The Magic Blade: Fantasy

By Alfred Bekker

The Magic Blade: Fantasy

Fantasy novel by Alfred Bekker

 

 

 

The size of this ebook is equivalent to 493 paperback pages.

 

"Know, ye posterity, that it was a dark time. A time when magic and the sword ruled, a time of mighty gods and glorious heroes; a time filled with the noise of countless battles. Mighty empires crumbled into dust, and at the end of that age, even the gods were chased from their thrones on the misty peaks of the sacred mountain...

But in that time lived Mergun of Wolf Island, a barbarian and adventurer, an outcast and a damned...

O hear now his story. The story of that man who later was to overthrow the gods themselves and end an eon..."

 

Mergun the Wanderer hardens his sword in the Magic Fire and thereby gains the power to kill the immortal gods. The unspeakable suffering of mortals leads him to fight the gods. But when he destroys two of them in cruel battle, he becomes an immortal himself and faces a fateful decision.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Jan 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215827017

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

Book preview

FIRST BOOK: A spell to burn the gods

"Know, ye posterity, that it was a dark time. A time when magic and the sword ruled, a time of mighty gods and glorious heroes; a time filled with the noise of countless battles. Mighty empires crumbled into dust, and at the end of that age, even the gods were driven from their thrones on the misty peaks of the sacred mountain Uytrirran...

But in that time lived Mergun of Wolf Island, a barbarian and adventurer, an outcast and a damned...

O hear now his story. The story of that man who later was to overthrow the gods themselves and end an eon..."

THE BOOK MERGUN

1

Mergun was a wanderer.

He had already traveled halfway around the world, treading the soil of a hundred countries and sailing most of the world's seas.

He had already looked down on a thousand valleys from a thousand heights, just as he was now looking down on this valley from this height.

All the time he had been wandering around the world, traveling to foreign countries and continents, he had been searching and longing for something that he actually had no clear idea of.

He only knew that it was an unspeakably distant and enchanted land that he was searching for.

The name of this land was Dhum.

It was a name that sounded both foreign and familiar to Mergun's ears. In Dhum, he hoped to find the fulfillment of his dreams and the meaning of his life. He sought answers to the probing questions within him.

And peace.

But Mergun did not know where to find that land of knowledge and fulfillment of dreams. He only suspected that he would have to travel a long way before he reached Dhum.

If this country existed at all, which was extremely controversial among scholars.

Perhaps Dhum was merely a fine web of imagination, longing, and a desire for truth and knowledge; a web spun by none other than Mergun himself.

But the lonely wanderer did not want to believe in that.

He continued to search.

Without purposefulness, but nevertheless the goal always before eyes; without direction and way and nevertheless not aimlessly.

2

A light wind blew and stirred up dust. It was a strange valley that Mergun now looked down upon. Full of ghostly, eons-old ruins, through which the wind whistled plaintively.

It must have been many thousands of years since people had last lived in this ghost town. Nothing remained of it but these ruins.

Even the name of this once certainly very splendid city was now forgotten. On his long way through many countries, none of which could become his home, Mergun had seen many ghost towns. But none had been like this one...

Mergun descended from the hill.

His soft, supple fur boots made no sound. And then he stood before the pillars of this vanished city, built eons ago. In a long forgotten language, verses were carved into the stone. But their meaning and significance were lost for all time.

What brings you to the forgotten valley of Grijang, strange wanderer? a voice suddenly asked.

In a flash, Mergun turned around and looked into knowing gray eyes. In front of him stood the figure of a man, whose face was framed by a gray beard and gray hair. The coat was also gray.

I didn't mean to frighten you, Mergun, the gray man then explained with a smile. He was neither an old man nor a young man, and yet he seemed to combine both. In a sense, he seemed to be timeless. It was impossible for Mergun to estimate his age.

You know my name? asked Mergun, somewhat taken aback.

Yes. The gray man spoke in a dark voice.

Mergun asked, Who are you?

Who am I? That's not important for you, Mergun. At least not yet. But if you want, call me Luun.

If you want? echoed Mergun.

I possess many guises and names. Luun is just one of them.

And what are you doing here?

What am I doing here? I was waiting for you until just now, Mergun. I want to show you something.

