Yldrath's Baffling Quest

By Stefan B. Sigfried

Three must find an heir to a dying king: Yldrath, a mythical figure with great powers; Podrg, a close friend of the king; Stelldan, a kitchen boy elevated by circumstances to his position. Their weapons: necklaces and swords with eternal stones, which can give them unlimited powers – if they understand how to use them. This action packed story revolves around the struggle between the peaceful way of Ehl’Ge’tild and the more energetic - and selfish - way of Ihl’S’told. Love mixes with lust, honour meets bitter betrayal, selfish greed competes with altruistic sacrifice. What is evil and good? Truth? Love? Things go awry, people die and new contenders appears. Yldrath changes as does his main enemy Bevelug, a woman. Does she want to kill Yldrath or marry him to establish a great new dynasty? Mix Narnia, The Lord of Rings and Harry Potter. Add illusions created in an Orwellian manner and a dash of The Alchemist and we get a Shakespearean mix of comedy, romance and tragedy – but with more action. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326204389

Book preview

Yldrath's Baffling Quest

Yldrath's Baffling Quest

Second Edition published in 2015 by lulu.com.

Copyright © 2015 Stefan Sigfried

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

ISBN: 978-1-326-20438-9

Author: Stefan Sigfried.

Cover photo copyright © 2014-2015 Stefan Sigfried

Map of Pohlonnia copyright © 2014-2015 Stefan Sigfried

yldraths baffling quest_lulu_epub_2ed_v11.docx, 2015-03-04.

http://www.yldrath.com

- 1 -

He must come to a decision. The sun was putting the day to rest; its rays transforming everything it touched into shimmering orange. For a moment it was real; everything had been turned into gold – a true image of his life: wealth and power. He shook his head, annoyed.  He must decide! This was no time for a king to indulge in frivolous thoughts. He shivered, even though it was warm and he was wrapped in layers of thick blankets. Soon they would call him Arkehtdag III again, because a king only kept the name of his kingdom as long as he was alive. Who should he choose to be the next king of Artos?

Involuntarily he let his weight rest on Podrg, governor of Rudland; Podrg, always there, always reliable.

Shall we go back in Sire? It’s chilly up here.

The King looked out over lush green valleys stretching south and west, until they were lost in the mountain range that gave him and the kingdom its name: Artos. In the other direction, northward and eastward, in front of his castle Mevyr, lay the city Gülldvyr, until it reached the ocean. He ached to go sailing again, but he could not. He had been king for more than a hundred years and now age and illness made his life run out fast.

Had he ruled his country well? Surely, he had ruled as well as someone who is only human and King can reign, but what would happen now?

He clenched his teeth. In. 

Podrg helped him back inside and into his bed.

Leave the doors open, I want to see the sunlight. The sunlight gave a welcoming feeling to the large austere room they had entered.

Tucked up in bed, he closed his eyes and saw again the gold-covered valleys, but his brooding came back and he sighed heavily. His life had taught him how greed and selfishness so easily entered into a human. When someone got a taste of power and wealth it led to change, even if they started out as good and well-meaning people. On several occasions he had been forced to dismiss, and sometimes execute people, who could not keep control of their ambitions. Yes, he had ruled with a heavy hand, but he had always tried to govern with justice. His painful memories made him sigh again. His sons, standing in front of his bed, turned their eyes towards him, expectations in their eyes.

Anvar, the eldest son, was the one everyone assumed would be the next king. He had already acquired a small entourage who saw opportunities for themselves with a new king. That Anvar didn’t see through the falsity of his quick-won friends helped him to make up his decision. The signs were few, and apparently only he saw them, but something was happening that would require more of a king than Anvar could handle, or for that matter any of his sons. They were good men all of them, no doubt about that, but none of them were fit to rule the country.

The chill came back into his body although he lay under several layers of coats and the room was warm.

He would break with tradition.

Bring me the round stone. Eyes that had strayed away when he had said nothing returned to look at him again.

He sat up in bed. Bring the round stone! His voice came strong for a moment, but then he was forced to lie down in bed again.

From the vaults? said Podrg. Artos didn’t reply but just stared at him. Podrg turned to the guards who stood at the door and clapped his hands. Bring the round stone from the vaults!

It will take time.

I know, said the king, waving a hand as if the objection was an annoying fly. Prepare to use the stone. It must be properly cleaned. The king tried to sit up. Everything must be done according to custom! Then he lied down and fell into a restless sleep, where suns danced with faces of his sons, faces of those he had executed, and other faces, all staring at him.

After a while they heard the heavy breathing of men; six soldiers carried a large box of dark wood with sturdy fittings of silver. The box was set down in front of the king’s bed with a thump that woke the king. Don’t just stand there. Open it! The King’s order ended in a cough.

In the box lay a thick circular stone, about one meter in diameter. The stone was black, so black that it was difficult to see it.

It's already clean my king, said Podrg. A surprised murmur ran through the room.

We shall summon Yldrath, said the king in a whisper.

Yldrath? Yldrath of the mountain? said Podrg and bent down and said in a low voice, Yldrath is just a myth, my friend and King. Perhaps the king had become delirious.

The king gripped Podrg’s robe and his hand was strong. He’s more than a myth Podrg. I’ve met him. He’s human. But he’s also a promise, and his time is now. He fell back. Now again, he’s our hope, he added, but so weakly that only Podrg heard it. Help me sit up.

Podrg supported the king. Cold sweat ran down the King’s face when he looked at them. He pulled out a necklace on which hung a round metal container, the size of a palm. The king opened the container. In it lay a white translucent faceted stone on a small tray. Thorvad. The king's voice was again so faint that only Podrg heard it.

