he, we believe, who also led the attack against your city."
"I know the creature of which you speak, for I have seen him with my own eyes, though only from a distance. He seems composed of living darkness itself, with wings like some great bat from the hidden caverns of the earth. Any description I would give, though, couldn't really express his appearance. It seemed somehow elusive, deceptive, both terrifying and seductive."
"The very same," agrees Rorlain. "We too beheld him, and after we confronted him at the heart of Onylandun, he cast forth this darkness that now enfolds all of us, and disappeared."
"You said you confronted him?" Turic asks, incredulous. "How could you confront such a monster? None of my men could get within ten yards of him without being slain."
"Well, that is another story entirely," Rorlain begins, "but we have not faced him in armed combat. The confrontation was of a different sort."
"You see," Bryma interjects, "the man with whom you speak is one about whom I am confident you have heard rumors. He is a light-bearer, and it was through the intervention of him and his companions that our own city was spared a fate similar to yours."
"A light-bearer?" Turic says. "We have heard of such, though the rumors said that he was in Ristfand."
"We were indeed in Ristfand, but after the assault in those days, the beginning of this terrible time of destruction, we traveled to Onylandun," Rorlain explains.
"And where are your companions?"
"Two have accompanied me hence, though they bear not the light as do I. The other two, siblings born of the ancient people of the Velasi, have set out on a journey that is of more pressing importance even than our own. It is their light in which I have been given but a share, and it is to them we look with hope for the future of our people."
"The Velasi? So they still live…"
"Aye, in their secret forest home, though they are near to all of us in a way deeper than proximity of the flesh."
"How do you know this? Have you conversed with them?"
"I have indeed. Before our coming to Onylandun, we crossed beyond the Stïeka Mara and entered the Velasi Forest, there spending time with this old and venerable people."
"What marvels are these of which you speak?" exclaims Turic. "But much explanation is needed. Please, explain these matters to me, that I may understand."
And so Rorlain does, with a few comments from Bryma and Senfyr at opportune moments. He traces his journey from his first meeting with Eldarien in the cavern of the eöten to the present day, dwelling particularly on anything that may be of assistance in illuminating the nature of the darkness that they now face and, even more importantly, the light that has touched them and which, moving forward, they seek to serve. When he has concluded, Turic shakes his head slowly, not in disbelief but in amazement. It seems that the bizarre and unusual events of the previous days and weeks have made him more amenable to revelations of the unexpected, and in this case the revelations are encouraging and good, counteracting what until now has been a long and ceaseless litany of ills.
"So you are saying that, in the very time when all of the hærasi of our people are slain, a new king arises to take their place?" Turic asks when he speaks at last.
"Were you to meet him in the flesh, you would speak differently," Bryma says. "For one who steps with so willing a heart into the role that has been set before him, he also has no wish for power or for rule. That, one can tell on the very first meeting. Yet it is also true that he goes forth, not to take up his kingship and to accept his crown, but to confront the darkness in its very abode and its origin, in the hopes that through this his people may be set free."
"Aye, but when he returns…"
"If he returns," Rorlain interjects. "We need to be ready for any outcome."
"As you say...but if he returns, what then?" Turic asks.
"His wish is only to see the people of Telmerion find a new future, a future of freedom and life. That is the inheritance that he gives to us, and I am committed to seeing that realized, whether he returns from his journey or not," Rorlain says, the enthusiasm and ardor in his voice only subtly veiled.
"You know that Wygrec Stûnclad will stand against him," comments Turic.
"We expected as much," Bryma says. "If the messenger with whom we spoke is any indication, he is a man with whom we would have as little dealings as possible."
Running his hand through his hair, Turic looks at each of them intently for a moment, his thoughts inscrutable, and then says, "Sadly, many here would agree with you."
"What do you mean?" Senfyr asks.
"Wygrec is a zealot, and if we have learned anything about zealots, it is that they cause almost as much harm in their pursuit of a goal as they bring good in attaining it."
