Athanasios

by Slawomir Rapala

Table of Contents
Part 3 appears
in this issue.

Conclusion

“Me?” the giant shook his head. “I was a young man then, three thousand years ago it was, a Captain of the Cavalry, a known and respected noble and warrior. I fought with my men alongside my King, the last King of Azmattia, Naluu the Great. But when he fell and when his army succumbed to the bloodthirsty waves of the Northern hordes, I no longer had a reason to fight. To die well, perhaps, but as I say, I was a young man, and death was not as inviting as it is now.

“When the last of our flags went down, taken by the dark masses, I turned my horse and fled. I fled to the very edge of the world, with hundreds of barbarians in pursuit. My steed was of the noblest breed and ran swiftly. Together we fled through ravaged countryside, through forests and deserts unending, through mountains and marshes that stretched on forever. The barbarians stayed close, though months had passed.

“I tried to lose them amidst the mountains of the Far South, those that lay far beyond the marshes of the serpent Kingdom of Yitia. The barbarians were cunning, though, and stayed fast on my track. Then the edge of the world appeared, a mist-filled abyss full of thundering waters, for at the edge of the world everything has its end, and all oceans and rivers fall into the Pit.”

“The Underworld?”

“Aye. No man had ever seen it before me, and not one has seen it since.”

“How do you know?”

“The demon who guards it had not seen a human, save me. And he was there from the beginning.”

“What’s his name?”

“He comes from a time when he needed no name and so he has no name. He is as ancient as the world. And it is he, cursed dog, that clutched me when I plunged into the abyss, seeking death.”

“You leapt from the edge of the world?” Aezubah asked and his usually solemn voice betrayed a hint of awe.

“Aye,” Athanasios nodded. “My world crumbled. My time was over as was the time of Azmattia. My steed was fearless and when I urged him, he leapt into the howling waters and into the swarming mists... but, alas, as I said, he clutched me with his greedy hand and pulled me back.”

“The demon?”

“Aye,” the giant confirmed, his voice again sullen. “I should have plunged my sword into his wretched and reeking body, but I was paralyzed with fear. I still see him as he squats there, gripping the earth’s edge with his long talons, I still see him as he sits there today as he sat three thousand years ago. Great horns, a misshapen body of terrible proportions. Those burning red eyes, full of hatred and... curiosity.”

Athanasios grew quiet. The wind caressed their faces and the sun warmed them as they leaned against the boulder in the middle of the clearing, on the slopes of the Treacherous.

“And then?” Aezubah asked.

“He offered me life everlasting,” the giant said. “I thought of vengeance and I took it. Only now I see that he used me for his own purposes.”

“Betrayer,” the demon whispered, furious but powerless.

“How so?” the General questioned.

Athanasios did not respond immediately. He studied Aezubah for a long moment, his hard gaze penetrating down to his very soul. “To understand this,” he commenced finally, “you must first know of the Lords. And of your own role in the shaping of this world.”

“I don’t understand,” Aeuzbah scowled.

“Hear this then,” Athanasios shifted his large frame to rest more comfortably. “At the beginning, as it is written in the Book of Life, four Brothers appeared out of the Well of Time. They came and each was different. The first was Air, and he built the sky to shelter the world, which at that time was nothing but a void. The second was Water, and he sent rain to fill the void. The third was Earth, and he made the world what it is today. The fourth was Fire, and he will consume his brothers’ design. His hate is pure.

“It was decided by the Immortals that the Brothers, the Lords of the Ages, cannot change the course of history, nor alter its time. Only a man may do so, a mortal like others. And in each Age one will be chosen to step over the threshold and carry mankind forth towards its doom. Because at the end of the Fourth Age, the world will be consumed by Fire and all will end.

“And for his role, the man will be forsaken in birth, in life and in death. He will lose all that he loves and will carry the hatred of all mankind within him. So it was written in the Book of Life, as it was heard from the Well of Time, where all things have their beginning and end.

“Air, who was wisest and the kindest, gave birth to life. And life appeared on the world amidst all the creation. Creatures of all types roamed the planet, until such time when the serpents came and claimed the world for themselves.

“For eons they ruled, growing thick with magicks and power. But they were corrupted by greed and when men came, they could not withstand the fury of their fire and the strength of their swords. War raged between the races and mankind was victorious. The serpents were defeated and died.

“Only, some survived in the marshes of Yitia, where they lie hidden and plot a return. Concealed by magicks they continue their way of life, but they are nothing but mere reflections of a once powerful race. Men ruled the world. Azmattia was born, and her way of life brought light to the world. Culture flourished. Men grew rich.