The stone reflected the light that came in from the balcony, forming patterns of light that made Podrg squint. The king pressed in two places on the tray and the stone came loose from it. Take this and put it on the round stone. Podrg took the stone; it felt cold, but alive; dangerous as if it was a predator. He placed the white stone on the round stone. Nothing happened.

Thorvad! The King's voice was loud and shrill. Thorvad. The white stone rose above the black, round stone, and the light from the small stone increased. The stone moved slowly towards the middle of the round stone creating intricate patterns of light on the roof and the walls of the room. When it reached the centre it found a small hollow where it laid itself to rest and disappeared. First nothing happened but suddenly the larger round stone became as white and transparent as the smaller stone had been.

You shall issue an edict that Yldrath's presence is desired at King Arkehtdag's court. The King's voice died in a cough, and he fell down on the bed. Podrg's face went white. Nobody moved. The king had used the name he had had before he became king, which was as saying that he was already dead.

You heard our king, said Podrg.

The king pointed to the wall in front of his bed. Take away the stone in the middle of the mural. The stone that has a blue and red flower painted on it. Behind that stone you’ll find a little glass figure. Throw it against the round stone. You will find that it breaks into small sharp star-shaped pieces. Give such a chip to each person who is to proclaim the edict. He shall hold the piece in his hand when he reads the decree and squeeze the splinter so that blood drops on the ground.

And the King wondered if the price would be too high for you didn’t call for Yldrath as you called common people.

So a decree went out that was read in every town, village and every other place where people used to be or meet. And deep inside the mountain, where Yldrath slept, the edict was noticed and Yldrath woke up.

- 2 -

He had slept long; dreams lingered and refused to disappear, but awareness kept growing and finally Yldrath could get up from the stone bed where he had slept. He walked up to a mirror and looked at himself. Clear dark eyes looked back at him from a face with a short beard. He should have become younger. The myths held that the healing power became weaker each time you slept and he had slept many times, so perhaps the sleep had begun to lose its power.

He walked over to a table where a golden goblet stood next to a slender transparent bottle adorned with flowers. The table and the bottle were as free from dust as the rest of the room.

When he touched the bottle its contents began to sparkle; burning in all the colors of the rainbow. Yldrath poured a generous amount of the liquid into the goblet, and drank slowly of the shimmering drink. His thoughts cleared some. A word came to him, luminosus; that was the name of the liquid.

His mind cleared even more: it was not yet time for him to wake up, so it could not be Kungfülls, his deputy, who had called on him. He smiled when he thought about him and his subjects. They were happy when he was there as their king, in Yldrath’s kingdom, but just as happy when he was away.

But, if Kungfülls had not summoned him, who had summoned him? And why could he not see who it was? This was alarming and indicated that the summons had put more forces in motion than was normal and desired.

He decided not to contact Kungfülls. Better to act in secrecy until he knew more, and he had better walk to the caller though it would take longer, but it was safer, since it would attract less attention. The thought of walking and stretching his legs appealed to him; He needed time to think, time to wake up body and mind, and time to come into harmony with his special talents. His goal would become clearer as he travelled; that would his powers bring about. He dressed quickly.

He had to clear his throat several times before he could say the words that opened the way out, but soon he was standing outside the mountain he had slept inside. Leather jacket, pants in rough dark cloth, heavy leather boots, a hat in green, a sword with a green glistening stone on the hilt put in a beautiful brown sheath, knife in his belt and a knapsack over his shoulder.

The sun shone brightly but its rays barely reached down to where he stood on the bottom of a quiet forest of tall pine trees. The forest listened, felt that something new had entered, but he was accepted and made a part of the forest, just like the plants, animals and large stones, which could be seen here and there, were part of the forest. A squirrel ran past his feet, unaware that he was not yet another tree. Yldrath breathed the clean air, rich in forest secrets; it was alive and felt immensely good after the air inside the mountain. He was ready to begin his quest.

His first steps felt unfamiliar, but soon he had found a rhythm that quickly carried him forward effortlessly, as if he travelled on a road. The movement and the impressions revived him and his senses began to gather information; so it was his old friend Arkehtdag who had called him, but who more than him that had noticed the calling he could not perceive.

Hours passed. Some sweat formed on his forehead, but nothing else bore witness to the breakneck speed with which he was moving.

Yldrath liked Artos. A feeling which was based on how he had seen him grow up from a spoiled young man to a king who had found his calling; to serve his people and his country. Their friendship had begun when the former King had called him and said: 'Find out where Arkehtdag has disappeared, return him and see whether he can become king Artos, because my time runs to an end, and, if he cannot become king, do what else is necessary to maintain the honour of the royal family.' But that was a couple of hundred years ago.

And now it was the young man that had called him. But he must be old now, even dying, since he had not used the name Artos, but his birth name Arkehtdag in his summons.

Yldrath arrived at a road, scarcely more than a trodden path. He bored his shoes into the dry earth, closed his eyes and stood perfectly still. He heard the leaves above him move slowly. He perceived animals and insects happily working at their tasks. He could not feel any uneasiness among them, but he was sure something was wrong. But what? His powers returned annoyingly slow; the sharpness he had had in his senses was still far away. His hand touched his sword and he felt and received of its power; he must go eastward, but in that direction lay something that would try to stop him. This he could feel through, sword, body and earth. Well, may it be so.

He could travel even faster on the road he had found. Above, he felt the presence of a gyrfalcon. He reached out to it and took control of it; he had the bird dive downwards in order to see the trail better and studied it.

Around him squirrels gathered nuts for the winter, birds quarrelled or sang according to what kind of birds they were and what mood they were in. Insects were involved in thousands of chores among just as many different kinds of plants. The trees stood silent, listening, magnificent, untouched by human hands.

