Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 37)

The readers of this little tale, at least they who have any measure of that fine, empathetic sort of sensibility which the reading of such a story by its very nature demands, will doubtless be better able to imagine the delightfully turbulent emotions and soaring passions of a thousand sweet reunions than this humble teller of tales could possibly signify with his scant store of wretched words. The reader will graciously excuse me, then, if I pass over the tears and the laughter, the embracing and shouting for joy, that filled the blessed streets of Lebben-Or for a time, and skip straight ahead to the council called by Gamaliel the Seer, as soon as the seekers had a chance to recover from the privations of their quest. As you will see, there was in fact quite an assortment of important events that had been occurring in certain other regions of the Struggle, and the news of these things is required to bring this story to whatever measure of resolution it can bear.

Thus it was that, even as our heroes’ epic journey began with three inseparable friends making their way to the seven-tiered tower in the center of Lebben-Or for a council of the seekers, so it ends in much the same way; only, instead of the sultry green of August, they are surrounded by the rich browns and oranges of late September; and so too their hearts are richer and mellower for their various trials, but just as beautiful and even more inextricably bound together.

Soon, Mishael, Ariel, and Gilead had made their way to the conference room high up in the seven-tiered tower; and with some difficulty, they found three adjoining seats that were still unoccupied, and settled down for the meeting. The room was abuzz with the decontextualized bits of information that it was the council’s purpose to lay out in due order; and so, just as people tend to do everywhere, for the lack of a few seconds of patience they were hopelessly confusing themselves, and going to a great deal of effort to do so. You will notice, dear reader, that even in Lebben-Or people are, after all, much the same as you will find them here.

Before the good people of Lebben-Or had a chance to throw themselves into too great a state of befuddlement, Gamaliel himself walked through the far door of the conference room, and the conversations all died at once. Looking around approvingly, he cleared his throat and began to speak these words, which I reproduce here:

“People of Lebben-Or, it is with much joy that I address you this morning! The safe arrival of the company of Lebbaeus, and their unforeseen success in freeing not just Tobiah, but also the tribe of the Eschatoi, from the hard bondage of Vrak, is indeed a piece of good news that will comfort our hearts and inspire us and our children for many, many years to come. We owe them many thanks for their selfless service and immeasurable sacrifice, the depths of which they alone can know who have experienced the quest’s many hardships.”

“However, it is not just to thank the company that I have gathered you here together today; many significant things are afoot, the character of the times rushes on to an indisputable conclusion, and we had best be aware of the pivotal moment which the successful outcome of this quest, in conjunction with other recent events, has propelled us to.”

“First (and I trust all of you have heard the sad account), we must temper our joy at the safe arrival of Lebbaeus and his company with sorrow for the fall of our dear comrade and most honorable friend, Ethan. Let us remember him with thanksgiving, for in his death he wrought a greater deliverance and delivered a more stunning defeat to the Enemy than he had been able to accomplish in a lifetime of dedicated service. And so too we must mourn the loss of his cousin, Tahath, whose downfall was more tragic by far and deplorable in the extreme. May his example be a constant reminder to those of us who remember his bitter end, stirring us up to faithfulness at any cost!”

“And yet, the sorrow we rightly feel at these losses is in some way ameliorated by the addition of two new members to the company of Lebbaeus: Carl, the faithful and courageous guardsman, whose loyalty has been tested and proved, and who owns the great distinction of being the first sworn soldier of Vrak to swear instead his allegiance to the High King, at tremendous cost to his own safety; and Shashi, the childhood friend of Mishael, who in a most difficult and painful fashion escaped from Fair Semblances, following our own Mishael as just the second person known to have done so successfully. Please welcome these two new seekers most warmly!”

“Now, we must clear up one small matter of business before I bring you my report from the northeastern parts of the Struggle; and that is, the question of the Eschatoi. I have consulted with the High King, who wishes to give them the fertile tract of land several miles south of Lebben-Or known as the Makarian Fields, which is still largely unsettled. They have been told of this decision and are anxiously awaiting the Spring, when they can begin to sow their own fields and build their own houses; but of course, in the meantime, they will need accommodations throughout the winter; and so, every family and farmstead interested may inquire with our sister Tirzah, who is currently functioning as my secretary, about taking in one of the families of the Eschatoi for the coming winter months.”

“But now we must move on to graver things: as many of you know, I have just yesterday returned from my watchtower in the northern Draconian Mountains, and for some time I have been doing much reconnoitering both in the regions surrounding Fair Semblances, and in certain tracts of land within the Desert of Salt that had been dead for countless years, but have just now sprung to new life. What I have discovered is greatly upsetting.”

“As we have mentioned before, our compatriot in Waverly, Porthos the innkeeper, has suspected for some time now that the leopards of Zoar are again roaming the desert, for the first time in the Present Age. He has confirmed this suspicion definitely now, and there have already been several casualties just in Waverly; and what’s more, reports of other casualties are now coming in from different frontier towns. This was a sufficiently troubling piece of news that I personally went deep into the Desert of Salt, to the site of the ruins of Zoar, and what I found was shocking in the extreme: Tiamat, the ancient leopard-god of Zoar, is stirring again, and the worship cultus at his temple has been reinstated. The joint-thrones of Zoar have once again been occupied. The reigning queen is none other than Isabella, for whom we had been searching ever since Vrak destroyed her city of Lusk; and her king is a man with whom I was previously unacquainted, an eastern horse soldier of tremendous military skill, named Eshban.”

“I know him!” Mishael here shouted out much to the surprise of the whole convocation, quite interrupting Gamaliel’s flow of thought. “I know him,” he continued a little less exuberantly, when he had Gamaliel’s attention; “we were prisoners together in Lusk. He claimed to be the last man living who knew the ancient secrets of Akbar horsemanship and warcraft, and had resigned himself to the bitter supposition that they would die with him. He struck me as a cruel and vindictive man, and I think I offended him deeply when I was chosen to be Isabella’s personal proxy.”