“But Water, who was treacherous, longed for his Age to come. He overthrew his weakening brother, and the Age of Water came. A deluge of barbarians from the North devoured Azmattia. Nothing remained save for darkness, hatred and death. Men fell by their own hand. The world changed.

“Earth, who was the most stable of the Four, brought order to the world. Post-Azmattia was born and cultures flourished in the South, united by a common ancestry. Barbarians retreated to their Ice Fields, where their nations grew as well. Such is the world today.

“But future is written in the Book of Life also, as it was heard from the Well of Time. It is written that eons will pass. The ocean will be bridged by two Kingdoms who desire peace. Mankind will survive, though the world will still be harsh. But the Cycle must be completed. Earth will grow old and will relinquish his Age. Fire, patient and pure, will step in. The world will be destroyed, consumed by the hatred of mankind. War. Death. Chaos. The end of all goodness.

“From the Plateau where they dwell around the Well of Time, the Immortals will watch. Words will be written in the Book of Life. The cover will close and the Cycle will be complete. Fire will consume the world and once more the void will surround the Well.

“What of the Brothers, the Lords of Ages, the Four accursed rejected by the Immortals and burdened with the world? On the Roof they will meet for the final time and pierce their breasts. Their blood will mix with the waters of the Well. Their time will end.”

Long was the silence that followed. Aezubah chewed on a long straw of grass that he picked. His gaze wandered over the surrounding thicket and then ventured upwards towards the sky. Athanasios, in the meantime, watched him from the side.

“What of the demon?” the General asked finally. “How did he come about?”

“When the Brothers created our world, their design called for the most sturdy and noble material. They cast away all that they did not desire and it is from these bits that the Underworld was pieced together. A treacherous demon crept through the Well of Time and used his powers to build a world of dark magicks. He is now King and commands legions of demons and gnomes, devils and ogres, beasts of fire, winged creatures black as night... His army is vast. They sometimes visit our Realms, as you surely know, called forth by wielders of the dark arts and used for selfish and petty motives.

“The King, Nameless as he is, himself he is bound to the edge of our world by the Lords as punishment for his transgression, because their world was meant to be free of such creatures. From where he sits, he may peer into this domain, but cannot enter. Nor can he spread his wings and fly over our Realms. Still, his power is great.”

“And what does any of this have to do with you or me?”

“It is plain. As it is written in the Book of Life, the Cycle must be completed and the world must end, consumed by fire. Along with it, as you can easily predict, the Underworld will perish as well. This the demon-King cannot allow. He crept through the Well of Time to escape the Immortals’ punishment for earlier, more wicked transgressions. To perish here would be death for him. The Underworld, for ages now, struggles to stop the Cycle.”

Aezubah was begginng to understand. “And in each Age one will be chosen to step over the threshhold and carry mankind forth towards its doom,” he repeated Athanasios’ word. “Destroy the man and you stop the Cycle then?”

“Aye,” the giant nodded. “Four threshholds destined to be crossed by four men forsaken in birth, in life and in death. They will lose all that they love and will carry the hatred of all mankind within them.”

“And you’re saying I’m one of them?”

“The third,” Athanasios’ words were hard.

“That’s why the demon sent you to kill me?”

“As he did with the first two.”

“And you failed?”

“As I did now. I cannot fight destiny, and yours is written in the Book of Life. Though the demon may argue that nothing is written in stone.”

“I cannot believe this.”

“That, my friend, is none of my concern,” Athanasios shrugged. “You asked for answers and I gave them to you.”

“You are mad.”

“As mad as one may be after three thousand years of sleep, woken only three times, and each to kill a man.”

“And you failed each time. Why?”

“Why?” the demon echoed the question.

“Because I believe in fate,” Athanasios returned after moment’s silence. “Yours is to carry mankind into the Age of Fire. Mine, since it was not to fall off the edge of the world, I still seek. Along with it, I seek death. The Nameless promised me such prize for your head and I agreed, longing for it. I failed, but it does not matter.

“If you cross the threshhold, you will bring mankind one more step closer to doom. One more man after you, perhaps eons from now, and the world will be consumed by fire. And I along with it. Though I long to know my destiny, I long more for death. It is plain.”

“Yes,” Aezubah remarked.