Yldrath could not discern anything but nature's everyday life. He released the bird, but when he did that the gnawing feeling came back, stronger. But it was an unclear feeling; whatever it was that threatened him, it was something he was not accustomed to, but it was close. He gripped his sword, and said its name Vehrmüll. Memories came back; the sword was his friend and would do its job when it was needed.

Hours passed. He used his powers to listen, now and then also using various animals that appeared near him. The journey continued with the same breath-taking speed. The feeling of being watched increased, but how he was being watched, he knew not. The sun, which had stood high and had shone strongly from a clear and blue sky, was nearing the horizon where a few clouds could be seen.

He came to a curve, and was forced to slow down somewhat. That's when it happened; something approached him with enormous speed. It was a small piece of heavy metal. He escaped it by turning in the air, but lost his balance and fell on the path with a dull thud. He decided to remain where he had fallen, and took control of a bird before it could fly away frightened by the sound of his fall. He let the bird fly higher, so he could see his attackers, which were dressed in clothes irregularly coloured in various shades of green and brown. They wore no swords, but strangely shaped knives. No, it was not knives they held in their hands, but machines with a pipe from which pieces of metal could be thrown out propelled by gases coming from a fast-burning fire. He knew about the principle, but it was not a principle known or applied in his world.

Yldrath could smell the warm earth. It felt safe. Above him he could hear the gentle rustle from the trees, and the birds, which had become silent, had started to chirp again.

One of the enemies said something in a language Yldrath didn’t understand, but that felt familiar. Where had he heard it before? He concentrated, and his mind became one with the sound of their voices. Old memories were activated; the words took on meaning, and he understood.

I think I got him, sarge. The voice was coarse and professional.

Can you see him? A bright eager voice, nervous.

I can see the back of him said the coarse voice. Well, he lies there. I got a clean shot on him, he must be dead.

A third voice, clear and precise: Can you get another shot at him?

The coarse voice replied, No, sarge. Sorry, it's not his back I see, just a backpack or something.

All right, Tom. Sven and Anders, approach him on the left. Make sure that you don’t get in the way of Tom; Tom must have a clear view at all times. Be cautious. Shoot if he moves. No, shoot as soon as you can get a clear shoot at him. This bird is very dangerous, if we’re to believe what the Chief said. We can’t take any chances.

His attackers were not from his world! Anders and Sven moved towards him.

Make sure that Tom has a clear view! Does the sarge think we are kids? And not a cigarette for several months. The man called Anders scratched himself. But no mosquitoes. That’s nice but weird.

Shhh. Shut up you idiot. You can complain later. Sven's bright voice became even more eager, almost childish.

I didn’t complain, no mosquitoes is just wonderful. Idiot, you can be yourself. Perhaps we can get some of that swell beer again.

Hell Anders! Don’t speak so loud. He must be there in front of us behind the bush there.

The men approached slowly. They were used to move in the woods, but bored and too sure of themselves. Or was it perhaps he who was too confident? Yldrath smiled. With a swift motion he rolled away under a blackberry bush brimming with berries. Yldrath picked a few, they were ripe with a fruity aroma; the taste was invigorating.

Whispering: Sven. He’s gone. I can’t see him.

Hell! Didn’t I know this would happen. And you just blabbing on. Sven lifted his walkie-talkie. Tom! Sarge! The target has moved. The target must be assumed to be alive.

The two men stopped, and looked at each other. Anders pointed with his hand. Sven nodded and they began a pincer movement around the blackberry bush that hid Yldrath.

The men arrived. With a new quick movement Yldrath rose and said, Good morning, gentlemen, Sven and Anders. The blackberries taste delicious. Do you want to taste them? A moment of astonishment was followed by raised weapons. Not so, gentlemen. Yldrath raised his hand and said two words in an ancient language.

Anders froze but Sven began firing. Yldrath jumped up several meters in the air, rolled through the air and took cover behind a large stone.

Hell, he flies like a bloody bird! Sven's bright voice broke, became shrill.

That was close. Something protected one of the men from his powers, but why had he not felt it? Better to get away until he could gather more information about what was going on. Yldrath stood up, brought his hands together in front of him in a circular movement, and turned his hands so the palms came outwards. With his arms thus in a semicircle in front of him, he quickly said three words, and a green stone on a ring on his left hand began to shine. He came loose from the ground and the forest and entered what his father called Shadowland. He heard his father’s words, 'Your ring Ildrath is a powerful stone, but when you get into Shadowland you must make sure that your thoughts are focused. Otherwise you may get stuck there, and without even realizing you’re stuck. It has happened to greater people than you and me." Yldrath saw how Sven, now like a shadow, with his weapon ready, came up behind the large stone where he had hidden.

Hell! Where is he?

Yldrath decided to leave. The power of the green stone carried him, like a ghost, through shadows of trees, stones, everything.

When he had travelled several kilometres he saw a meadow; he uttered a word, and he was back. The warmth of the sun and the sounds of the forest met him in a friendly embrace. You travel quickly through Shadowland, but sounds and other impressions wanes, and so do emotions if you travel without devices that protect you; eventually you become indifferent, and finally paralyzed. And since shadows don’t hide you like real matter, others can easily spot you. But he felt sure he had not been detected this time. In any case, the risk he had taken, he had already taken, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

Yldrath sat down on the grass in the meadow. He took out a belk, a short brown strap of concentrated food, which typically contained dried corn, or fruit, often mixed with dried meat and spices. He began to methodically grind down the strap between his teeth. The salty bitter taste was made even poorer with the fresh blackberry flavour still in memory, but he needed food. And he needed more information, so he would rest for a while, and listen in to what his enemies were talking about. Slowly and very gently he let his mind find a way back, searching for someone who could help him to listen and see. A squirrel had to interrupt its busy work collecting acorns to become Yldrath’s spy. Yldrath led the squirrel towards where he had left the soldiers.