"Where is Wygrec, after all?" Rorlain inquires. "I expected to meet him upon our arrival."
Turic shakes his head again, this time not in wonder but in frustration and disappointment. After this gesture, which seems an unconscious way of communicating what he does not feel either capable or allowed to say in speech, he says, "He has taken a small company of men to try and infiltrate the city and free those who are imprisoned there."
"He...what?" exclaims Rorlain. "With how many men does he do this?"
"With three hundred," Turic replies. "He hopes to gain advantage through stealth rather than through arms. Such tactics have long worked in the battles fought during the rebellion."
"But these creatures of darkness—the eötenga—they are far different than living men," Senfyr says. "Surely you know this, having faced them yourself."
"I sit here before you now, do I not?" is Turic's terse response.
"That you do," says Bryma.
"But even if his plan is folly—or at least dangerous—I would not allow him to walk unprotected unto his death and the death of those under his command," continues Rorlain. "How long ago did they depart for this covert operation?"
"But this morning," answers Turic. "It has been not yet six hours since they left, though that is precisely how long it takes to get from here to the city."
"So you say that there are people who remain in the city, alive but taken captive?" Bryma inquires.
"Aye, that dark creature of whom you spoke made sure we knew this fact," answers Turic, but then, more uncertainly, "unless of course it is a deception."
"It well could be," sighs Senfyr.
At this moment Rorlain groans in anger, burying his head in his hands, and he is not alone in this emotion, though he is the only one to express it so openly. When he raises his head again, he says, "So we have two choices, do we not? We can mount an assault with all haste, in the hopes of rescuing those whom—we must trust—are held captive in the city, and also of aiding and abetting the small company under Wygrec Stûnclad. That is one option. The other option is to bide our time and to seek another way to gain entrance into the city, and, as is our deepest hope, to retake it."
"Aye, that is how I see it," Turic says. "But what good would waiting do? Are there any other options than direct assault with the numbers that we now have?"
"We sent messengers asking for aid to other settlements," Bryma explains, "but there is little hope that any shall arrive within a time that would be helpful to us. We ourselves departed immediately upon receiving your call for aid, and so at best the messengers that we sent have just arrived at their destinations."
"What about any other plans than direct assault?" Turic asks.
"You know the city better than we do," Rorlain says. "Is there any other way we can hope to rescue the prisoners?"
"Not that I know of. The city is built on opposite banks of the river, with many bridges connecting the two sides. Considering the fact that we only have guesses as to where any captives may be held, the only feasible course to free them is to liberate the city itself."
"And yet the city is now our enemy's main stronghold," offers Rorlain.
"Precisely…" Turic sighs in agreement.
The men fall into silence now, each occupied with his own thoughts, inquiring after some solution to this problem or some path ahead that shows greater wisdom than they now see. "Turic, can you tell me about the defenses of the city?" Rorlain asks, breaking the silence. "Is there anywhere that would give us easier access than the walls surrounding it."
"You have been here before?"
"Aye. I joined up with the rebellion for a time. But I have since found a better path."
"Oh really? That I did not know," Turic says, his face expressing surprise, though it is evident that this new fact also deepens his trust in Rorlain, for he now knows that he has stood on both sides of the rebellion, and of Wygrec Stûnclad. Reigning in his surprise, Turic then answers the question, "The walls, as you know, surround the entirety of the city, north and south, with two main gates on either side, through which runs the Finistra road. There are lesser gates as well, aplenty. But the larger gates shall surely be heavily guarded, and they have both reinforced doors and portcullises. Considering as the enemy appeared within the city itself, the city walls and defenses are still in pristine condition."
"But it is also true that the creatures that we fight do not have intelligence as we do," Senfyr says. "They may well be stationed at the gates, but this does not mean that they shall defend the city with the same reason and discernment as would men."