What?

Something of significance.

How did you know I would take this path, Luun? asked Mergun suspiciously.

I know many things, my friend, smiled the gray man.

Mergun's eyes became narrow slits.

And what do you want to show me?

The magic fire.

The magic fire?

Yes. Haven't you heard about the magic fire, Mergun?

No.

It is a dangerous fire, my friend. It has a green, cold flame and devours gods as well as mortals. That fire burns only in this valley, and he who summons it must move far enough from the ruins or the deadly flames will devour him as well. If a weapon has been tempered in the magical fire of Grijang, it can be used to kill even gods, for that weapon was created to burn the gods.

Mergun looked around.

The wind still whistled ghostly through the ancient ruins. Some dust swirled through the air.

There is a magic word, Mergun, with which you can call the magic fire, Luun said.

What's it called?

Come on, let's go to the top of the hill there!

Why?

In this place, I must not utter the magic word under any circumstances. The cold flames of the magic fire would kill us faster than an arrow could!

So they went up the hill.

Luun raised both hands to the clouds and called out:

Zoitaf-tjui-baak!

Luun's voice seemed to Mergun at that moment as powerful as that of a god. It thundered across the valley of Grijang and echoed many times. A chorus of ghostly echoes....

Poisonous green mushrooms of flame suddenly sprang up everywhere, lambent in the air. But these flames appeared only within the valley that Luun had called the Valley of Grijang. An invisible border seemed to keep the sea of flames in check.

The green flames possessed a terrible power. No one would have been able to oppose this power.

You have heard the magic word, Mergun. Do not utter it unless it is necessary, for every time you bring it to your lips - no matter where you are - the valley of Grijang is in flames.

Cold shivers ran down Mergun's spine as he gazed into the chaos of green flames.

How many gods and men might this fire have devoured?

It was a cruel fire.

But despite everything, it radiated a certain fascination. It captured Mergun's gaze and held him in its infinite and unfathomable chaos.

Zoitaf-tjui-baak! thundered Luun's voice again. And the whole haunting disappeared from one moment to the next.

Slowly Mergun began to sense that tremendous power which was connected with the magic word of the gray man.

He shuddered at this and wondered why the gray man had put this power into his hands.

Mergun, at any rate, did not thirst for power.

He had other longings.

Perhaps he would harden his sword in the strange flames of the magic fire to be armed against the gods.

But that's all he wanted.

Thoughtfully, he turned to Luun.

Why did you explain all this to me, Luun? Why did you tell me the magic word?

Luun smiled.

This smile could almost be called fatherly.

The magic fire will still play a decisive role in your life, Mergun. Perhaps very soon you will use this fire against the gods. It will be you who will free the people from the cruel gods who currently rule over the earth...

You know the future? asked Mergun somewhat incredulously, but Luun did not answer. His gray eyes scrutinized the mortal wanderer intently. A tremendous wisdom lay hidden in those gray eyes - the wisdom of entire ages and worlds. Never before had Mergun looked into such eyes.

He was not comfortable with Luun's words.

He had no desire to play the savior of mankind. People had lived with their gods since time immemorial. Many had forgotten them and created new ones for themselves.

Some were cruel and selfish. But what did he care about people and gods?

He was Mergun, who had set out to find a distant land where he hoped to find the meaning of his life and the fulfillment of his dreams.

People should overthrow their gods themselves if they were no longer satisfied with them!

As long as the gods do not try to dissuade me from my path, I will not fight them, the lone wanderer then declared with finality.

We'll see, Luun replied mysteriously.

There's nothing to see, Luun! I have other goals than you! And if you're so keen on overthrowing the gods, I wonder why you don't try it yourself!

You can't, my friend. Perhaps one day you mortals will understand why I cannot overthrow the gods and why you must do it yourselves!

With these words he turned away and left.

I'm leaving you now, Mergun!

Where are you going?

Anywhere. It doesn't matter to you. But we will meet again one day!

I think it's better if we don't meet again! shouted Mergun after him, but the strange man had already disappeared behind a hill.

For a moment the wanderer continued to look after him, but then he turned back to the valley of Grijang.

Zoitaf-tjui-baak! he shouted.