But I'm telling you. He flew up in the air like a damn bird or something, and when I looked behind the stone, where he had flown, he was there a brief moment and then he simply vanished. Just poff and he was gone. I don’t understand how you couldn’t see how he vanished. Poff! Sven clapped his hands, sat down abruptly and glared at Anders.

I saw nothing because I sort of fainted, or something. I told you! Anders took up a large cone from the ground and showed it to Sven. They say this is a pinecone. I doubt it. It’s different from the pinecones where I live. He threw it away and sat down carefully next to Sven. I’ve said it before and I say it again. There's something strange about this place as if we’re on another planet. There’s something they're not telling us. And now this, it’s weird, I tell you.

The crackling of a stick that broke announced the entrance of a slim soldier accompanied by three soldiers. He was wearing the same outfit in green and brown hues as they wore, but his dress was impeccable, as if a tailor had sewn it. And what would that be Anders? The man had a sharp clear, precise, voice. When Anders didn’t answer the man continued. What exactly happened?

I don’t know Captain. I followed Sven, and we sneaked up on this guy. I on one side and Sven on the other side of a large bush, and when we arrived on the other side we saw him lie on the ground, partly covered by the bush. And then as fast as you couldn’t believe it, he stood up and said:  'Good morning, gentlemen, Sven and Anders.' He spoke with an accent but it was no problem to understand him. Talk about a shock to hear him talk like that and that he knew our names. Then he started saying something about blackberries, I think, and then before I could take a shot at him he simply vanished. The next thing I remember is Sven shaking me and yelling at me. It was like waking up from sleeping, even though I was standing up. Completely weird.

Do you have the necklace with the white stone, we got from the Chief?

Yes sir, here in my pocket. Anders took out a necklace with a heavy chain whose sole decoration was a white stone set in the same dark metal as the chain.

The captain turned to Sven. And you?

Oh yes sir, it hangs beautifully around my neck here.

So Anders had it in his pocket and fell asleep, but Sven had it around his neck and didn’t fall asleep?

Yes, sir?

Simple, Anders. Hang it around your neck you too and you will not fall asleep like that again.

Anders started to put the necklace back into his pocket, but changed his mind when he saw the captain's gaze, and hung the necklace around his neck.

Fine as a babe, with a cheap heavy necklace.

Did you say anything Anders? The captain looked straight at him.

No, sir. Nothing at all. He looked down.

The captain looked away, and began to absentmindedly twirl a stick. We've been here a long time now, but I believe that since we missed our target today we’ll return to base camp. There’s no justification for remaining here anymore. I wonder what the Chief thinks about today's fiasco. We’ll hardly get any bonus for what we did today. That’s for sure.

It became quiet among the men as if the captain had cast a spell for a mild depression over them.

Yldrath let the squirrel approach them somewhat.

But we’ll still become very rich. Very rich indeed. There’s a great need for cheap raw metals. Particularly in Asia; China cries out for raw materials. The captain got up.

Look captain. A spy among us. Sven smiled and pointed at a squirrel that sat looking at them some distance away. Sven's smile froze and died when the captain took out a gun and shot the squirrel. The last Yldrath heard was Sven who with a strained voice cried: But that's only a. . .

When Yldrath became conscious again he felt as if his head was wrapped in several layers of warm wet towels that someone jumped on, hard and rhythmically.

Yldrath clasped his head with his hands and uttered something that sounded like: Uffg ungg Ohhhh. Inside his head a myriad of provoked angry hornets buzzed.

Judging from the sun he had been knocked out for several hours.

It was the second time in his life that he had been in contact with another mind when it ceased to exist. There was clearly something wrong with these people. Why had they not merely driven away the squirrel? A life is after all a life. He would not hesitate to kill hundreds of wolves if it was needed to save a human being, but killing ought to be the last choice, and taken only when all other options had been tried.

The captain must know much more than his men, because he had immediately grasped what the squirrel could be. But, his men were just hired tools, and if they were not very careful they would be thrown away at the first opportunity.

Yldrath recognized the attitude; they had one single aim: to get rich. Power was everything and respect for life and honour was nothing. But he also felt there was something else to it, as if this one single aim of becoming rich was no longer just the objective but also the very ethics and purpose of their lives.

He took a bite from a piece of belk, the chewy leather like strap. He ate slowly and drank water from a container. The heavy throbbing in his head abated and the imaginary angry hornets flew a bit further away.

He had lost precious time so he would have to risk travelling through Shadowland again. He stood up, but had to sit down again when the buzz in his head exploded into an awful symphony. No, Shadowland had to wait a while; it was too dangerous to travel that way in his present condition.

The sun was low and night was preparing to take over. The forest had changed and huge trees with enormous treetops dominated. The ground was covered with dark green mosses.

Yldrath tripped and fell. The moss was soft. Sleep! I can sleep later he told himself, but the moss was cosy and welcoming and he dozed off.

Yldrath sat up. A sense of shame came over him. How could he have fallen asleep? He was no little child. He had lived for thousands of years. His name was both respected and feared.

This would not do. Yldrath opened his knapsack and took out a small box, finely decorated with intricate patterns. He said three words, the box lit up with intense light and the cover opened. The box contained a dozen tablets in various colours. He looked at the tablets and hesitated, but then he took a yellow tablet and swallowed it. The effect was instantaneous, the fatigue vanished, and the throbbing in his head fell so it was barely noticeable.

He had never entered Shadowland when he lived on borrowed strength. ‘To venture into Shadowland requires great strength. Never go there unless you have enough strength to handle it. Never!’ Yldrath remembered his father's words, but now it was he who was the teacher. Always time for something new. Yldrath stood up and made the same circle with his arms as before, said the same words and entered Shadowland again.