“Well, I fear his secrets will not die with him after all,” Gamaliel replied, resuming his discourse: “he has recruited a very substantial army of eastern horsemen, and he has been drilling them mercilessly for some time now. Isabella has already made Zoar the new capital city of the world of fashion and glamour, and the riches of the southern and eastern kingdoms are already pouring in. What’s more, Tiamat, the leopard-god, seems to have some ancient hold upon the Nethinim, and the court is simply swarming with them. It is they who are digging out the whole city, which these many centuries has lain buried beneath the sand of the desert, and it is quickly regaining the splendor of its prime. In short, Zoar now has both the wealth of Lusk and the combined might of the leopards of Tiamat, the powerful Nethinim, and the horse soldiers of Akbar; and its prominence is growing exponentially. Soon, it may be as great a threat to Lebben-Or as Dolos itself.”

“But my bad news is not finished yet. I had hoped that Isabella and Vrak would be at enmity with each other, due to Vrak’s recent destruction of Lusk. But unfortunately, that contingency has been precluded by a new and dangerous threat from the northeast, the young Grand Proprietor of Fair Semblances, a man by the name of Javan Togarmah, who has replaced Shimei Ahitub. He happens to be our own Shashi’s brother, and his potential for destructive power is almost unlimited. Already, the darkness is stronger in Fair Semblances and the Impenetrable Thicket is more inscrutable than I ever remember it having been before. He has been working assiduously, and has managed to forge a strong alliance between Vrak and Zoar. So now, we have a triad of evil surrounding Lebben-Or that is stronger and more potentially destructive than anything we have yet seen. Surely, the moment of cataclysmic confrontation is impending.”

“You have all no doubt realized by now that the Ancient Prophecies have been fulfilled in large part over the course of the past few months; the eye of the Dragon has been pierced, his “mountain bones” have been quaking indeed, Tiamat is again on the prowl; and now, the last tribe has been freed from Vrak’s dominion. The last great battle, with all of the uncertain speculation concerning its nature and outcome, is no doubt on the horizon. And interestingly enough, I found some confirmation of this from Zoar itself. I managed to enter the very temple of Tiamat, as I was seeking information, and although I very narrowly escaped with my life, and would not dare to venture there again, I was able to jot down a prophecy which is written upon the wall, in a circular band of cursive script that encircles the temple just beneath its impressive dome. This is roughly what it says, when translated into the Common Tongue:

‘Will you sleep forever, O Tiamat?/ Will you never awake, O Leopard of Zoar? / Be aroused, O mighty one! / Leap to life, in the end of all times! / Out of Zoar will come a champion, / a warrior will arise and sit upon the throne, / a king most dreadful, / a queen terrible in loveliness. / The glory of Zoar will shine again, / her radiance will terrify the world, / and into the last great battle she shall fling herself / with fury and fearsome rage.’

“Vrak’s rage at the loss of his last tribe will be implacable; the cunning and fearful power of his new Grand Proprietor is disheartening; and this stunning rise to power of the ancient evil of Zoar is immensely distressing. All things point to a soon and terrible climax, a final world-shaking and epoch-ending battle between Lebben-Or and the newly forged triad of evil. Conduct yourselves with the utmost sobriety and vigilance, until the High King has made clear his wishes! That is all that I have for you today.”

Thus abruptly did Gamaliel end the council, and slowly, with a great admixture of emotions, the seekers filtered out of the conference room in a subdued attitude and much more slowly than before. The joy of a mighty victory was already swallowed up in the anxiety of a more threatening challenge yet. “But this too is prophesied, this too is inevitable,” the people were all saying in their overladen hearts; “and the sooner it is begun, the sooner the end will come, an end with no more disappointment, struggle, failure and pain”. And in this they were comforted.

* * * * * * * *

Exactly one month later, Gilead, Mishael, and Ariel were walking through the crystal streets of Lebben-Or, and the first snowflakes of the year were floating down from a calm, comfortable sky. As they walked along, they were talking among themselves, and their hearts were as peaceful as the snow-laden clouds high above them.

“Every morning when I wake up and look around me, I still have to pause and convince myself that this is real, that I really am in Lebben-Or again,” Mishael was saying. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else, my heart is so full of this place that it would wither and die if I had to leave. It seems as if I’ve been here forever, as if I’ve always lived here. Even when I first passed through its gates it was familiar, as if I were coming home. But even so, sometimes I can hardly believe that I’m really here.”

“I know exactly what you mean, “Ariel responded cheerily; “that’s exactly how we feel every time we return, and every time we leave on some mission or another I feel like I’m going to die, and I only want to come back soon. But you’ll get to know that feeling. I’m sure that as soon as Spring comes there will be more work to do. There always is.”

“I’m not so sure about that this year, however,” Gilead suggested gravely. “I feel that the end is upon us, that whatever happens next will be conclusive and eternal. Even when I am at peace, my heart is always just a little on edge. I only want this ‘last great battle’ to be done with, and yet I am sometimes horribly afraid of its commencement. Who knows what terrors await us in the coming months, or even weeks or days.”

“Yes,” Mishael replied soberly, “You are certainly right. Difficult times lie just ahead, but beyond them a blessed end shines so certainly and tangibly that sometimes I almost think I can touch it already. One way or the other, these times will come, all of history has promised them; and for my part, I can think of no better place to be when they come than in Lebben-Or.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Ariel said laughingly; and on an impulse, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and stretching her face up to the heavens caught one of the year’s first perfect flakes on the tip of her tongue.

THE END

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