THE LORD OF WHISPERS

Gigorin laid the last of the stones over the sepulcher of his lost friend. 142 in total, as custom dictates. He knelt before the stone tomb and utter a farewell prayer. It was neither the time nor the place for it – he knew it couldn't be done otherwise.

He refused to weep. Tears before a dead soldier’s tomb turn to torrential rain in the underworld, harrowing the dead, or so the old soldiers say. All this was nothing but gibberish, yet Gigorin was determined to offer his childhood friend a burial fit for a warrior.

As he finished praying, he moved away from the makeshift tomb and left the battlefield, where the Strukturites had met with utter destruction.

He would stay away from the public highway, taking, instead the path leading to the villages that lay in the shadow of Black Mountain. By now, all the main streets would be swarming with Bishman soldiers, intoxicated still from the unexpected victory that fate had once again bestowed upon them.

He heard her cries. A distant sob pierced the eerie silence. He found her sitting on the slope of a moss-covered hill. Behind her ash-blonde hair, her imploring eyes the color of cinder. He knew her. She was the spy's assistant. He must have taken refuge there early in the battle. In their worry to hunt down the remnants of their enemy’s army, the Bishmans wasted no time to search the surrounding hills for survivors. To this murderous rush of theirs, she owed her life.

"I'm Cap--…. I am Gigorin Fedan. We met on the Old Woman’s Hill. Do you remember me?"

She looked at him from behind her tear-swollen eyes and nodded slightly. She did.

Gigorin took a small, leather flask from his belt and hand it over to the girl.

"Drink. Trust me. It will do you good."

The girl took it in her trembling hands and waveringly brought it to her lips. The liquid was still cold when it rolled into her mouth and left a bittersweet taste on her lips. But when it reached her stomach, it filled her with warmth as if she were sitting next to a smoldering fire. Her pale face turned red. Now she no longer remembered why she was so scared. She jumped upright and started walking back and forth.

"What did you give me?" she said abruptly.

"The essence of the Blue Lilibet, that necromancers drink when they prophesy. We call it medicine for cowardice."

"Will I see visions?"

"Nope. You didn't drink that much."

The girl did not answer but continued to walk nervously. The intense fervor had taken over her whole body.

"I'm going to leave," he told her, "I urge you to do the same. Soon the Bishmans will hold every passage and, when that time comes, we need to be far on our way. I'll go to Pyrgosia and from there to Theolon. We can travel together, should you like that."

For a moment, it seemed that the effect of the elixir had worn off, as she returned to her previous inert posture. She considered her options, none of which seemed particularly bright. But then the blood returned to her face and she looked at Gigorin with a sure eye.

"My name is Anasya," she said in a trembling voice, "Let's get out of here, Captain."

On the way, they met a shepherd, who, in exchange for some copper coins supplied them with some bread and cheese. When the sun reached the center of the sky and the heat was unbearable, they stopped at a clearing to eat their frugal snack.

"Since your destination is to reach Theolon, why do you want to go through Pyrgosia first?" asked Anasya. "You will waste a lot of time, that way."

"I need to make some coin first. I'm in no hurry to reach the capital."

"You want to hunt elves, don't you? You're just like my brothers. They were in a hurry to… stain their swords with blood. Isn’t that how you call it?" asked Anasya, nibbling a piece of the shepherd's stale bread.

"To soil their blade with blood. It is a form of initiation ceremony for a man of arms. We call it the gentrification of the sword. There are three steps to refining one’s sword as mentioned in the Old Code of the Structurites. It has been a custom for centuries. The first time you spill blood, it must be in self-defense, otherwise, thou shalt meet thy fate, embraced by the clutches of the eternal end, as destiny decrees. You have to give your opponent three times the chance to leave the battle, otherwise, thy final curtain shall descend amidst the bitter clash of blades, in a symphony of destiny where honor and valor are entwined entwines. Finally, after the duel is over you must forgive your opponent, because it was the looming burden, inscribed in destiny's ancient scroll, which converged your paths, thrusting you upon the precipice of fate. If you do all this, you get the right to bring a sword without fear. The first two steps are difficult if you have a wild forest animal opposite you, so everyone goes to Pyrgosia to fight elves or wherever else they can find. On the other hand, forgiving the elf may be challenging if you don’t like them all that much."

"Did you go to Pyrgosia to do this ceremony?"

"I did, yes."

"And, how was it?"

"On our way, we were attacked by a large bear. There were six of us when we left town. Only two came back."

"I'm sorry. Were they your friends?"

"Yes, all of them, and one of them was my brother."

"Do you have any other siblings?"

"I have a sister, she's a little younger than you. But enough about me. Tell me about your own life. How did you end up in the spy's service?"

"It's a simple story. One day, he came to our village, seeking a seasoned companion with knowledge of the trails which go beyond, towards the territories held by the Bishmans. I have known these trails since I was a child – my father was a hunter, you know, and he taught me many secrets of his trade. The spy offered some good – and well-needed – coin for this. He was pleased and asked me to accompany him on other missions. That's all."

"Usually spies like him choose people with at least one of the soul gifts. So tell me, what's yours?"