And again the dangerous green flames flickered up.

Mergun drew his sword, regarded it thoughtfully for a few moments, and then threw it into the chaos of green flames.

Then, as he gazed into the magical fire, he felt again that strange fascination that had captivated and gripped him once before.

Then his voice called out the mysterious magic word again and the magic fire disappeared as quickly as it had come. Mergun's sword lay in the dust. It glowed greenish.

He descended from the hill and took his gun back. It felt good to hold it in his hands.

A feeling of power. Mergun quickly sheathed his sword. He then gently stroked the hilt of the sword with his hand. It was a dangerous weapon that he now carried at his side.

Even the gods might be afraid of this blade....

For the last time, he turned his gaze to the dusty ruins. Then he continued on his way.

Oh, no, he had no intention of going against the gods of this world!

This matter was none of his business and he had no intention of interfering. He had a goal, albeit a very vague one, and he wanted to achieve it.

Silently, his fur boots carried him through the hilly landscape.

3

Mergun had been walking for many hours, when he suddenly noticed tents some distance away. It must be an army camp, the wanderer saw immediately.

Strange coats of arms could be seen on the flags waving in the wind. But Mergun did not know these coats of arms.

An army camp, Mergun thought. But who might go to war here?

Actually, Mergun could not care about all this, but for some reason curiosity plagued him.

Skillfully, he crept closer to the camp to see details. One of the tents was much larger than the others. In front of it stood a giant, six-legged horse. It stood motionless and dozed off.

Then a figure stepped out of the tent, like the horse of giant size.

Maybe this is what a god looks like, Mergun thought.

The figure had an almost barbaric appearance. It had a red beard, two short horns and four strong arms, each of which was as thick as a medium-sized tree trunk.

At the ends of each of these arms sat two mighty hands. In one of them he held a terrible trident.

He seemed to be the commander of this army, for everyone bowed to him. The soldiers standing to his right and left were distinctly big, strong guys.

But next to the giant, they seemed no more than medium sized. They barely went up to his chest.

Mergun crept a little closer to the army camp. The four-armed man interested him. And then the wanderer heard how the soldiers paid homage to the giant and worshipped him.

You are Taykor, our god! We follow you! they shouted loudly up to him. But in Taykor's face there was no emotion at all. It looked hard and was furrowed with wrinkles that must have come from inhuman rage and animalistic fury.

Taykor! Taykor! Our God! the soldiers shouted.

But with nothing the god showed that he perceived the homages of his followers and subjects at all.

Mergun was disgusted by this scene.

He decided to sneak away again to continue on his way. Moreover, he had the impression that it was not very advisable to stay longer than absolutely necessary in the vicinity of this god.

So he carefully made his way away.

He had seen enough.

In the distance, Mergun saw a gigantic procession of wagons, horsemen and foot soldiers approaching. Exactly was not to be recognized.

Reinforcements for Taylor's army, the wanderer concluded.

He wondered who was planning to fight whom. That platoon of soldiers was getting closer and closer and it seemed as if it would be endlessly long.

New troops kept pouring over the horizon, like a giant wave of the sea.

Wild and bloodthirsty, they waved their weapons and standards. Mergun doubted that these soldiers were even masters of themselves. In his eyes, they were nothing more than will-less puppets, hanging on strings spun by the gods.

It is a crime, it ran through Mergun. It is a crime: They will die by the thousands on the battlefields for a cause that is not theirs; fighting a battle that is none of their business.

Nothing at all. 

Now Mergun decided to leave this place. He knew that the gods sometimes reacted aggressively and unfairly when they were observed. And besides, what was all this to do with him? What did he care about the lust for power of a mad god?

And yet even Mergun could not conceal the dark fascination that emanated from the figure of Taylor.

Fascination, coupled with horror. Was it the physical size of this god that caused this? Or the strangeness of his form? Or perhaps the consuming, burning look of that monster, marked by madness and mental chaos?

Mergun had to be careful not to be seen.

Further and further he crept away and soon he had left the army camp of the god Taykor far behind him.

Quickly and almost silently, his legs carried him over the flat hills of this land.

