The corridor was bare of adornment or detail, silently reflecting the true nature of Korvantuntari. It was a soulless place, dismal in its existence and foreign to the earth itself. This fortress was never meant to be here, Kieran's thoughts whispered as he advanced forward, his plated boots reverberating noisily with each heavy step. He dared to touch the walls with his uncovered hand, hoping to feel anything- even the slightest tingle of energy which coursed throughout the entire fortress like wind. Nothing but smooth glass replied to his touch. Without a hint of emotion he pressed on and hurried onward toward his destination- the gateway at the end of this eternal hall.
He'd never seen the Ebon Lord- no
image or projection even. He'd been called to the master's
service without ever seeing what he looked like. What sort
of man blindly pledges his life to the shadows? Clearly
Kieran Reiyn was such a man. He'd been given the freedom of
will where others had it taken from them. Those creatures were
nothing more than decrepit husks of their former selves, alive only
to serve a god who reigned far upon the highest peaks of the Gray.
To see the Ebon Lord was to be given substance, Valranar had told
him. It was the greatest possible honor- to personally share in
the Ebon Lord's vision... or be cast down from Korvantuntari in
judgment.
A colossal gate of midnight hue no
different than the walls around him, now blocked Kieran from the one
who’d summoned him. There were no inscriptions to read or
handles to push, it was a slab of pure darkness that barred him from
seeking his answers. That was the trick wasn't it? He was
as hollow as anyone else within this dark mountain- there was nothing
that should separate him from the Ebon Lord. He'd been chosen
to serve and obey. Kieran's purpose lay here, within the
confines of the dreaming dead. The former knight was meant to
function as a weapon- a tool for use by others. Beyond this
gate, Kieran would meet the one who would wield him.
He raised his hand once more,
pressing it into the darkness and was surprised to feel a surge of
heat course through him. It felt like a reminder of what he had
abandoned in life. Memories of spring and summer invaded his
thoughts like ashes scattering in the wind. He remembered warm walks
through the merchant streets of Vesper as the lingering fragrance of
freshly made incense invaded his nostrils. He remembered cool nights
atop the rooftops of Athora, watching the stars flicker in the great
beyond as the moons traversed across the lit sky. Despite all these
glimpses, the warmth felt foreign to Kieran. He longed for another
taste but the feeling had come and gone. The portal faded
around his hand and buckled into the walls, giving him entrance to
the Ebon Lord's chamber. The tingling sensation of heat was
immediately replaced by an encompassing wave of utter cold.
This was not a natural cold.
It was his cold. A true reminder of what the hollow
soldier had become. Kieran couldn't help but admire the Ebon
Lord's sense of admonition. To give his chosen subjects a quick
indication of the life they all once held, only to drown them in the
darkness of the present. An effective strategy to instill
fear before the encounter, he mused as he stepped through into
the final chamber in uneasy trepidation.
It was an unusually large court,
entirely empty and bereft of any sort of application. The
darkened walls were completely bare, save for four sets of buttresses
which rose upward into the domed ceiling overhead. The
unnatural light of Korvantuntari was strongest up top. It lit
the chamber like a bright blue flame, allowing full view of the
room... and him.
At the far end of the chamber
stood the Ebon Lord, unmoving and facing him. Kieran's froze in
apprehension as he stared at the apparition in front of him.
The man was at least two heads taller, a giant by Eiron standards.
His arms lay completely limp at his sides, as still as the rest of
his body. As Kieran slowly approached, he could feel the chamber
pulse with immense energy. This was Korvantuntari’s heart of
darkness.
“Stop.”
The word came from his mind in a
calm and soothing tone. Kieran halted his slow advance and studied
the dark figure with a cautious glance. The Ebon Lord’s eyes were
crimson and burning, staring into the one who had entered his most
secluded sanctum. Kieran quickly realized that the man’s skin
wasn’t dark- it was burnt. His entire body was charred and cracked,
with scars as red as his eyes, running throughout his body. His hair
was black and stood up like frozen smoke. He wore a frayed gray kilt
that hung loosely below the waist. He seemed completely unaware
of his haggard visage. The contradiction of the Ebon Lord’s
appearance shocked Kieran. Here was a man- a creature of such power
and control and yet completely ignorant of man’s basic appeal.
“Speak.”
Kieran didn’t know where to
begin. His questions were suddenly extinguished amidst this man’s
presence. None of them seemed to matter. He stood frozen in place,
attempting to comprehend the situation at hand. He was suddenly
afraid of death- afraid of what this man could do to him. He
controlled legions of sleepers with the power of this mountain. He
could raise the fallen and heal those whose wounds meant death. He
existed for ages in these timeless halls as the world outside changed
with the passing of each moon. The Ebon Lord was deathless and Kieran
was simply a mortal man given unlife.
Responding to the silence, the
Ebon Lord slowly shifted toward the man, almost motionless. He did
not sway his arms nor his body, but remained rigid and still as he
moved closer. Kieran dared not move nor look away, he simply remained
at attention and waited.