"I'm a listener! If I concentrate hard enough I can even hear your heartbeat". The girl lowered her face to hide her smile. "They just increased, didn't they?"

Gigorin answered with a laugh.

A moment later they were on their way again. With greater confidence and freedom, now, she walked beside him, glancing at the knight from time to time.. Her eyes soon fell on the precious pouch, crafted from resplendent blue velvet, snugly nestled against the captain's waist. But judging from its outer side alone, she could not make much of it.

As her curiosity grew stronger, she cunningly stretched out her hand, touching the sullen neck of the pouch. A strong pain pierced her arm. Gigorin, with an iron grip, had clutched her limb.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

"Excuse me," she apologized. "It's the velvet... so beautiful, soft, and these designs of golden thread... it must be something very valuable. No, something that a military man, even a captain like you, would have in his possession."

"It's a precious thing," Gigorin replied, freeing her hand, "if you were burning to know what it is, you could just ask me."

"Can you tell me now?"

"Of course! But we will make a deal first. If I open the pouch for you, and you touch the object with your hands, we will not be separated in Pyrgosia. You will come with me to Theolon and help me deliver it to its owner. Do you accept?"

Gigorin’s condescending tone and unexpected offer got her off guard.

"I have to think about it," she replied.

Anasya thought about Gigorin's proposal for the rest of the ride, unable to make up her mind. The price he was asking for was by no means insignificant. Then again, she felt her heart ablaze with curiosity about this secret, precious object, along with a feeling that it was worth it.

At dusk, they came out of the forest. The road ended at the banks of a large lake, filled with the stagnancy of unmoving waters and thick reeds. But as the gaze ventured away from the shallows, the lake deepened abruptly and its waters acquired a deep blue color. In its center, there was a green island.

This lake had no name - a preconception of the local villagers who would like to pretend that when something is anonymous, it can be forgotten more easily. Moving along the bank, it didn't take long for them to find an abandoned boat.

 

"We will cross it," Gigorin told his companion.

The girl looked at him bewildered.

"They tell ominous tales about this lake"

"I couldn’t care less."

"They call it the whispering lake. Foul entities rest here, or so they say. An accursed place. Lost souls come here to end their lives and..."

"Anasya, pay attention to what I'm going to tell you. We cross this lake, and we won’t lose a day. But if we try to avoid going through it, search for a roundabout way that may or may not exist, we will need at least two days before we can get back on the road to Pyrgosia."

"But we will get there for sure", she thought to herself. They agreed to paddle alternately every half-hour until they reached the other side of the lake.

After an hour of paddling, the dreadfulness of the place finally caught up with her. She became uneasy. Agitated. She glanced at Gigorin. He didn't let his feelings come to the surface, but from the look in his eyes, she could tell he was affected too.

 

"I'm scared," she said.

Gigorin pulled out a small knife, his handle carved with care, and gave it to her.

"There was a day, that he who used to hold that knife, saved my life. Now, let it at least drive away your fears."

The knife had a tether threaded on its handle, and Gigorin wore it around Anasya's neck, like an amulet.

"Whose is it?"

"It was... my brother's. Now it belongs to you."

When the time came, he passed the paddle to Anasya and, tired as he was, fell asleep immediately.

He hadn't enjoyed his much-needed sleep when the icy touch of water woke him up. "We're sinking," he thought as he opened his eyes. But the boat was not sinking yet. It had turned dangerously from to the left and was filling with water. Gigorin's gaze searched for Anasya. He saw her sitting opposite him. She had fallen asleep and leaned against the oar. In an instant, Gigorin got a glimpse of a greenish creature lifting its body from the water, creeping onto the boat. Gigorin blinked to clear his gaze. Now, it had its head pressed against Anasya’s cheek, whispering something in her ear. In a flash, the creature disappeared back into the lake, overturning the boat and plunging its occupants into the dark water. Anasya only woke up when she fell into the water. She instinctively came to the surface but couldn't see anything. The boat, above her, had covered the scant moonlight.

"Gigorin! Gigorin!"

"I am here."

"Where are you? Gigorin! I can't see you."

"Focus on my voice. I'm here. Right beside you!"

With a lot of effort, Gigorin managed to turn the boat from its right side. He and Anasya climbed back onto the boat. There they noticed that the wooden hull of the boat had been punctured and the water entering the boat could sink it for good.

"We will stop on the island until we repair the boat," Gigorin told her,. She looked at him strangely, as if she had just learned something that he was unaware of.

They took the boat to the lake’s isle and turned it upside down. Gigorin briefly examined the damage to the boat and then turned to Anasya.

"I can't fix it," he told her, "But I think I'll be able to patch it up well enough so that ittake us all the way to the other side of the lake. I shall find all the I need into the woods. Stay here and guard the boat. If anything happens, yell at me, I won't be far away."

The girl gave him no answer. She shook her head condescendingly and looked at him with a sad look. When he disappeared f inside the dark forest, her face twitched into a sad grimace, and she brought her hand before her mouth as if she was trying to contain a scream from leaving her lips.

She was left alone.

