A phantasm, nothing more.
“Tell me of the vision,” the Dark Man whispered. Share.
Timozel hesitated.
“I want to hear of it.” Share.
“Perhaps I will tell you,” Timozel said. “It came time and time again. Always the same. I rode a great and noble beast – it cried with such a voice that all before it quailed.” As Timozel spoke he fell under the spell of the vision again, and his voice sped up, the words tumbling from his mouth. “I fought for a Great Lord, and in his name I commanded an army that undulated for leagues in every direction.”
“Goodness,” the Dark Man said. “A truly great vision.”
“Hundreds of thousands screamed my name.” Now Timozel leaned forward, his voice earnest. “They hurried to fulfil my every wish. The enemy quivered in terror; they could do nothing. Remarkable victories were mine for the taking … in the name of my Lord I was going to clear the filth that invaded Achar!”
“If you did that then your name would live in legend forever,” the Dark Man said, and Timozel could hear the admiration in his voice.
“Yes! Yes, it would. Millions would thank me. I saw more –”
“Tell me!”
“I saw myself seated before a fire with my Lord, and Faraday at our side. The battles were over. All was well. I … I had found my destiny. I had found my light.”
He dropped his face into his hands momentarily, and when he raised his eyes again the Dark Man could see they were reddened and lost. “But it was all a lie.”
“How so?”
“Borneheld lies dead – I saw Axis tear his heart out myself. His armies are dead or have betrayed his name and fled to Axis. In any case, Borneheld would never give me command.”
“He did not trust your vision. Perhaps that is why he lost,” the stranger said, and Timozel nodded slowly.
“Now Faraday lies with Axis and becomes his wife, and we are all lost. Lost. And now … now …”
“Now?” the Dark Man asked. “Do you experience other visions? Dreams, perhaps?”
Timozel’s eyes flared, his suspicions aroused. “How did you know?”
“Oh,” the Dark Man soothed. “You have the look about you. The look of a man troubled by visions.”
“It is not visions that wrap my thoughts now, but dark nightmares that ensorcel my soul!”
“Perhaps you have misinterpreted –”
“How can I misinterpret the fact that Gorgrael has his talons locked into my soul! It is over! Finished!”
He stopped, appalled. He had never, never, mentioned Gorgrael to another person before. How would Gorgrael punish him, now he had shared the secret?
The stranger did not seem overly perturbed by Timozel’s mention of Gorgrael. “Ah yes, Gorgrael is a good and dear friend of mine.”
Timozel recoiled in horror, almost falling backwards in his haste to put more distance between himself and the cloaked man.
“Your friend?”
“Ah,” the Dark Man said. “I fear you have fallen under the spell of the evil rumours about Gorgrael that sweep this land.”
Timozel stared at him.
“Timozel, my friend, how can Gorgrael be evil and dark when he fights the same things that you do?”
“What do you mean?” How could that appalling creature not be evil and dark?
“Consider this, Timozel. Gorgrael and Borneheld fight – fought – for the same thing.”
“What?” Perhaps he should slice this stranger’s head off and be done with it, Timozel thought.
“Listen to me,” the Dark Man said, his voice soothing, calming. “Gorgrael hates the Forbidden – the Icarii and the Avar – as Borneheld did. Gorgrael wants to see them destroyed as much as Borneheld did. Both shared the same purpose.”
Timozel struggled with the stranger’s words. Yes, it was true that Borneheld hated the Forbidden and ached for their destruction. And Gorgrael wants the same thing?
“He surely does,” the Dark Man whispered. “He surely does.”
“But the Prophecy says …” Timozel tried to remember exactly what it was that the Prophecy said.
“Bah!” The Dark Man grinned to himself under his hood. “The Prophecy is nothing but a tool of the Forbidden to cloud men’s minds and blind them to their true saviour – Gorgrael.”
“Yes…yes.” Timozel thought it through. “That makes sense.”
“And Gorgrael aches to kill Axis as much as Borneheld did.”
“Axis.” Now Timozel’s voice was edged with unreasoning hatred.
“Who has brought the Forbidden back to crawl over Achar’s lands, Timozel?”
“Axis!” Timozel hissed.
The Dark Man spoke very slowly, emphasising every word. “Gorgrael is committed to killing Axis and ridding this fair land of the Forbidden. Is that not what you want?”
“Yes. Yes, that is what I want!”
“Gorgrael will help rescue Faraday from the foul clutches of Axis and the Forbidden.”
“Faraday! He will help rescue Faraday?” Was there hope for Faraday yet?
“With your help, Timozel. With your help.”
“With my help?” Could he redeem himself in Faraday’s eyes?
“Ah, Timozel,” the Dark Man said dejectedly. “Gorgrael is truly misunderstood and he fights for a true cause, but he is not a good war leader.” He sighed, and Timozel leaned even closer, eager. “Timozel, he needs a war leader. He needs you and you need him. Together you can rid Achar of its foul corruption.”
A small voice deep in Timozel’s soul told him not to listen to this man, not to believe his smooth words. Had not Borneheld fought Gorgrael as well? Were not the Skraelings as evil as the Forbidden? But, caught as he was by the weight of the enchantments being woven about him and by the blackness that was eating into his soul, Timozel pushed those thoughts out of existence. Gorgrael would be the one to restore sanity and good health to Achar.
“He would give me command of his army?”
“Oh, surely. He knows that you are a great warrior.”
Timozel sat back, enthralled. A command of his own, at last! Even Borneheld had not done that for him.
“Don’t