The shadows were more distinct than he had ever seen them before, but when he tried to move forward it was sluggish, like swimming in water, and his thoughts came slowly.

A huge squirrel appeared in front of him and then burst into pieces. Yldrath shook his head; he must not lose his concentration. His head was pounding as if he stood next to a big hammer angrily banging away on iron bars. He heard his father: 'Shadowland derives its name from how things in our world become stripped-down so they resemble shadows.’

How long had he been stuck in Shadowland? He tried to think but his thoughts insisted on going their own ways. His father’s voice, 'And just as the Shadowland is a stripped down reality, you can also go into a Shadowland of the Shadowland, where the shadows are shadows of shadows.’

A little boy inquired, ‘And why would you want to do that Dad?"

His father, with his white beard, had turned his face towards him and replied: ’For the same reason that you enter Shadowland: Speed! If you enter the Shadowland of the Shadowland, you can move with speed unimaginable.’

'Fast and faster,' had his father bellowed and thrown him up into the air, so he had flown several meters upwards. He had laughed with the joy of being with his father and from the tingle in his belly. ‘Have you been in the Shadowland of Shadowland?’

'No, my son. It's too dangerous and something you only do as a last resort and only if you’re a great magician, greater than I am.’

‘But you're the greatest dad!’ And his father had been that, as all sons believe before they become too grown up.

Well, he sure needed to go fast now; a pain was growing in his breast and he had trouble breathing. A blue ring on his right hand shone. Balfyhmn. Its protective qualities had been activated. Well then, now was time to see if he was a great magician; he had to break free. Yldrath fought to form the words ‘Pent Maxum Herlzom. . . .‘ The simple opening words were followed by words aged beyond comprehension. They came slowly, but the long training and the many preparations for just such an event as this paid off.

The sluggishness left him. He was able to move again, and he moved fast! The throbbing in his head came back and increased to cruel levels, but Yldrath kept moving. He knew that if he stopped, all could end here. He became a light that shone over the shadows he passed, fuzzy shapes: The Ocean Würl; the countries Ardamena, Timanos, and Stipa; then, the mountain range that had given its name to the Kingdom of Artos; Artos’ Mountains, grew with monstrous speed, but Yldrath was unable to carry himself over the mountains, so he went right through them. Everything was possible, as in a dream.

Arythos came into sight, the part of Artos where the King lived in his castle Mevyr in the city of Gülldvyr. Yldrath sent out his mind, felt for the king and found him just as he noticed another light approaching with reckless speed, it was a woman. A proud woman immersed in bright light with a chin like a male, intensive commanding eyes and a confident smile on her lips. Like a white marble statue of a vanished great, but ruthless, queen. She opened her mouth.

Yldrath said a word, flashes of light as he passed protections set up around the castle Mevyr, and then he stood before the king's bed. The candles, on a table close to him, fluttered wildly. I'm here my king. Yldrath collapsed.

Guards rushed forward and one of them knelt down beside Yldrath and examined him. He’s cold and wet, like a newly caught fish. Then immediately, I apologize, Sire. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.

The King laboriously rose up and looked at Yldrath. Let me see his face! The king looked for a long time on Yldrath’s face and then leaned back against the bed. So he has come, Yldrath. In a loud voice: Call for the Royal Physician! Then barely audible, Make sure that you take good care of him.

Yldrath had come, but in what condition was he? What could have happened to him?

- 3 -

Yldrath woke up in a huge soft bed with a feeling of emptiness that soon turned into a feeling of despair. An elderly man and two women stood close to the bed.

He ought to be glad at having arrived, but what had it not cost him; much of the strength that he had painstakingly built up had been spent. Well, his strength had been enough to take him to his goal.

The white woman he had glimpsed was a threat. He felt that instinctively. Could she have followed him here? Could the protection he had set up for the castle a long time ago have failed? He must know. Give me my knapsack. His voice was weak but made the elderly man flinch.

Oh, you’re feeling better now, your excellency. That’s good, so good. But you must rest, sir.

Yldrath gazed at the man. Give me my knapsack.

The old man hesitated, but then he walked over to a table, picked up a knapsack and gave it to Yldrath. From his knapsack Yldrath took out a small box made of wood. The box had symbols written on it. Yldrath said its name Vinred and the box opened showing a small white ball resembling a pearl. Yldrath placed it on the blanket and began to sing, first softly, but then with increasing tone of voice. The ball rose up from the bed and grew willowy branches; the branches got leaves, all white. It grew into a shrub with tiny white leaves on delicate branches, and all the time Yldrath sang. The elderly man and the two women watched fascinated what happened.

Yldrath stopped singing. Unveil every threat in and around the castle Mevyr. Nothing happened. Yldrath clapped his hands lightly and the white bush began to rotate in a circle and fall into pieces; the pieces formed a model of the castle, which Yldrath studied carefully. He clapped his hands again and the model disappeared leaving the pearl, which he put back into the small wooden box.

He had not seen anything that indicated that the protection, he had set up in the castle several hundred years ago, was affected, but he still felt uncertain. Give me something to drink. One of the women turned to a table where there were a few glasses and a beaker. She turned so quickly that she almost fell over the table.

Ylwa! The elderly man glared at the woman who hastily filled a glass and gave it to the man who brought it to Yldrath. The drink was sweet and cold. He drank sparingly and waited for his thoughts to become clearer. Too much of his strength had been used up; he had to use more cunning in the future.

That the white woman had intercepted him showed considerable knowledge about him; it indicated intimidating insight into how he acted and thought.