”Do not allow your heart to fear
me, Eidolin,” the lord uttered at last in a hushed tone, his lips
almost unmoving. “I have frozen its beatings after all, and made of
you a machine for me.” His pervasive voice did not echo within the
hollow chamber that housed but puppet and master; it shot straight
through the man. It was perplexing, calm and gentle, Kieran thought
uncomfortably.
“I am the salvation that is to
be. Though I think not yours. No. Yours lies elsewhere, away from my
palm. That is what I see. Or do I feel it? The current sways beyond
my control sometimes. You are a rather curious selection.” The Ebon
Lord stopped at the center of the chamber and cast a terrifying gaze at the man, his eyes dancing like candle fire. He
raised his arms theatrically toward Kieran, with blackened fingers
pointing upward.
“I am Dir-Dawaan of betrayal
being. I am he who is of memory and abandon. I am borne of the
sky beneath your shadow, waited till the setting of the moon to
become the now. I have been to where others have forgotten-
to realms of shadow and of night, cast eternal by echoes of
those we tried to follow. I am not the dreamer but the dream in
which you are within.”
The words felt benign to Kieran,
each syllable seemingly meticulously manipulated as it emerged into
reality, producing instantaneous fervor within the man. His mind
raced with correlation and analysis, scrambling through the
comforting understanding of these sounds, and pacing to realize the
happenings of this entire situation. The Ebon Lord manipulated the
unseen fabrics of diction, as each individual sound became split
intonation. The words broke apart in their meaning and coalesced into
multiple suggestions, each one making complete sense to the man and
yet remaining entirely nonsensical. He was the personification of
pure madness, innocent in form and yet unwelcome to a world of logic
and structure. He had a name and face now, Kieran contemplated, yet
he was neither Eiron nor any other being recorded in this realm’s
chronicles.
The Ebon Lord, Dir-Dawaan, lowered
his arms and passed by the silent man, turning to stand at one of the
blank walls that blanketed the room. Kieran felt compelled to follow
him- to stand at his side and watch as the barrier dissipated into
nothingness with a slight hum, revealing the outside world. The
sudden luminosity of the gray sky greeted him as Kieran looked at the
world from the highest peak in Abdulan. He could taste the fresh
clear air and yet somehow, the heavy wind shear that hurled snow down
below dared not intrude upon the two, as if nature itself feared the
one that stood besides Kieran. He looked down and could see the peaks
of other mountains struggling to remain in formidable sight of
Korvantuntari.
“This is your world but it is
not my own. I and mine hail from below the wasted deep, beyond the
ebon sea on which we rode. Yet you cannot even fathom this false
existence- how could you dare see mine?” Dir-Dawaan’s visage
turned towards Kieran, his gaze unflinching. A pulse of anger seemed
to emanate from him, aimed towards the lesser man with critical
assumption. ”Many a man dared question him, Eidolin. Their
bodies lay broken atop the peaks below our gaze.” Kieran
remembered Valranar’s words at this point. He had to speak or he
would quite possibly fly.
“There is much that I do not
understand… my lord.” He replied with what seemed a whisper. My
lord. Kieran hated those words. He recalled his former masters
with hatred and disgust. No matter his road, he was bound to serve.
“You called for me, and I dared answer.”
“So I did, but you are not yet
ready for my choosing, recollector. Your thoughts are desolate and
weak.” Could Dir-Dawaan see his thoughts and memories? Kieran
clenched his fist as anger poured over him. He’d betrayed himself
with the very thoughts that brought him here.
“Yes, you are audacious,
Eidolin, to have dared bring this emotion to Silmacunor… but do not
fear. It is but the miscalculation of ignorance and illusion.
Let me enlighten your emptied heart and show you of my world, the
blighten future that is to be.” Dir-Dawaan raised his hand toward
Kieran as he turned back toward the open sky. “I am endless dream
and darkest night. I am inheritance of torpor and visioned
reverie. Take my hand, child of the wakened world. Let your
sight see mine.”
Kieran hesitated for a mere moment
as he considered the offer. What would he see? Would it break his
mind as well? This was why he was here, after all. It was time to
see. He took hold of Dir-Dawaan's open hand like a mystified child.
His sight instantly burst with
colorful explosion and he flinched back, yet Dir-Dawaan's iron grip
held him in place.
Everything changed. The sky was on
fire, its typical blue and gray ocean replaced with chromatic hues
that painted the world red. Countless floating structures blotted the
distant horizon- like the levitating mountains at Dun'Daro. This
seemed an exact reflection of what Kieran had seen there. Fiery skies
and dark silhouettes floating calmly in the air above. Had the entire
land been identical to those ancient ruins? Down below, each
mountain peak had been flattened as if purposefully carved by
countless hands. The tops housed what looked to be soldiers standing
in formation- there must have been tens of thousands of such figures
adorning the tops of each mountain peak. This would not have been the
past, these ancient mountains could not have taken back their crowns.
He turned to his master, his mind full of questions but besides him
was someone else now.