Somewhere beyond the horizon lay Balan, the great port city on the coast of the Middle Sea: Balan, the capital of Balania.

Perhaps Mergun would sail east from Balan by ship. There, somewhere, lay the mountain of the gods, which the people called Uytrirran. He wanted to climb this mountain.

He would dare to do something that not even the mightiest of mortal heroes had dared to do before: he would seek out the home of the gods, provided the gods allowed it.

But even if he should meet a cruel end up there, on the summit of this mysterious mountain - the mountain of the gods represented perhaps a last hope for Mergun.

A hope to find that land for which he longed so much.

The gods possessed a book, which they themselves had written a long time ago. Mortals called it simply THE BOOK OF THE GODS. It was supposed to lie on a stone altar, high up on the seemingly unreachable summit of Uytrirran.

In it, it was said, all the magic and wisdom of the universe were found. Also the way to Dhum must be described here. Mergun hoped so, at least.

Once a mage had advised Mergun to climb the mountain of the gods. It had been some years ago, in a city whose name he could not now remember. He had followed the mage's advice, and now here he was: many thousands of miles from that city, lonely and torn.

The gods, Mergun thought. You meet them everywhere. In a thousand different shapes, faces, variations, robes and masks. And under a thousand different names, one of which is as false as the other. Where do they get the right to rule over the earth? Is it not merely the right of the strongest that they can invoke?

Mergun smiled cynically.

But what is all this to do with me? What do I have to do with this matter? I am free, I obey neither the people nor the gods and I go the way, which I have recognized as the right one...

For the lonely wanderer only Dhum was important.

For Dhum he would risk everything, use everything.

4

At last Mergun reached a road, which was a sign that he was now entering the civilized coastal region. He followed that road, assuming that it led to Balan. Great roads led to great cities.

After a while, he saw a small, dwarfish figure sitting on the side of the road.

The dwarf did not look up when Mergun approached and made a rather strange impression on him in other ways as well.

Heh, good day! exclaimed Mergun.

Two sad eyes looked up at him and Mergun shuddered at the sight of them.

Mergun had immediately recognized that this figure belonged to the people of the gnomes, who lived in the icy tundras of the northeast.

Do you have a moment? the gnome suddenly asked.

Mergun sensed the deep melancholy that spoke from the other's voice.

Time? What should I have time for? asked Mergun back.

Time to have a talk with me, stranger! Come, sit with me!

Mergun shrugged his shoulders.

Why not?

He was tired and had been walking for hours without taking a break. So he sat down with the gnome.

It's not like I want to take up your time without you getting anything in return, the gnome explained, and Mergun raised both eyebrows.

The little one didn't look like he could give away much. He seemed (like Mergun) to possess only what he wore on his body. A mocking smile played around the wanderer's mouth.

What do you want to give me? he asked with an ironic undertone.

The gnome's somber face brightened slightly for a fraction of a moment.

It all depends on what you want to have.

You better keep it to yourself, kid! You don't exactly look like a rich man to me.

I am a god.

Mergun frowned when he heard this.

He looked at the little gnome with the sad eyes in amazement.

You have not misheard at all, my friend! I am Shaykaliin, the smallest among the gods. And your name, strange wanderer? What is your name?

They call me Mergun.

All right, Mergun. Do you have a wish? Well? What is it? Would you like a bag of gold coins? Or a new pair of pants? A new belt?

Well, Mergun said, if that's the case.... I'm as hungry as a horse!

What do you want to eat? Fruit? Meat? Do you want wine?

Meat!

And suddenly there was a plate of steaming meat in Shaykaliin's hand.

He handed it to Mergun.

The latter could hardly believe what he had just seen with his own eyes.

Eat, Mergun. Eat and promise to listen to me. I need someone to listen to me. Someone who will accept me as I am, at least for now.

I will listen to you, Mergun promised, popping the first bite into his mouth. But first tell me why you are not on the mountain of the gods. After all, you are a god!

Oh, the gods leave their mountain very often - and not just to bring war and strife among men, although that is of course very common. Many of the gods were once human, and from time to time they remember their humanity and mingle with those whom the gods call the mortals.

Then the gods are rather strange creatures, Mergun grumbled.