"Let us hope that is true," Turic remarks. "But even so, I agree with Rorlain that another way would be better. And...I think that there may indeed be one."
"What would that be?" asks Bryma, leaning forward anxiously.
"The river," says Turic. "At the edge of the river alone is there access to the city that relies not upon walls and gates."
"Do we have boats to take us across...and in such numbers?" inquires Senfyr incredulously.
"No, we don't. But boats shall not be necessary. For, you see, along the river on both sides of the city there are passageways little known or used. They are spillways built as a precaution against the occasion that the river may flood, to divert its water outside of the city."
"That would be a feasible means of access to the city," says Rorlain. "We could separate our troops into two companies, and seek entrance into the city from both sides, east and west, simultaneously. I could lead one company, and Senfyr the other."
"But can you channel the light to both companies alike, Rorlain?" Senfyr asks.
"It will not be a problem," he answers. "In Onylandun I had to do it for the entire city alone, even for those whom I could not see. Indeed, I was able to do so even at a distance, when I was in the citadel after the main conflict had concluded. My only concern is the strain that it shall place upon Eldarien and Elmariyë…"
"Will it really burden them even at this distance?" Bryma asks.
"The light that I bear does not belong to me. Of course, it does not belong to them either. It belongs to no man. Rather, it holds us all alike, ungraspable and free. And yet it has marked them in a particular way; it has been impressed upon their hearts and their flesh, for our sake. What I find myself able to do is indebted entirely to what has touched them."
"Well...we can only hope that they shall find a way to cope with this, or even to share this gift with you in another manner," sighs Bryma. "For our plan has long been made and it is too late to retract it now."
"And we have no intention of doing so," Rorlain says. "I express, not doubt, but only compassion and concern. We shall all be stretched in the days that await us."
"So it is decided, then?" asks Turic.
"I think so. I am only loathe to lead our people so soon into battle once again," Rorlain comments.
"Yet if we choose to wait, we may lose not only Wygrec's forces, but also any element of surprise that your arrival has granted us," Turic says.
"I agree. Then let us, without further ado, begin our preparations."
† † †
In only a few short hours the two companies set out toward the city of Minstead, walking together for a while before following divergent courses through the darkness, one to the west and one to the east. Those who are not armed for battle remain behind, a great number of persons, both of those who have come from Onylandun and especially of the many survivors who have escaped from Minstead in its fall. A thousand fighters both trained and untrained stay to guard them. It is difficult for Tilliana and Cirien to watch Rorlain go, and so many men with him, and not to accompany them into battle. But they know that they would be meager help in such a situation and would have little capacity to defend either themselves or others. Yet what of the care of the injured and the consolation of the dying? These thoughts fill their minds as they watch the two companies marching away and, in the last moment, they gather up what little supplies they can—bandages, medicine, and weapons for themselves—and run after the troops. As they come near to them, they lock hands for a moment and, nodding to one another, part ways: Cirien to the east, joining the group led by Turic, and Tilliana to the west, joining that led by Rorlain and Senfyr.
Thus they pass on through the dark, hoping that it provides secrecy for them as they draw near to Minstead, though this can be no more than an uncertain wish, since it is impossible to know whether the eötenga can see in the darkness as in light, or whether they see at all. Perhaps, after all, they can see only in the darkness and it is light that blinds them. This uncertainty, along with countless others, threatens to stiffen their hearts in fear and hesitation, but the thought of those trapped within the city stirs them on and enkindles courage within them. Of course for many there is also the nagging sense of futility, the fear that the risk is not worth the outcome, and that they march with heroic resolve into a bloodbath at their own expense. For these, it is only the nobility of spirit displayed by their leaders, and the presence of their comrades at their side, which keeps them moving forward from dark unto dark and death unto death, and, could they believe it, perhaps even unto light beyond the dark and life past the threat of death.
