James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Alarais thought for a long time, but could not see any reason to refuse. “I accept,” he said.

They bound the bargain in blood, and it was witnessed by Ghash’s court under the Old Law.

Wasting no time, and confident of his success, Alarais returned to the Shining Lands full of hope. Many years passed, and Alarais finally found a man he thought more worthy a subject than any he had seen before: a warrior named Jadlis, fiercely loyal and brave. Alarais travelled with Jadlis back to Kyste, coming before Ghash, his spirits high.

“Mighty Ghash,” he said, “I have successfully completed your first task. This man is named Jadlis. His skill is immense. His bravery is unquestionable. His loyalty is fierce and endless. He is a subject most worthy of my kingship.”

Ghash examined Jadlis silently for some time, and Alarais' confidence grew within him. Then Ghash spoke.

“As king,” he said to Alarais, “Would you be willing to die for your people?”

“Of course,” replied Alarais. “As any good king would.”

“Then your subjects should be willing to die for you, also.”

Alarais hesitated. “Yes,” he replied grimly.

Ghash turned to Jadlis. “You would die for your king?”

“I would,” replied Jadlis proudly.

“And if he commanded you to die here and now?”

“Still.” Jadlis was unmoved.

“Why?”

“For the love of my king. My country.”

Ghash shook his head. “No. You would because the readiness to do so brings you glory - respect in the eyes of your friends, your fellow soldiers, even your king. To be unwilling to die would be traitorous, cowardly. You are willing to die, but you do not want to die. It is simply preferable to the shame. You would die because there is not a better choice.”

“That is not true,” said Jadlis stoically.

“But it is!” cried Ghash. “Yet what if I told you there was a better way? A choice, where you earned respect rather than shame for living?”

Jadlis frowned. “If it is better for my king that I die, then there is always shame in living.”

Ghash smiled slyly. “Very well; here is my offer, Jadlis. Your king has been given a task. It matters not if you do not complete this task for him, for he may try again. To fulfil this task, though, he will ask you to sacrifice your own life.”

“Then I will!” cried Jadlis.

Ghash held up his hand. “But what care has the king if he commands you to do this? Should he not love you as a subject, seek to keep you from harm if there is a better way? True - if you obey, then your king will have succeeded, and you will have died with honour.” He paused. “But if you refuse his command, I will give to you these lands. I will make you king in your own right. Your wife will be your queen, your children your heirs. You can make peace with the Shining Lands, which I wish only to destroy. Men will honour you for your life, not your death.” Ghash placed a hand on Jadlis’ shoulder. “You fight to uphold the ideals of your king, and that is a fine lot. But you could be so much more. Do so much more. Your king chose you because of your worthiness, your honour. That is how I know there would be no better man as king of this realm.”

Then Ghash turned to Alarais. “Now, he knows what is at stake. Command him to kill himself.”

Alarais shook his head. “I will not.”

Ghash frowned. “There is no other way to fulfil this task. You are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for your subjects. One worthy of your kingship must be willing to do the same.”

Alarais’ heart was heavy now, but he knew Ghash spoke truly. “Jadlis,” he said quietly. “You are a true and loyal subject. I would ask that you take your life for this cause, for the sake of your king and the Shining Lands.”

Jadlis thought for a long time, then shook his head. “I am sorry, my king, but he is right. I can do more for the Shining Lands by living,” he said to Alarais. Then he turned to Ghash. “I accept your offer.”

At those words he fell dead to the floor.

“The first task is failed,” intoned Ghash. “The most loyal of your subjects refused your command, and so was unworthy of your kingship.”

Alarais left without a word, disappointment and sorrow mixing a bitter taste in his mouth.

A hundred years passed, and eventually the pain of Alarais’ first defeat faded. He met a young man named Diadan, a noble of the Shining Lands who came into his inheritance early through tragic circumstances. With no family, Diadan had come to Alarais for advice on how to manage his affairs.

Alarais was first a mentor to Diadan, then after a few years, a true friend. Despite Alarais’ many years his body had never aged, so he rarely found someone young enough to stay with him on the hunt and in duelling, but intelligent and wise enough to hold his interest in conversation. Yet Diadan excelled in all these areas, and proved himself many times over to be a loyal and trustworthy friend, never seeking to betray Alarais’ trust for his own ends. Alarais presided at Diadan’s wedding, and Diadan became the king’s right hand.

Time passed. After thirty years of unwavering friendship, Alarais decided that Diadan was the man to fulfil the second task. The two men journeyed to Kyste and came before Ghash.

“Mighty Ghash,” said Alarais, “I bring before you a man with whom I have a bond stronger than stone. A man to whom I would entrust my life, and whom I know would do the same to me. A man my equal in honour, in courage. My friend. This is Diadan.”

Ghash considered Diadan silently. “This is the one you would put forward to fulfil your second task?”

“Yes,” replied Alarais.

Ghash turned to Diadan. “Your friendship with Alarais is strong.”

Diadan nodded. “He is my brother in all but blood.”

“And yet,” pointed out Ghash, “ not by blood. He ages not. You do.”

“That is true,” acceded Diadan. “I cannot keep pace with him as once I did. But that is our lot. I no more resent him his eternal youth than he resents me my looks.” He gave Alarais a grin.

“I speak not of resentment,” said Ghash softly. “I speak of something a man, any man, may wish for. The chance to be young again, to be forever in the prime of his life. To attain knowledge and wisdom but never have his body fail. To have the vitality and strength that an aging body can never summon. If I offered you this gift, freely and without condition, would you take it?”

Diadan did not pause. “I would,” he said.

Ghash nodded, then turned to Alarais. “I know your heart, Alarais. Advise him as a friend, and see if he trusts you as a friend.”

Alarais groaned inwardly. Long had Diadan yearned for just this thing, and many times they had talked of what it meant. It was, perhaps, the one thing they had never truly agreed on. “Diadan, my friend,” Alarais said earnestly, “ we have often talked of my long youth. You know the pain it has wrought me. I see those I love wither and die; you would see the same for your wife Siana, your children, your grandchildren. There are some pains and failures I still remember from a thousand years ago, clear as if they were yesterday. I beg of you, though I know your heart and how tempting it must be. Do not accept this gift.”

Diadan heard the words of his friend, yet as before, they made little sense to him. “But Alarais, think of it! We could ride as when I was young. We could adventure together once again. The deaths of those I love would hurt, yet we would still have the chance to spend the entire span of their lives together. That alone is worth the price!”