That is indeed true. However, they are not only strange, but also of extreme cruelty.

You must know, Shaykaliin. After all, you are one of them.  Mergun shrugged his shoulders as he said this.

Ah, Shaykaliin said then, I wish I were not a god! But as it seems, I will probably not be able to change anything about my condition.

But why do you wish that, Shaykaliin? Why? Almost all mortals long to be a god.

The gnome shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes.

Maybe so, he said. I'm still unhappy. He sighed. The other gods don't take me seriously because I have less power than they do.

Mergun looked up from his plate of meat and saw the desperation in the other's eyes.

How is it that you have less power than the others?

I don't know. But I need power! If I had more power, people would respect me! The other gods were forced to do this!

The little god grinned audaciously and ugly.

And Mergun said, Well, if you sit around here, I don't think you're going to get any more power!

I had once hoped to find a spell in the Book of the Gods to gain more power, Shaykaliin then explained.

Mergun felt all the despair and powerlessness that plagued the gnome.

Well? asked the wanderer. Have you not found such a spell?

No.

Tell me more about that book!

What do you care about the book of the gods. You are a mortal.

Maybe I need a spell, too.

Oh, yeah?

I am looking for a land, unspeakably far away, known by the name of Dhum. There I can find the meaning of my life and the fulfillment of my dreams. But I do not know where this land lies. Now I intend to climb the Uytrirran to look for a clue in the Book of the Gods. A magician once told me that in this book the way to it is described...

Shaykaliin smiled cynically.

Yes, that may well be. And perhaps this book also contains a spell that could help me gain more power. But what good is that? The book is written in a forgotten language. Not even the gods themselves are able to remember the meaning of the squiggly runes in which it was written...

You forgot? echoed Mergun. How can you forget your language? Are the gods that stupid?

An irrepressible rage rose in the wanderer.

If what the little god had told him was true, there was no point in climbing the mountain of the gods.

Mergun's hands clenched involuntarily into fists. He let the slab of meat slide to the floor. This can't be true! he muttered softly, shaking his head and muttering something else unintelligible. A hope collapsed for him, a hope he had just clung to. For a moment, resignation spread through him.

It's all pointless, said a voice inside him, growing louder and louder. There is no sense! Your search has become futile. And wasn't it from the beginning? It may be that Dhum really exists, but it is certain that you have no possibility to penetrate into this land. And that alone is decisive...

I'm sorry for you, Mergun, Shaykaliin said, I think I can relate to what's going on inside you now. You're disappointed, aren't you?

Yes.

What should Mergun do now?

Maybe it would be good for me to leave for Dhum, too, the little god suddenly declared. It is good to find the meaning of one's life and the fulfillment of one's dreams. But I can't afford to embark on a long, uncertain and dangerous journey.

Why not? Aren't you a god?

Still...

I thought the gods could do whatever they pleased!

To mortals, they appear that way, it's true. But the reality is quite different.

And how?

Shaykaliin shrugged his narrow shoulders.

I have certain obligations as a god to mortals. I must not neglect them or they will forget me. And being forgotten is tantamount to death for a god.  Shaykaliin seemed to shudder.

Mergun said, I thought you were immortal.

Oh, no! Even we gods have to pass away - although many of us don't want to admit it. We die as soon as no one believes in us and follows us and... He hesitated.

And what?

Fear us, the little god finished in a trembling voice. The mortals determine our fate...

Why do the gods lie to themselves by refusing to acknowledge this?

Because they are like children, Mergun. Like children playing, whose toys happen to be the world. I, too, am a child.

But his big, sad eyes gave him the lie.

5

Day after day passed.

Mergun continued to wander along the dusty road that must eventually lead him to Balan.

Shaykaliin, the little god, he had left behind where he had met him. The gnome had not been persuaded to come with him to the city.

Cruel people live there, praying to an even crueler God.

The land became steadily flatter - a sign that Mergun was approaching the coast.

It had been a long time since he had last seen a coast and a harbor. He longed for it, because the sea symbolized freedom for him. He liked the smell of seaweed and salt and the sound of the surf....

6

At some point on his way, Mergun met a merchant who was also heading towards Balan with his primitive cart, which was not pulled by a particularly magnificent horse.