Night has long fallen when they come to the walls of the city, and the companies, under the direction of their commanders, navigate past them leaving a wide berth so as not to be seen. Trees dot the landscape roundabout, sometimes gathering into small copses or even larger groves, and they take advantage of these as best they can to conceal their passage. As they draw near to the river, becoming aware of this fact through the steady sound of running water, Rorlain glances back over his company for a moment and sees the face of Tilliana in the midst of the soldiers. Surprise and fear wash over him, and his heart recoils from the danger into which she walks, though he understands fully her reasons. He waves to her and gestures for her to come closer. When she has done so, he says to her, "I see that you have decided to accompany us into battle, and this grieves me greatly."
"Cirien marches with the other company," she replies softly, clearly uncomfortable with his firm yet gentle expression of concern, which she takes also, even if only in a small measure, as a rebuke. "After all that we have seen, we could not remain idle in the camp while men faced suffering and death. Even if we are endangered in the process, we wish to be at hand to assist in whatever way we may."
"I do understand, Tilliana, I really do," remarks Rorlain wistfully. "I wish that I could command you to return to camp, but not only is it too late now, but I trust you would not listen to me even if I did."
"That is true."
"Then I propose another solution."
"What is that?"
"Remain always near to me, that I may protect you."
Tilliana blushes at these words and turns her head away, taking advantage of the darkness to hide this from Rorlain. Ever since the departure of Eldarien she has felt an increasing sense of fragility and vulnerability, as if, with the loss of his presence, she has lost both a protector and a friend. But this is exactly the truth. In losing him she has indeed lost these things, for he has been all of these things for her, and more. And she mourns for this loss deeply with nearly every waking moment, feeling it more keenly than she could have expected; and the depth of this mourning reveals to her the depth of the love she has received from Eldarien, and also the depth of love that has begun to blossom within her heart in return. With this thought the grief, however, only intensifies, for just as love had begun to sprout and grow within her it was exposed again to the bitter chill of absence and loss, perhaps to wither and to die. This is also why Rorlain's words of care and protection now touch her so deeply and cause her cheeks to redden, for they meet her in the very place of her deep fragility, which has been gripping her heart and making it difficult to breathe even as she steps forth in courage to risk her life in order to be of assistance to her people.
"Tilliana, are you alright?" Rorlain asks, seeing that she has not responded to his previous words.
"Oh, yes...yes, I am," she replies, looking at him again. "I assure you that I shall remain near to you as much as I may, though we shall both have our tasks to attend to."
"Aye, that is true," says Rorlain, "but let us do so together, if we can."
"Rorlain," she begins, her voice soft.
"What is it?"
"I am truly moved by the gesture, and I gratefully accept your offer. And yet if there are any wounded to whom I must attend—as assuredly there will be—know that I cannot remain at your side as you press forward in combat."
Rorlain shakes his head sadly, "In that you are right. Forgive me. I am divided. There are so many things at once that I would wish to do, and yet I cannot do them all."
"Worry not for me, then," says Tilliana. "My life is in the hands of my Maker, and if I am to fall this night, then so it shall be. Whether I live or die, there are those whom I love who await me."
"It is as you say," comments Rorlain. "I pray that I may find the same serenity in the face of death and loss."
With this their conversation must come to an end, as the company arrives at the bank of the river, the stony earth crunching under their feet and the waters now loudly bubbling as they surge full and strong to the west. The company moves in the opposite direction, eastward, toward the city whose walls and buildings loom before them as black shapes in the darkness. When they come to the base of the thick stone walls it is as Turic has said; they find a narrow spillway about six feet in height and wide enough for three men to walk abreast. It is a poor means by which to get an army into a city, but knowing that there is no feasible option but this, they do not hesitate. Yet before entering the spillway, Senfyr turns and speaks quietly to those nearest to him, "Whatever awaits us within, let us stand strong in love for our people, the fallen and the living. It is for them we fight." Requesting that these words be passed on throughout the entire company, he then enters the passage with warriors to his right and his left.