XX - Perkolon #3

Another of my errors was my failure to foresee the death of all the firstborns of the village. Several young men have gradually fallen victim to the fever and the sores upon their skin. They still hold out hope of finding a cure, but I know they will all die, just like my dear ward.

Drotken was the son of a fisherman who, after his wife’s death, left him in my care.

He was a good father, but, by reason of his calling, his days were spent upon the high seas.

And if I recount this here, it is because I desire his memory to endure through time, at least for as long as humanity endures.

He had been a most faithful young man since coming under my tutelage, worthy of the knowledge and skills he had acquired.

A protector of his two companions, he would have given his life for any of them, including mine.

This day we burn his body and scatter his ashes in the river, that perchance the current may bear him unto his father, who hath lain these two years past in the depths of the Castrol Sea.

In his name, in his memory, tomorrow we shall set out southwards. I pray that Heimdal may guide our path to find the realm that will welcome the darkness made man.

[Pages 40–52] Maps and plans of southern Móntria.

[Pages 53 and 57] Maps of the lands neighbouring Móntria.

[Page 58]

We are back home. The journey hath been long. It hath taken us twenty days, without rest, to travel through southern Móntria, and we still do not know if beyond, across the Suoreach Mountains, there will be more settlements. But it hath not been in vain; the gods have guided us.

Even as hope seemed lost, we came upon a small and modest realm, situated farther south than we had ever journeyed. Upon its ramparts a black banner bearing a golden raven fluttered in the wind. 'These are Old Minister’s lands,' replied a guard who stood sentinel at the entrance to the market gate.

Despite our attempts to persuade the knight to grant us an audience with the lord, it was in vain.

I recall him telling me: 'King Renger Hugnork and his consort are in Lepontia, attending Lord Curktron’s wedding.

His cousin, the young King of Welst, Lerg Munork, holds sway in his stead until their return.

Return in three weeks’ time and he will gladly receive thee. '

At that moment I perceived, upon comparing the cloak worn by that warrior with that of another who was departing: they were both black and bore a golden raven embroidered upon them, but on one the bird had its beak open, whilst on the other it was in flight.

I asked the courteous knight without fear what the difference was.

He introduced himself very courteously, saying his name was Ralf Kolins, and that he was a warrior of Old Minister, ruled by Renger Hugnork.

He then pointed out that the emblem borne by the other soldier belonged to the lands of Welst, the kingdom of Lerg, to the east in the lands of Tloston.

The cousins Hugnork and Munork are the heirs of Alfredo, who, according to legend, in the times of chaos, when all the kingdoms were embroiled in endless war, was blessed by Odín, who bestowed upon him the strength and wisdom of his two ravens.

The hero brought about peace and founded Móntria and Tloston.

For a moment I doubted what the emblem had been that appeared to me in the revelation, but it was the youngest of my pupils who recalled that I had written that detail here, in my compendium of light.

The raven had its beak open and seemed to be speaking to me.

There is no doubt: Old Minister shall be the refuge of terror made man.

In two weeks’ time I shall set out for there once more.

I must meet with Renger with the utmost urgency.

As if that were not enough, we discovered the other realm that would not suffer me to rest. We had passed through it without giving it a second thought.

Ubberia appeared simple, a prosperous burgh with a sizeable militia.

We, obsessed with the raven’s banner, merely took notes and sketched the maps before continuing on our way.

But, when we set out upon our return journey, knowing we would have to wait at least three weeks for Renger’s return, we determined to spend the night at one of the inns, and an image came back to my mind.

Through the broad window of our chamber one could behold the cemetery upon the hill.

The innkeeper, Gork, having heard my tale, demanded but half the customary fee, pitying the prospect afforded by the sole vacant chamber, unawares that he had aided in unravelling a mystery that might rescue mankind.

Within that same cemetery, standing atop a heap of corpses, I beheld the form of evil clutching the heads of Odín’s Wolves, a circumstance yet to be fully explored. There, it is foretold, shall hell rise to earth.

