A Song for the Dead

Cy 4822 – 2^nd day of Maruk

The night air is still in Gran Breton. A deathly silence descends upon it as the city sleeps…though not everyone in Gran Breton can be still. Above the quiet a mournful sound can be heard as it drifts into the very souls of all who hear it. Atop a mountain in the east a woman dressed all in white opens her soul as she sings a song for Time itself. This song reaches the darkest places in the land, touches the hearts of the cruellest men and fills the world with sadness.

Nature grieves for the last Kasadai.

But for Valadain and Jarik the song signifies a spiritual awakening. Indeed as the two individuals concentrate on the mournful muse of Nature they find themselves at the pinnacle of the Olshay Range, the carpet of clouds beneath them. The tears of the White Woman fall as diamonds around them; priceless yet meaningless. The implacable guardian of the universe – the bringer of balance and the maker of the Laws of Grayhawk is before them. And she weeps!

A face lined and moist regards them.

“Just because I am Nature does not mean that I am cold,” she says. “The death of the last Kasadai was like a knife through my heart…in a small way that death is like a mortal wound for Grayhawk. The hour of our greatest peril is upon us and the hope for us all has been slain by the right hand of the Daemon.

“The choice between Arch demon and Arch dragon seems ironic. But it is not my place to take sides, as you know I am the implacable face of Grayhawk – immovable, inseparable and impartial. Yet it is the first time I have felt the cold steel of remorse in my existence.

“I am changing, perhaps because of a need to adapt to the changing world but there is blood in my veins instead of ice. In a valley some years ago I touched a small child and caressed it’s saviour. They became priest and god. To a child I caused a cauldron to spill and created Resonance. (Pete see the background you sent me about Jarik)

“Without realising it my interference has brought you both to me. Of course I am not allowed to interfere and yet all that I am, all that I was screams that this is right. Perhaps my perfect universe will crumble because of my weakness or perhaps you two will be the saviour the gods expect. I can feel love – a glow within, a regard for others I never thought possible. I cherish and I covet. How is this possible? I am not mortal yet I ache for the release of death; I am not sentient yet I yearn for the presence of others. Is this the great mystery of life that those under my umbrella suffer?

“Why do I mourn?

“In a conversation with Malkar he asked me a direct question. So subtle and straightforward yet the answer was so difficult that I struggled with it for many years. I suspect that my protégé, Malkar the White, has made me think…he has altered my perception in that one question and altered my Fate forever. He was the most intelligent of all the great men that have lived under the shelter of my Laws. Chael, Sirath, Cedron, Doctor X; all of these men pale in the shadow of Malkar’s intellect. I suspect, Valadain Raikos, that your master has fooled me…altered my very thought process.” The White Woman smiles warmly at this point. “I knew there was something special about that man. He has set me on a path that has led to this final struggle.

“Azael, the demon at the gate, will consume me. The Glaennyn – most ancient of beasts – will usurp me. Their span is almost comparable to Promethius. But the true irony is this: without the Glaennyn there is no power on Grayhawk that can defeat the demons…thus my tears. Vance Dexton’s enmity with Malador was a microcosmic fight that would decide how the final battle would be played.

“Valadain…Jarik…you simply must liberate the Glaennyn and ride against Azael. It is your only hope. As you know I am unable to steer you through the riddles that will free them, but you are the only two individuals on Grayhawk that have ever communicated with them. The Glaennyn know you – in their eyes you two are the most prominent of Grayhawk’s warriors. They will view you as kings, not minions. The Lord of the Glaennyn has already chosen your dragons – the same dragons that you will ride to face Azael and the demonic horde that threatens to engulf Grayhawk. Malador was only interested in the slaying of the Kasadai…he was not ready to face a more formidable foe…the enemy that is touched by the Woman in White. Demons have a sense of the strength of a soul and Malador has touched yours and shuddered. When he stares into your minds it is my grim smiling face he sees…why do you think he takes such trouble to communicate with you?

“Malador, Azael and all of the other filth fear you. It will be difficult for you to comprehend but you must accept my words and believe them. Faith is easy for a priest but a raconteur? Never in my extensive existence have I laid myself bare to mortal men before…in actual fact it is a liberating experience. But you must follow your hearts and accept my words. The universe has no hidden agenda…just a desire to exist and remain. The demons will not afford you that luxury.

“My existence as arbiter of the Laws of Grayhawk draws to a close. But with whatever power I have left I will surely leave a legacy that will prevail until the end of Time itself. The love, which I feel now for you now, overshadows everything; it is as intoxicating as the most virulent poison and yet as sweet as the most flavoursome fruit. Malkar is perhaps the greatest, wisest, most powerful god I have ever known. He and I have an understanding and he will shelter you however he can, but even his power cannot shield you from the enemy of all life. When Azael comes you will face him alone.

“But you will face him as equals…Azael is a guest on Grayhawk. Your blood must not be spilt in vain.”

More tears as the most exquisite beauty turns away and drifts off into the morning mist. Both Valadain and Jarik return to Gran Breton and into their bodies. The whole place seems different somehow…even the morning mist has a menace to it. A lone city militiaman stares at them and wonders what such nobility is doing out at this time. Valadain and Jarik exchange a knowing glance…the song for the dead has gone. As the militiaman goes about his patrol the two men head for the temple of Ollis in silence. They are aware of the mind of Malador in the mist…a mind that strives to pervert their quest. But the search for the Glaennyn cannot be deflected. They know this now…know this with a clarity that lifts their spirit. The need for the bosom of Malkar is great for both men…and it is to the great temple that they head in silence.

“To the temple and Malkar the White…”