A Feast for the Fallen - Part Three

Part three of three. All's well that ends well... or is it?

The dawn sun had barely crested the horizon when King Amhor and his warriors gathered about the barred doors of the hall. The air was still and silent. No words needed to be spoken, the warriors went about removing the heavy wooden planks from the slots in the door and pulled them open. They were prepared to see a gruesome sight, yet no such thing could have stunned them into silence as did the scene they found.

There, amid the broken remains of the king’s bench at the far end of the hall, lay the great swordsman from Gath, broken limbs rested upon his still chest. And sat before him, in the king’s own honorary seat, was the bard from Morn, chin resting on his fist, Mahar’s sword across his knees, like a king waiting to judge the accused.

“Good morning, Master Amhor,” said Charon with a mocking grin. “I hope you slept well.”

Word spread like lightning throughout the king’s household. Before Amhor could react, a small crowd was jostling each other to look upon Charon as though he were a ghost come back from the dead. 

In a rage, the king howled at them all to back away, and with a couple of his warriors he entered the hall and had the door closed behind him. Timidly, he shuffled over the seated Charon, guilt and shame wrought upon his face. His warriors remained by the door, grim and silent. Amhor stood before the bench, hardly able to look into Charon's eyes, or the body of Mahar, he could only look down at his feet like a student awaiting discipline. 

“Master Charon,” he stammered. “You… are you hurt?”

Charon laughed softly. 

“Thankfully, not so much.” He raised his left hand to scratch at his ear, giving the king a full view of his missing finger. “My dear travelling companion though… Well, I don’t wish to alarm you, but our rest was interrupted last night by a curious intruder. I’m afraid we couldn’t chase him off before one of your benches was ruined, and my friend took a nasty fall in the scuffle. At the very least it was fortunate that you yourself weren’t present…”

“Then you’ve done it?” The king’s hands fairly shook with eagerness. “You have banished the demon?!” 

“Demon? Gods’ Eye! I didn’t say anything about a demon. But then, perhaps you know more about this thing than I do. Or at least, where it comes from.”

Amhor said nothing.

“Start talking, you bloated old fool. Mahar, who you offered protection, is dead, and I almost joined him. The least you can do for now is give a full account of this mess. Even if I’ve guessed the better half of it already, I want it in your own words. Now, tell me everything.”

At that, Amhor fell to his knees and grovelled at Charon’s feet, sobbing pitifully.

“Oh forgive me… forgive me! I have been a coward, a Law-breaker, a villain! We have all lived in the shadow of fear for so long, I only sought to do right by my people…”

“Save that for later,” snapped Charon. “I want to hear the whole thing from the beginning. How and why did the demon come to be here?”

Amhor wrung his hands together nervously. “We cannot say for certain, yet, in my heart I know the truth. Many years ago, when I was much younger, a man came travelling through our lands, all alone. An older man he was, but very strong and richly garbed. His name was Grendan, and he seemed to have been on the road for a long time, and in desperate need of shelter, and so I did what was expected of me and gave him hospitality. He was very weary, and so he stayed for two nights, before a band of warriors came to our border, warriors from Kadarn, led by a prince of that realm. An apprehension I could not explain came over me then, and so I rode out to meet them and learn their business before I allowed them onto my lands. Fate was not kind to me that day, for these warriors had come hunting after my guest, Grendan. He too was a prince a Kadarn, who had been discovered plotting to take the throne with sorcery and forced to flee… into my arms. 

“I understood what would be asked of me, and I said as much that to betray this man now, who was by rights under my protection, would be a grievous affront to the Law, and that Grendan was not just an outlaw. But they would not relent, and said that Grendan would escape justice and was an outlaw in all but name, and that any man who sheltered him was an enemy of the rightful rulers of Kadarn. My kingdom is but a poor one, and we cannot risk the ire of our neighbours. And so, with heavy heart, I lead them to my hall, were we found my guest sleeping at the bench. He awoke then, just long to look into my eyes before… oh gods, I didn’t know… I didn’t know they would kill him like that…

“Ahhhh… That explains it then.” Though Charon had not known the details of the story, he had expected as much. 

“They cut his throat then and there,” Amhor continued, “in my own hall. That dreadful deed haunted my soul, but something more terrible would haunt me ever since. Not long after that, we were celebrating a holy-day in here. I retired to my chambers, while others remained within the hall… to their doom. Dreadful wails awoke us all in the dead of night. Me and some of my men rushed to the hall with weapons ready. But by the time we got here we found no foe, only a few poor souls cowering upon the floor, amidst the blood and gore of those who were not so lucky. The survivors told us a nightmarish story, of a deathly apparition that came out of the shadows and fell upon the sleepers, only to disappear into thin air once it glutted itself on the blood of my people.

“A few of my hardiest warriors vowed to rid the hall of the demon. They failed, all of them torn to shreds. Then I begged the aid of a nearby witch who came to banish the creature, and she too failed, and paid with her life for the attempt. I knew then that this was the punishment I was to endure my crime, for breaking the gods’ law of hospitality, that no guest of mine should find peace in my hall. And so I grieved, and prayed for deliverance.”