“Yes,” the Nameless echoed again. His crimson eyes burnt with hatred. “Betrayer!” he roared and his voice sent tremors throughout both worlds. Lesser demons and creatures cowered in fear as they gazed through the mist towards the edge of the upper world, where their King was chained. They saw him spread his great black wings and rise to the sky, roaring with hatred. But the chains that the Brothers placed around his ankles held fast and the Nameless was quickly forced back.

Stretching his great body, each muscle and vein bulging beneath the short fur, he strained his neck and his burning gaze soared over the thundering waters, over hundreds of leagues of mist-covered marshes, thousands of leagues of dim virgin forests, sun-baked deserts and stormy waters of the ocean, it climbed the slopes of snow-capped mountains of the North and it was felt by Athanasios who sat peacefully alongside the ageing General amidst the thicket that covered the lower portions of the slope of the Treacherous. Aezubah, too, felt a tremor.

“He is mad,” the giant said after a moment. “He deemed me a betrayer.”

“What can he do?”

“To you? Nothing, for now. But beware at all times. Beware of dark magics and creatures of the Underworld. They may have bothered you before, but only recently has the Nameless learned your fate. He will hunt you from now on until such time that you cross the threshold.”

“How will I do that?”

“I do not know,” Athanasiso shrugged. “Each man has his own design. Each man has his own fate. Your will be known to you when the time comes.”

“And you? What can he do to you?”

“He won’t kill me,” the giant’s attempt at humour was dry. “Who knows? But I do not fear him. My destiny is not for him to shape. He may have clutched me at the edge of the world, he may have trapped me with empty promises, but he will not dictate my fate. I will not be remembered as the man who aligned himself with the Underworld and stopped the Cycle. Even if I may have my moments of weakness.”

“But...” Aezubah hesitated, weighing his words carefully as if knowing how shallow and ridiculous they sound. “If the Cycle ends in doom, should we not stop it, then?”

“Each man makes his own decisions,” Athanasios replied somberly. “I have made mine. You will make yours when you reach the threshold. Perhaps you will decide then to save mankind. But, my friend, the Cycle cannot be stopped; such is the will of the Lords and the Immortals above them. Another will be born. And you will pass into obscurity, remembered in the Book of Life as the man who made the wrong choice.”

Having said that, Athanasios rose suddenly and stretched his long frame. “I must leave now,” he explained, answering Aezubah’s questioning gaze. “He keeps me on a leash and I feel it being reeled in now. I must return to the summit of the Treacherous where I sleep in a cave hidden from the world.”

“So much is hidden in these mountains,” the General whispered, rising as well. “Will he punish you?”

“I do not know,” Athanasios smiled sadly. “His hatred is great and he may design much that will make my life unpleasant. Or perhaps he will have a use of me still? I do not know. Don’t trouble your mind with my fate, friend. Yours is much more difficult to bear.”

The giant extended his arm and Aezubah grasped it in his. They shook hard, like men, like warriors. Athanasios smiled.

“I bid you farewell, Aezubah of the Third Age of the Lords. And I leave you with a warning: watch your back and keep your friends at a distance. His arms are as long as his ears, and he may reach you when you least expect it. Finally, as a token of my friendship and a symbol of my penance, I leave you with a gift, as meagre as it is.”

The Azmattian handed him his poniard, its hilt bound in gold and inlaid with crimson-red rubies.

“It is more than three thousand years old,” Athanasios smiled. “More than that, though, it is a symbol of what once was and what will never be again: the great Kingdom of Azmattia. However real I may be, I am only a mere shadow of her great warriors.”

They shook hands again and then Athanasios disappeared. Whether the earth had swallowed him whole or he had so silently vanished amidst the thicket, Aezubah did not know. He only heard the rustling of the wind.

The General sat on the great boulder, cast aside in the middle of the clearing, and studied the poniard that the strange Azmattian had left with him. The man himself was gone. A shadow. A dream.

Long he sat there amidst the silence of the solemn summits around him When the sun disappeared, he finally rose and started his descent, his way lighted by the silver face of the moon. Only once did he stop, for he thought he had heard a distant scream. Though he knew the mountains to carry voices over great distances, he thought it came from the summit of the Treacherous. But he did not hear it again.

He continued his swift descent, shaking his head from time to time.

* * *

Athanasios’ screams were stifled by the strong hands of his bestial torturers. His long frame was stretched on a massive stone wheel, the lower portion of which almost touched the frozen floor of the glittering cave. From time to time, one of the winged creatures turned it a notch and the wheel claimed another piece of the Azmattian’s body. Each time a bone snapped and Athanasios opened his mouth to scream, but each time he was silenced by a vicious hand.

Another turn. Another inhuman cry...