The charred aberration was gone
and in its place stood a pale man, wrapped in golden silk and silver
plating. The suit of armor was unlike anything Kieran had ever seen-
tight layers of golden fabric clung to the man's body, fitted with
snug silver plating which seemed as thin as the very clothing it was
attached to. The metals had been meticulously applied to the man's
body to retain any and all necessary motion without any impairment.
No single piece seemed to attach to one another- they were fixed in
place by force alone.
The man's face was regal and young
with black hair nearly flowing down to his shoulders. His eyes
however retained that striking red hue which clearly marked him as
the same man. This was still his master.
The red eyes turned towards the
frightened man, his grip hardening upon Kieran's hand. “My world
is one of ash and flame. My body is its reflection in your time.”
Dir-Dawaan spoke quietly, his eyes locked with Kieran's. “You do
not belong here in my world, Eidolin.”
“What... is your time, my lord?”
He dared ask back. Dir-Dawaan smiled solemnly, his face portraying a
reposed sorrow that Kieran could not see before this moment.
“My time is beyond the flow that
is. It is not the before or the after. It is the now. My now. I shape
it to embody everything that has and will occur. You are in my dream,
Eidolin. This is my vision of all that was once not yet.”
“I don't understand, my lord.
Are we in a different time?”
“Do not concern yourself with
time, child. It does not service my dream. This is what must become,
it is that simple. You have not the privilege to see my dream in
full, for you are chosen to be one of the waken. I pity you, Eidolin
for your arrogance will destroy you here. You do not belong in my
time. You seek to find your own dream but there will be no sleep for
you in mine. You will remain greyminded, bound to my service- to my
dream.”
“My dreams are gone, my lord.”
Kieran spoke forcefully, daring to retort at the living god that
clenched his hand with a mighty grip. “They were once my greatest
desire but now I know what I cannot have.”
Dir-Dawaan laughed coldly, his
face twisting into arrogant pity as his laughter echoed beyond the
chamber and through the open world as if it was but another hollow
chamber. “You still desire the dream, Eidolin. You still desire
her. Only true death will end that- is that what you wish from me?
You see my dream- you may have it for eternity as the sleeping do.
Ask and it shall be yours.”
Kieran shook his head, wishing
nothing more than to leave the hallucination and the being that
created it. “I do not desire death. It will come for me in time.”
“Time, Eidolin...” The world
dimmed suddenly as Dir-Dawaan's hard grip disappeared. The cold dark
skies of reality returned to Kieran. Familiar as they were, he felt a
sudden longing to see the Ebon Lord's vision again, despite the
earlier desire to escape it. The charred being once again stood
impassively beside him, his flaming eyes facing the open skies once
more- a sky that to him was not dark but as bright as the setting
sun. “I will destroy time, just as I have destroyed your dream. You
cling to your humanity like a wretched worm, seeking solace in
misguided emotion. I will allow you your time, Eidolin. I will allow
you her presence... but not without a price.”
“That is not what I desire!”
Kieran stated adamantly, forgetting his place once more. The Ebon
Lord suddenly sprang to life, a deafening roar escaping his lips as
he swung his arm towards the man, throwing him back across the room
with a thunderous clash.
“IT IS,” came the shout from
all sides, enveloping the fallen man in a cloak of terror. “I SEE
HER AS CLEARLY AS I SEE YOU. THE THREAD IS NOT YET SEVERED, EIDOLIN.
YOU BETRAY MY GIFT WITH YOUR PRIDE”
“I don't know how to!” Kieran
pleaded, crawling backwards towards the wall as Dir-Dawaan proceed
towards him, fuming in terrible rage. As he reached the center, the
Ebon Lord stopped mid pace and stared upward into the dim light
within the dome. His anger seemed to subside as the room's
reverberations began to fade.
“You have been given your time,
Eidolin. Waste it no longer within my presence. You will not return
to Silmacunor ever again or true death will greet you. Become my side
and do as I command, or I will make you sleep. Do you understand?”
“Yes... yes my lord. I
understand.” Kieran replied, stumbling to his feet. His body ached
in pain from the mighty blow, accompanied by the harsh landing. The
Ebon Lord looked back at the man, once more as frozen as the moment
they met.
“Do not lie to me again,
Eidolin. You may be shrouded to my vision but I can still feel your
true thoughts. I will break you yet.”
Kieran silently bowed his head and
backed away as he heard the wall behind him open. He dared not turn
around until the gate had once more been shut, his last sight being
that of Dir-Dawaan's red glare.
---
Commentary:
This took awhile for me
to compose and I still don't feel pleased with it. While most
of my other posts are vague and 'out there', I wanted to actually
delve deeper into my work and create an environment as well as solid
one-sided dialogue between a man and his master. Dir-Dawaan is
a challenging character to write. He is an enigma yet every one
of his sentences is practically a riddle in terms of who he is and
where he is from. Though he appears quite mad, there is truth
to everything he says. Thankfully, I've been able to sculpt the
world a bit more with this piece while giving the main protagonist a
severe weakness due to the decisions that he's made in serving the
dream. I look forward to refining this piece and add on to it-
I really like where things are headed. Of course I don't expect
anyone else to really comprehend what is going on- it is my madness
afterall, no one elses.