Greetings! shouted Mergun kindly as he caught up with the merchant, but he reined in the horse and reached for his bow.

Who are you? he asked coolly.

He eyed Mergun with clear suspicion in his voice. The merchant looked cowardly, but the way he held the bow told Mergun that his counterpart knew how to handle the weapon.

The merchant kept his gaze fixed on Mergun the whole time, not daring to take it away from him for even a single moment.

My name is Mergun of Wolf Island, said the wanderer, but that will probably mean little to you.

Fear shone in the eyes of the merchant, Mergun could see that quite clearly.

Who are you serving?

The question surprised Mergun.

I serve no one. I am a free wanderer, bound or obligated by nothing and no one.

That is what many say. And yet most of them are lying. Many without realizing it.

That may be so. But it doesn't apply to me!

You are a minion of Taykor, aren't you?

No, I'm not.

Then you serve the three-eyed Ahyr.

No!

I don't trust you, Mergun of Wolf Island. At a time like this, you'd better not trust anyone - not even yourself.

I'm telling you, I'm nobody's servant.

The trader's face twitched nervously.

Where is it, this Wolf Island?

Far north.

I've never heard of her.

Mergun stepped forward a little.

Stay where you are! the merchant screeched.

Put the bow down, I'm certainly not going to hurt you!

One cannot be too careful, stranger. Do you know what law prevails in this once civilized land? It is the law of the strongest.

He put his bow aside (but in such a way that it remained accessible at all times) and beckoned Mergun over.

I don't know if your story is true, stranger. But I don't care about that right now. There's a war going on in this country, you know. And you have to be careful there if you want to survive.

There's a war going on? asked Mergun.

He remembered the huge army of Taykor.

The merchant laughed harshly.

If you don't even know that, you must truly come from far away! the merchant then stated.

Who is waging war? And against whom? asked Mergun.

The gods themselves are the ones who fight with each other. And the people are their soldiers. Pawns on a chessboard, nothing more. Taykor is the name of one god - and Ahyr the other. The two hate each other to death, and it seems to me that the war will end with the demise of one of these deities!

The merchant's face had turned somber.

His face was turned toward Mergun, but the merchant's eyes seemed to look through him - to some place that did not exist.

Wouldn't that be a good thing? asked Mergun. Wouldn't it be good if this war resulted in the end of a god? At least then there would be one god less in this world so badly afflicted by gods!

Yes, there would be one less god. But then another would be twice as powerful. And that might be even worse.

The merchant's features had clearly relaxed. He said to Mergun, Come, join me on the cart! You can ride with me!

Mergun accepted with thanks and sat down on the trestle with the merchant.

You still haven't told me your name, Mergun noted.

I am Panojus, a traveling merchant. But I do not intend to stay longer than absolutely necessary in this cursed land. In Balan I want to sell my remaining goods and then I will take a ship to Falcon Island - provided there are still ships available. On Falcon Island I can't do as good business as on the mainland (the islanders aren't exactly rich), but on the island I'm at least safe from the gods and their damned war. Oh, those gods! I want to wring their necks!

Now I understand some things, Panojus!

What are you saying?

On my way, I saw Taykor and his soldiers.

The merchant blanched.

Where?

A few days' journey from here, Taykor has pitched his tents. A gigantic army is gathering there. I have long wondered against whom this army is supposed to fight, but now I understand.

Panojus spurred his horse to greater haste.

Time to get the hell out of here! he grumbled somberly.

The animal can't go any faster! stated Mergun matter-of-factly. Besides, there's no need to hurry.

No need to hurry? What do you think Taykor's soldiers will do to us if they catch us!

Have we done anything that violates any laws of either side of this conflict?

These beasts don't even ask for that! They'll push the knife between your ribs right away!

But it all didn't help. The horse just couldn't pull the cart any faster.

With time, Panojus calmed down again somewhat. The panic that had afflicted him for a few moments had left him.

But he observed his surroundings very closely.

Even the slightest stirring of something living could cause him to reach for his bow in a flash and use it. But no one showed up. In addition, the plain, in which they came now, was to be overlooked quite well.