He had to meet the King, but would the king be able to help him? From what he had seen, he understood that the king was ill and weak. He started to get up but had to lie down again. Reluctantly he opened his knapsack and pulled out the elegantly designed metal box. He uttered the words and the box opened. He selected a white pill that he swallowed with a sip from the glass. His strength came back, not as fast this time, but adequately.

Take me to the king. The elderly man looked at him without comprehension. He opened his mouth but before he had time to protest he was interrupted by Yldrath We’ll go to the king. Help me to dress.

Yldrath stood in front of the king's bed. It stood in a large room filled with a wealth of lit candles, which flickered anxiously. The elderly man and the two women stood behind him. A dozen soldiers watched him vigilantly, as if he was a dangerous prisoner who must be carefully guarded. A bit away from them was a group of younger men who Yldrath understood were the sons of the king.

My king, my friend, and my brother in arms. The combination of conventional forms of address, which indicated that Yldrath was both subject and equal, made many faces look at him with surprise.

My king, my friend, and my brother in arms, Yldrath repeated. We need to talk about things that should not be heard by too many ears.

The king looked at him. Everybody shall leave the room, except Podrg and Yldrath. Nothing happened. The king waved irritably with his hand and people began to move. When they had left the room, Yldrath continued. It pains me to see you like this Artos.

And it hurts me to see you arrive as a wet fish Yldrath. Both men smiled. The king went on, I would rather sit down in front of a fire with some good beer and talk about old times. Do you remember that boat journey so long ago when you became so seasick?

If I remember correctly, it was you who became seasick Artos.

Yes, perhaps it was so. The king's smile disappeared and his face grew old. There is, indeed, much else I would rather talk about, but I’m old and my strength is running out. I fear for my kingdom and those who live in it. The king held out his hand towards Yldrath, but when he could not reach him he let his arm fall down on the bed. You know that I wouldn’t have called you if I saw any alternative. Yldrath nodded and waited for the king to continue. I can’t pinpoint it; it’s as seeing something in a mist. It’s a threat to the kingdom that I don’t quite understand and . . . I feel that none of my sons can shoulder the responsibilities because of this threat. You must find an heir who has the insight, the courage, and the daring needed in this situation. But then I'm not even sure what’s needed. The king sketched feebly with his arms in front of him. I just don’t know! The King closed his eyes, sighed and then looked at Yldrath.

Yldrath nodded. It’s a great threat. I have already encountered it and just barely survived it. Most of my protection and my strength have been exhausted and it will take time to rebuild that again unless. . Yldrath fell silent.

Unless what? The king looked intensely at him. Yldrath remained silent a long while, but then said, Unless a sacrifice is performed.

The king lay back in bed and appeared to fall asleep, then said merely, Aha. After a couple of minutes he leaned forward. You’re thinking about the great stone? Sthorstein?

I see you brought up the round stone. It has not been sufficient to reveal who you should choose for a successor?

I did not use it for that. Do you think? . . . It was sufficient to call for you though. The king lay back again and sighed heavily.

No, you're right, it hasn’t got the power for finding a new heir.

I did the right thing then? The king smiled and something defiant, youthful, shone in his face. You’re here now Yldrath, so what do we do?

The round stone is the key to Sthorstein in a like manner as your Thorvad is the key to the round stone.

The king seized the rounded metal container on his necklace. I know but. . . The king became pensive. The great stone has not been used for how long I don’t know. I would have to talk to the first scribe to know when it was last used. Some say that Sthorstein doesn’t even exist. I’ve never seen it myself. Have you?

Yldrath smiled but there was no joy in his smile. You forget how old I am. When we had our adventures together we seemed to be of equal age, did we not? But see how I’m now, young again. Yldrath looked up at the ceiling but there was no escape for him there. I've seen the great stone. I was here when I and my father put Sthorstein under the castle. And we used its true name; I know its true name.

So it's true then. And you can use it. I see.

Yldrath looked straight at the king. The threat we face is different from what I’ve encountered before. This is not just about combatants with mighty weapons; it has the foul taste of some deep and old evil. Yldrath’s face became hard. It’s an offspring of the battle which started in time immemorial, between the way of giving and the way of taking; the ways of Ehl’Ge’tild and Ihl’S’told. The two ways that were set up before space and time existed, when nothing but words existed; the ancient words that created this world, and all the other worlds, according to legends.

The king's face paled. But how can we withstand something like that? If it comes to mobilizing armies, and leading them into battle, this I can do, but if it's the ancient struggle that has come back?

People have resisted it before.

But how, if . . ?

You misunderstood me. It's the same struggle - for it’s always the same struggle - but this time it’s worse; battles between armies will be secondary. The decisive battles will be between the forces primeval words can call forth.

The forces you can control with ancient words?

Yes, of course, but there is power in other words too; intentions can be concealed with words; scams and frauds are born through words crafted to give people what they want to have.

Not all is new then?

Yldrath smiled. True, nothing is ever really new, but this fight is being carried out without reservations, as if they’re proud of how they can deceive others by exploiting people's sense of justice and honesty.

You talk a bit like in riddles, but I sense that I was right about my sons; they don’t have what it takes.

We need a leader who has already fought the struggle between the two ways and chosen the way that provides, chosen Ehl’Ge’tild.

Where in my kingdom, can we find such a leader?

We’ll find him in a place where this evil has taken over the heart of most people, but where the evil, and its temptations, has been withstood by this person. But enough of talk. The matter is urgent. If we’re to get the powerful tools we need, we must to go to the great stone.

The legends tell about a sacrifice. A human sacrifice.

It’s true.

The king sighed. So be it.

I’m not afraid to die, my king. Podrg looked straight at the king who smiled at him. Not you, my dear Podrg.

But. . . , The king interrupted him. Let’s go to Sthorstein and a sacrifice.