“And so we come to it,” Charon said, his voice hard and cold. “And the deception?”

“Well, after all attempts to rid ourselves of the creature had failed, we spoke no more of it, and abandoned the hall for good. Yet after a long time, with no living man having been within for many months, the creature began to let its presence be known. Louder and louder its wailings would grow with each passing night, until it was no longer satisfied to stay where it was. It struck out one night, snatching up the first poor soul who it came across. And then, after it had claimed a life, it would be silent for a time, and left us in peace…”

“Ah… so there we have it then,” said Charon. “That’s where the poor, unsuspecting travellers come in, like lambs to the slaughter.” 

Amhor could not meet Charon's gaze, only looking down shamefully. “We hoped that someone would at last overcome the demon…”

“Then you were a fool!” Charon shot up suddenly and angrily. Amhor’s warriors made no move to interfere. “You bring this whole mess down upon yourself by murdering a guest, and then you seek to right your wrongs by leading more guests to their bloody fate. If what I suspect of your demon to be true, then your deeds have only been adding kindling on the flame.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Then you are a greater fool than I imagined. You have only served to make the demon stronger, and would have blindly continued doing so until it finally got its hands on you. That thing was not only the shade of that Balan fellow, but of every soul who you deceived and left to die! You allowed this to happen, and now my friend here is dead, and so would I be, had I not overcome the thing.”

Amhor looked up then, reaching out to take Charon’s hands in his own. “Then it is gone? After so long, someone has finally overcome the demon. Forgive me, Master Charon. Forgive this wretched man. I will offer blood-price for your friend, and for my crime against you. Anything I own is yours to claim, be it my throne, or even my own life. Anything you desire, you but have to name…”

“Stop snivelling. I don’t want your throne, or your miserable life. My only wish is to be away from this accursed place as soon as possible, and to never again trouble myself with you or your kingdom. If you wish to show me some kindliness, then have a cairn built for Mahar and see all the proper honours are made. For myself, I want food and supplies for the road, as much as my two ponies’ can carry. Now go, and leave me alone for a while.”

Amhor wept and grovelled for a little while more, begging Charon to accept some greater reward, but the bard would hear none of it. Amhor’s strongest men came and bore the body of Mahar away and laid him upon a nearby hill. They built a cairn over the once mighty warrior, and Charon hallowed the spot with Mahar's own sword, asking the gods to protect the spot as a solemn crowd watched on. When that was done, the sun was setting, and so Charon thrust Mahar’s former sword into his belt and prepared for his departure. 

Amhor had not approached him again for the rest of that day, but others came from all over the kingdom to see the bard who had bested the fearful demon that had haunted their kingdom for so long. Any shame they might have felt for allowing travellers to be deceived so was lost in gladness and excitement, free at last from the fear of the monster. They looked upon Charon with awe, and they made merry songs about his deed and promised to remember the bard as a hero for all time. This only made Charon's mood all the darker. 

A few who had some grasp on the Trader’s Tongue approached the bard and clumsily suggested that he stay for the celebration, for Amhor had announced a feast to be held in Charon's honour, and for all those who had fallen to the Shadow. But Charon only waved them away, sternly commanding that none were to approach him again. And so, when no eyes were upon him, Charon saddle his pony and packed the supplies prepared for him. With Mahar’s mount lashed to his own, Charon took up reins and turned his back on the house of Amhor and rode away.

He did not go far before stopping, finding a trail up a wooded hills and tethering the ponies in a clearing by a promontory overlooking a great swathe of Amhor’s land, the hill fort dominating the view. He did not wish to go any further into the wilds that night, but he did not want a fire to mark his location. And so he dined on dried meats and found a spot on the grass to recline and drink from a small gourd of wine.

The wind carried dim echoes from the hill-fort to Charon's ears, but he only stared at the growing stars above as he listened to the sounds of the celebration, Mahar's sword leaning against a tree beside him. When he deigned to look, he could see the light which gleamed merrily from out the hall, bringing with it snatches of raucous singing. Small figure milled about here and there, the festivities felt in all the surrounding land. The hours dragged by, until at last, the sound of singing and laughter had died away.

Then, to no surprise to Charon, he heard that dreadful, icy wail, loud and clear upon the wind. Screams of terror followed. He wondered then if he had done right by not telling those poor fools that the demon had not been banished. But then, he had never claimed to have done so, because they had never made the request of him. It simply wasn’t his business anymore, he had decided. Besides, he knew exactly what it would take to end the curse upon the hall once for all, and if King Amhor survived that night, then such was fate. 

Charon could not tell Amhor’s voice from all the others, but he knew then that the demon had at last fulfilled its terrible purpose, and would no longer haunt that dreadful place. For the screams had ceased, replaced by the shrill, hellish laughter. That laughter seemed to be filled with many distinct voices, and loudest and clearest of all those voices in Charon's ears, was Mahar's.