You'd have to fight the gods and topple them all from their cursed mountain! grumbled Panojus. But to make that happen, the mortals would already have to have a god on their side!

Mergun knew better, but he remained silent.

No, this fight is none of my business," it flashed through him. Let the gods finish it themselves and let them all die in the process - but let them leave me in peace!

7

Then, toward evening, they reached Balan. Balan was a splendid, fun-loving coastal town, but on this day fear seemed to rule here. Many houses were barricaded and people were scowling.

Mergun and Panojus stopped at one of the many taverns.

Only a few people sat at the tables, dozing away and gazing into their mostly empty mugs.

If you two don't want any trouble there, get the hell out of this town! the innkeeper said in a less than friendly manner.

What do you mean? asked Panojus, a bit puzzled by this kind of greeting.

As I say! the innkeeper replied brusquely. Don't you know that war sweeps over this land like a demon, taking its inhabitants with it? Ahyr and Taykor are at war, and we humans are suffering because of it. Let the gods go to another land devoid of people and make their wars there, I say. But for their cruel wars they need us humans, of course. Who else should become their soldier? And tomorrow Ahyr will come to this city so that its inhabitants will pay homage to him and pray to him. Many centuries ago, our ancestors once dedicated a great temple to him, because he had helped them against their enemies. And now this bloodsucking fool imagines something about the stupidity of our ancestors and uses us like pawns. Yes, actually, we are much less to him...

Not so loud, Aenaskeus! If anyone hears you talking like that, you'll be out of your head sooner than you think possible! growled one of the carousing men in the tavern warningly. The priests have good ears.

Aenaskeus, the host, nodded silently.

Well, you've heard it now, strangers. If you don't want any trouble, get out of here as fast as you can. He belched unabashedly. By your language and dress, everyone will recognize you as strangers. And Ahyr is especially suspicious of strangers.

Why? inquired Mergun.

He fears them.

Ahyr knows fear? Mergun laughed hoarsely. That doesn't sound very believable. The cruel Ahyr, isn't that what they call him, and tormented by fear?

Aenaskeus shrugged his shoulders.

Don't say later that I didn't warn you, stranger!,

I am not a fearful man! retorted Mergun.

Aenaskeus grimaced.

How good for you!

Now Panojus spoke up.

I have no intention of staying in this city any longer than absolutely necessary anyway!

So much the better! said the landlord.

I want to go to Falcon Island. They say that the war has not yet reached there...

That is true, nodded Aenaskeus. The people of Hawk Island pray to different gods than we do. They have nothing to do with Ahyr and Taykor.

Mergun now turned to the host. Why don't you leave here, too? Balan is not the only town in the world where an inn can be run!

A somber shadow fell across Aenaskeus' face. I can't, he then whispered, barely audible.

Why not?

A spell of Ahyr binds all of us who reside here to this cursed city.

Mergun sensed that the innkeeper no longer wanted to talk to him about these things. And so he then said, I need a place to stay for the night.

Aenaskeus looked at the wanderer like a demon in the flesh.

Didn't you understand, stranger? he roared. You fool! Not a moment more must you remain in this city if you wish to escape disaster! Flee while the wrathful god is still far away.

But Mergun shook his head with a smile.

What could this god called Ahyr do to him?

Mergun had a sword that was hardened in magical fire. No, he really did not need to be afraid!

I'm tired from the rigors of the journey, he explained thus. It would be pointless for me to travel any further tonight.

You're crazy, Wanderer!

Maybe so!

Ahyr will punish you!

He won't hurt me!

As you wish, stranger! But I have warned you! And when Ahyr's axe crushes your skull, remember my words!

8

The next morning Panojus had disappeared. He had left his horse and wagon behind, taking only his bow with him.

Mergun shrugged his shoulders.

He begrudged the merchant for reaching Hawk Island.

Mergun was up late.

Silently, he stood in the taproom of Aenaskeus' tavern and looked out the window. The city had become restless.  Everywhere people were running around excitedly and now and then weapons could be seen.

You're still here, stranger? asked Aenaskeus as he stepped through the door to the back rooms, quite out of breath.

Yes, as you see, Mergun replied with great composure.

Aenaskeus shook his head uncomprehendingly.

"You should have been gone by