And a sacrifice, echoed Yldrath silently. He opened his silver-like container and gave a white pill to the king.

The king stood up. Call upon my servants.

Yldrath felt dead inside.

- 4 -

Sthorstein was huge, circular and about three meters in diameter. It resembled something carved out of rough grey stone.

Meet Sthorstein. Yldrath’s voice echoed through the cavern they were in – far below the castle. He stood in front of the stone together with King Artos, Podrg, the king's sons and several guards. To get to Sthorstein countless walls and gates had been opened or broken up using brute force and, often, through the powers Yldrath could put to use.

Yldrath was sweating and staggered, but he was burning with excitement. Place the round stone on Sthorstein. The men carrying the round stone - which had turned black again - panted heavily as they walked over and put it on Sthorstein. Yldrath took the facet cut transparent Thorvad from Artos and placed it in the middle of the round stone; it found the friendly cavity again and disappeared. Yldrath said a word and the round stone became transparent and floated upwards to stop about three meters above Sthorstein.

The true name of Sthorstein must not be uttered unless you know how to control it. Prepare yourself. Yldrath held up his hands as if he was about to warm himself in front of a big fire; he drew in his breath and said the true name of Sthorstein.

A sharp shock went through the room and dust fell down on them. Podrg looked up and gasped. Where previously only a rough-hewn ceiling of stone had been dimly glimpsed in the torch light, a clear night sky filled with numerous bright stars could now be seen. Yldrath looked briefly at Podrg. What you see is the sky that existed when Sthorstein was born long ago.

It's deep . . . it’s . . . what a picture.

This is no picture. It's the actual sky when the stone came into being.

Podrg frowned.

We see through time.

How?

Yldrath smiled cryptically. The stone needs to feel right at home.

Podrg was about to ask more but realized that Yldrath probably didn’t know more and kept silent.

Yldrath waited patiently in front of Sthorstein and studied its jagged grey surface closely; if a stone has slept for millennia you must permit it some time to awaken from its slumber. A pattern appeared for a brief moment, but it was so faint that only Yldrath’s trained eyes could see it; at once Yldrath uttered a sound, a word.

The pattern showed itself again, still illegible but more distinct. Yldrath spoke another word, and so it went on faster and faster, each word making the pattern more distinct.

A sharp rasping and Sthorstein rose up and floated in front of them. The smaller round stone above it began to shine with a dazzling light, but the light was bent and drawn - like thin mist - into Sthorstein eating the light.

Sthorstein began to rotate slowly and pieces of the stone's surface came loose and fell crashing to the ground.

Liberated from its surface layer, naked, Sthorstein revealed itself as a pitch black stone with oval shaped edges. The stone absorbed light so it grew dark around them and it became difficult to see. A queer dull rumbling, which increased in strength, came from the stone. Old dust and plaster began falling down from the walls of the cavern. Podrg shuddered; he sensed uncontrollable alien forces furious at having been awakened.

People moved instinctively away from the unknown, from the stone. Only the king and Podrg kept their positions directly behind Yldrath.

Sthorstein is from another universe from which this world, and all the other worlds that now exist, once were created. Therefore it’s above all these worlds and can exercise power over all that’s in the worlds that now exists.

How did it get to our world?

I don’t know Podrg. I only know that it was placed here by my father and me a long time ago.

Sthorstein finally calmed down and all that was heard was a faint hum, the crackling from the torches they had brought with them, and an occasional crash from pieces that still fell down from the walls.

But it needs a sacrifice, said the king. The sons looked uneasily at their father.

Yldrath laid his hand on the king's shoulder. Yes it needs a sacrifice and the nobler the sacrifice, the greater is the power given by the stone to those who perform the sacrifice.

Let the sacrifice then be me, said the king.

Podrg looked at the king. No! My king. If there must be a sacrifice in this . . . this spectacle, then it must be someone else. Take me!

The king smiled at Podrg You’re not noble enough Podrg. Podrg’s eyes grew large, then angry, then sad to finally express the deepest of despair.

The King placed himself in front of Yldrath. The guards started to move but came to a halt when the King raised his hand. I know what I am doing. I take everyone here as a witness, that what happens here, is done according to my own free will. The king looked sternly around at the people. It is done on my royal command!

He looked at his eldest son Anvar. I also leave my kingdom in the hands of Yldrath until he has appointed someone else to rule the kingdom.

Father! But father?

You didn’t protest when I said I should be sacrificed. But you protest when you don’t inherit the Kingdom? Anvar?

Anvar bent down his face.

Podrg write down what I said and then read it out to us all. After having done that, all here shall witness it, and they shall swear by our kingdom and by fate that they’ll honour what has been written down. And I mean everyone!

So it was done.

The king stood in front of Yldrath. I'm ready.

Yldrath drew his sword, examined it carefully and then looked at the king. I don’t know if I'm ready Artos.

The king looked back at Yldrath and said mildly, You’re ready and so is your sword Vehrmüll.

Yldrath didn’t move.

I'm living on borrowed strength from your magic medicine, Yldrath. You know that I’m as good as dead. My time is up, so this is a cheap price to pay for protecting the way of Ehl’Ge’tild. Do it now.

Yldrath breathed in deeply and said with a strong voice This man, Artos, King of the Kingdom of Artos, is my friend and he has saved my life several times. I take his life in order to save his kingdom. A moment of silence, their eyes met in a farewell; Yldrath raised his sword high. The sword went down in a quick arc and separated King Artos head from his body. And Yldrath who had not cried in a thousand years cried.

Two tears fell down and touched the floor, but returned from the floor regaining their drop form. Leisurely they hovered in front of Yldrath’s face, became denser, and changed colour; crystal clear they turned into whitish, and then pinkish, ending in red burgundy, like good wine. Yldrath took them and threw them at Sthorstein, which was now a huge spinning horizontal wheel.