Just like the voice had told her.

The voice was right.

Gigorin was looking for an aging tree in the woods. It didn't take long for him to find one and cut a piece from his peel. His purpose was to collect with it resin from the trunks of the youngest trees, to repair the boat.

Focused on the work he had to do, he didn't even notice the cold that engulfed his heart. The dimmed moonlight and the annoying whispers climbed all the way to his ears.

As time passed he felt weaker and weaker, like his spiritual powers abandoning his soul, leaving him exhausted.

You failed! You failed! Again!

You let them all down.

Stop! Stop!

A green hand grabbed him by the wrist and another wrapped around his neck.

Stop! Stop!

It's all over!

You failed!

Frozen hands clenched his throat, while whispers ordered him to stop fighting.

He grabbed his sword with his left hand and with a sharp movement stabbed it just above his head, where as he reckoned, the chest of the creature was located.

Gigorin fell to the ground with force, as if the hands that were holding him had dissolved in thin air. Before he could get up to his feet, three wretched figures appeared out of nowhere and rushed at him.

Experienced as he was from his army training, was not surprised by the sudden attack. He carried his sword over his head, in an attacking position, and furiously laid it on the first creature that approached him. Surprised, he watched it disappear before his eyes as if it had never been there. The same thing happened with the other two creatures.

He felt the fear growing inside him , engulfing his heart. Before he could think about what he would do next, ten figures were thrown at him. But they weren't real. Now he knew it. A prayer spontaneously came out of his lips while lifting his sword once more.

"In the period of cold,

The Lord remembers my name.

In a time of fire and destruction,

The Lord does not forget me.

In every failure, crime, or sigh,

My Lord does not forsake me.

And if I find myself in danger or ambushed hostile,

He will send me his Envoy

To save me."

 

He left you all alone.

He has run away or he is dead.

The terrifying whisper pierced into Anasya 's ears. The words made her heart freeze.

Then he felt its touch. Its frozen hand on her body. She instinctively turned towards it. She was facing a green, faceless figure standing in front of her.

He will leave you here alone.

Anasya turned away from it and pulled out the knife that Gigorin had given her. Suddenly, a second monster identical to the first appeared to her left.

You will die.

Your friend abandoned you here.

You are helpless.

A dance of whispers was spinning through her mind. It filled her soul with fear and prevented her from thinking clearly.

In panic she looked around, trying to escape. She was horrified to notice that now the creatures had grown in numbers. There was no escape. She was surrounded.

One of the faceless figures suddenly pounced on her, knocking her to the ground. She winced as she felt its cold touch. The feeling of terror subsided as a primal disgust filled her entire being. With a sharp movement, Anasya nailed her dagger to the creature's chest, causing it to scatter into a cloud of ashes.

Anasya looked at the blade. It was simple iron, not silver or some other noble metal, like those supposed to kill otherworldly entities. In the moonlight, Anasya noticed a phrase engraved on the blade.

 

Thou shalt not be afraid of the terror of the night

 

She stood up and looked around. The strange figures continued to surround her. But now they seemed a little more afraid and hesitant to approach her.

 

She tightly squeezed the handle of the knife and smiled. She looked at the monsters opposite her without fear. With a simple blow, she wiped out one more and then another one.

From afar she saw a man approaching. He wore a cape and held a strange wand in his left hand. His white, long, hair complemented his gruesome look.

Anasya turned her gaze to him. It didn't take long for her to understand who he was. She had heard many stories told about the Lord of Whispers.

With no time left to squander, she sprinted towards the woods, .

Gigorin was now fighting with over a hundred wretched creatures. There didn't seem to be any way to make them disappear. Each time he killed one of them, six others appeared in its place.

At first, he was able to repulse them. But now that their number was large, he found himself overwhelmed by their attacks.

They rushed at him from behind. Grabbed him by the throat. They forcefully pulled his hair. They grasped his hands and feet, with their frozen hands. They screamed inside his ears.

Fighting them was impossible, so he started running. Even there, however, he could see them constantly in front of him. They emerged from the foliage, behind the trunks, and over the branches of the trees.

In front of an old tree, two hands wrapped around his waist, dragging him among the foliage into the hollow of the tree. Their touch was warm and this surprised Gigorin.

"Calm down. Now you are no longer alone," the words reached his ears with Anasya's voice. "These creatures don't really exist. They are just whispers. They can't hurt us. They prey on our fear and agony. The real threat is the Lord of Whispers. These whispers come from him. It is he that we must avoid. As long as we are afraid he can track us down. As long as we are afraid we are tied to him."

"What are we going to do now?" he asked.

"We'll wait here. In the morning it will be easier to leave. We just have to be patient."

Her grip upon him grew stronger, unyielding and unbreakable.

"Ignore the whispers. Don't pay attention to them," she told him. Anasya closed her eyes and rest her head over his shoulder.

 

The night passed faster than they expected. In the sunlight, everything was easier. Gigorin quickly picked up the resin he needed and together with Anasya repaired the boat. They left it for a while in the sun until the resin dried well and then they left the island behind them as if it was a bad memory.