I sense that Death will anon knock at my door, which is why I have resolved that we must part. My two pupils and I shall go our several ways, to stay, for as long as may be, the darkness from winning the battle. They have already shown me, and more than sufficiently, that they are ready.

I am aware that we cannot intervene any further than the gods allow us. I refuse to forge a path that leads us to defeat. By being cautious, we can work for the forces of light and guide the path of those who are the protagonists of this destiny.

Tomorrow, Halfdan, my pupil, shall set forth for Ubberia.

I have dispatched a message to Gork, the village innkeeper.

He is delighted to welcome the youth and his enchanted gifts.

Meanwhile, my other pupil and I shall endeavour to discover who Odín’s Wolves are, or shall be, so that we may shield and guide them.

Then, if I do not die first, we shall both set off for Old Minister.

[Page 60]

To the seeker of truth:

Colquen, my master, hath disappeared. I, Maltón Trylosson, am the one recounting what hath happened before sending this to Lepontia, where it all began.

Perkolon shall be kept safe in the hands of the Sages of the North until he finds the one who needeth him.

Not before, not after, but at the precise moment, for I shall enchant him with the very same spell that Colquen, the Hermit, used to protect our home.

Then I shall set off for Old Minister, as my wise master, before departing, hath instructed me to do.

It was two nights past. We fell asleep at the table, piled high with books and labours. I cannot recall the last time we permitted ourselves to rest. The burden of endeavouring to save humanity hath robbed our nights of sleep.

Colquen’s hand upon my arm awoke me. Still drowsy, I beheld his visage; his almond-shaped eyes seemed to glow with a phosphorescent green and were wider open than I had ever seen them, whilst his pupils darted from side to side in an attempt to perceive with his other senses what he could not see.

He rose from his chair; I followed him without asking.

Crunching footsteps drew near the door until it became clear they were about to burst into the cabin.

Colquen, wise and quick despite his years, seized the blanket resting upon the bench, cast it over me, and uttered a spell to render my silhouette invisible to the folk who, but a few seconds later, smashed the door.

I could not behold them; I stood frozen, and this day, as I commit these words to parchment, I lament not having intervened.

I strive to persuade myself that my task is but now beginning, whilst I call to mind their teachings: ' He who sacrifices himself without a purpose is no hero, but a fool who doth not value what he holds most dear; it is, then, suicide in disguise. '

I know not how many there were, yet Colquen recognised her.

'I was waiting for you,' he said, and a woman’s voice replied: 'Perfect, for you shall come with us.

' Then, a purple light pierced the thick fabric that concealed me.

Their cries of pain shook my soul, and among them I managed to hear: 'Protect Perkolon . Perkolon shall save the world.'

I tarried for several minutes until I might stir. I found no traces to follow. They bore Colquen away—I do not know if he liveth—and his own golden cup, Tyr’s gift.

We had been awaiting this moment, yet foreknowledge doth not temper the bitter sorrow now it hath come to pass. I lament not having told him how blessed I feel to be his pupil. All that remaineth for me is to follow in his footsteps and bear his legacy forward.

Because of his words, I have determined to name this record of events Perkolon . I do not know if it will have any meaning.

I have told my friend Halfdan what hath befallen; he will be devastated just as I am, but it is good to know that we are not alone. Together we will work for and from the light.

I trust that Old Minister will open its gates to me. I purpose to take up abode there, that I might discern who beareth within their flesh half of Fenrir’s soul. And, if I must stain my own soul by annihilating him, then let Helheim reserve a place for me.

If thou readest this and art the beast, know that darkness hath never overcome the light.

Thou mayest wreak as much evil as thou desirest and devour as many humans as thou wiltest, but the hour shall come when thou shalt be vanquished.

We humans wield the mightiest of all magic.

And if it be thee, or thee, who art Odín’s Wolves—seek out that hound and slay him, and fulfil the destiny that hath been entrusted to thee.