Is here no other here today who loved Artos more than his own life? Yldrath’s voice was high, shrill. He stared at the others who stood still, as if frozen solid. Yldrath saw two hovering white droplets in front of Podrg and a smile of joy flew over his face.

Podrg! Grab thy tears and throw them into Sthorstein. Now!

Fumbling Podrg took hold of the two white droplets in front of him, walked a few steps towards the stone; stopped. Use them well Sthorstein, he whispered, and threw them resolutely at the wheel, where they were sucked into it. The wheel now rotated very fast.

Yldrath’s gaze ran over the others who were in the hall and again a smile flashed across his face.

You there! Do the same with your tears. Yldrath’s words came like a whip. A young man with tousled hair looked at Yldrath in surprise. He was so thin that he gave the impression of having grown too quickly. The boy, for he was not much more than that, pushed forward through the soldiers to Yldrath. I don’t understand, he began. Yldrath raised his arm. Just throw your tears into Sthorstein.

The spinning wheel, he added when he noticed the confusion in the young man’s face. The boy’s face cleared and he threw his droplets.

Sthorstein rotated at such a breakneck speed that it created a wind through the cavern – and heat. The stone was hot but pitch black.

No more tears? Anvar?

Anvar lowered his head again.

Yldrath said words he had used before, and then words that sounded strange and unnatural, and finally words that the ear fought to avoid letting in.

The wheel rotated at an impossible speed, and the wind created by it threatened to blow out their torches; its form now resembled blackish liquid. Yldrath staggered and Podrg and a guard reached out their hands to support him.

Yldrath stopped uttering words and clapped his hands. The wheel stopped immediately without a sound, fell back to the ground and got back its colour of grey stone, but it was much smoother than before. Above Sthorstein, but under the smaller round stone, floated the tears. They had turned into stones set in three necklaces.

Go forward and take your necklaces. They will not remain there for long.

The youth went up but hesitated. How do I know which necklace is mine? There are two that look exactly alike!

Stretch out your hand and you will feel if it's yours.

The necklaces were richly ornamented in patterns which in turn were composed of patterns in layer upon layer. The youth’s and Podrg’s necklaces were alike with two white stones, but Yldrath’s was the most beautiful, with two shimmering burgundy stones.

Be sure to take care of Artos body. Make everything ready for the burial of a King. Yldrath turned abruptly and started to walk back. The others followed. Artos had been right about his sons. Not a single tear had they shed!

- 5 -

The funeral had been impressive. Gülldvyr's population had gone out en masse and shown their appreciation of a king who had ruled the country wisely for more than a hundred years. Everyone had been dressed in black, except Yldrath who had worn a white robe embroidered in various designs of silver, gold and red. It had made him stand out, but had also fuelled the resentment many felt; in the eyes of many, Yldrath had stolen the kingship from its rightful heir. Few were able to understand or forgive what he had done; least of all Anvar who had lost the throne he must have thought was safely within his reach. He, and the other sons, treated him with a distanced formal correctness that bordered on the insulting.

He ought to eliminate the sons, since discontented sons could easily become tools in the hands of the enemy, but he could not persuade himself to do that. There are many things you ought to do, but which you don’t do and therefore cause unwanted consequences. Surely, he must have read that somewhere. He sighed.

A discrete coughing awakened him from his contemplations. He was together with Podrg and the young man, whose name was Stelldan, in a room high up in one of the castle's many towers. Podrg looked tired as if the battle was already lost. Stelldan looked as confused as his hair was tousled; each hair strand with its own unique idea of how hair should grow.

Come with me. Yldrath led them out on a balcony. The afternoon sun transformed everything into a shimmer of light and warmth. The air tingled with life. High above them cried sea gulls. Yldrath breathed in the air with the intensity of someone trying to memorize every single detail he experienced. The view was spectacular.

They stood there for a while and enjoyed the view; towers, roofs, birds and, far away, the sea and farm fields. And, behind them, to the west and southwest, lay the mighty Artos’ mountains.

Always remember: this is what we defend. And what lies beyond this; the whole Kingdom of Artos. Yldrath swept his hand over the scenery.

It was for this and the people who inhabit this land that Artos lived and died. It’s for this we shall fight, so that people can follow the way of Ehl’Ge’tild, the way that provides, without being cheated and devoured by those that follow the way of taking, the way of Ihl’S’told. Yldrath’s face grew ugly.

He knew what the way of taking lead to: People who regarded others not as fellow citizens but as tools to achieve their own purposes using inventive excuses and reasons why it should be so, was best for all that it was so.

They went back into the room where their necklaces lay waiting for them on a small round table. Yldrath remained standing while the others sat down. We have a major threat to deal with and these necklaces will provide us with the power we need.

No one replied.

In order for a necklace to work well it must be linked to the user through a title, which I’ll bestow on each of you.

Podrg, you will henceforth be known as: ‘Podrg the noble.’

Podrg’s eyes turned to Yldrath.

That’s what King Artos thought about you.

But the king said I was not. . .

You know better than that Podrg. Listen to your heart; there you will find the truth. Yldrath let his words sink in.

These necklaces were born out of love and it’s through love we can take part of their power. It’s not about simple infatuation, of course. He smiled. "No, it’s about the deep love that makes a man willing to suffer, and perhaps even to die, for a great cause or another person. For us, it will be our love of King Artos, his country and the inhabitants of this country that will guide us.

When you need to use the power of a necklace, you must create a mental picture of love. It’s from this image you put together the thought of what action it is you need to happen. The necklace will do the rest."

Yldrath fell silent in order to give them time to absorb what he had said.

Stelldan looked at Yldrath and swallowed a