Chapter 25: The Vow
"Garn!" Ragnar exclaimed and leapt over the dead body of Sandor to his fellow soldier's aid. Garn collapsed in Ragnar's arms. "No! Don't die!"
With Garn in his right arm, Ragnar shoved Sandor's corpse off the altar and gently eased Garn on, laying him on his back. In the tier's firelight, Ragnar studied the wounds. Blood seemed to be welling up in every part of the soldier's body. A large gash could be seen in the torn cloth of Garn's abdomen and various burns covered his face. He had not noticed it in the shadows but Ragnar gasped when he saw that Garn's left forearm was missing!
"Who did this to you?" Ragnar asked, although he could guess who did. Garn weakly pointed to Sandor's corpse, blood dripping from his soaked fingertips. Ragnar looked at Sandor for long moments, still trying to comprehend the fact that a royal soldier of Burland could betray his fellow soldiers without a hesitant thought.
Shaking his head, he turned back to Garn and gently asked, "I know that you must be in a lot of pain but I must know what happened here. Where's Denuve?"
Garn slowly turned his head to Ragnar. "I know it must look bad," he weakly said, smiling, "but I lost all feeling some time ago." Ragnar smiled sympathetically. Even near death, the soldier could still be in good humor. "What do you need to know?"
"I... don't know," Ragnar muttered. "There's so much that I want to know, but..." He hesitated, turning his head away from the fallen soldier.
"I suppose you want to know just how I joined up with such a treacherous person?" Garn smiled. Ragnar nodded slowly. "Well, let's just saw that he had a very convincing case. When he returned to Izmit, Denuve and I saw him carrying the crippled body of Darnell. He claimed he, Darnell, and Mandrake had met opposition at this tower when they went to investigate. Mandrake was killed and Darnell was severally wounded."
"Sandor did that to Darnell," Ragnar grimly stated.
Garn chuckled, managing to pat his head. "By the Master, we were naive," he muttered, shaking his head. "It seemed so plausible that we agreed to join him to storm the tower."
The soldier turned back to Ragnar and continued. "When we got to the tower, a volley of arrows bombarded our raft. We dove into the lake and swam the rest of the way. The water was frigid but it was better than the alternative."
A frown formed on Garn's face. "When... we landed, we were met with heavy opposition," Garn continued, his words sounding weaker. "We fought through and eventually came to what Sandor thought was where they were holding the children. Turns out it was this room. The monsters couldn't follow for some reason. I think it's because this altar was once dedicated to the Zenithians. Its aura repelled the monsters away from this room. However, we were trapped. Eventually, Sandor suggested he go and negotiate with the monsters."
"Surrender?" Ragnar asked, a wrenching feeling forming in his stomach at the thought of the action.
"No," Garn replied, shaking his head. "Just negotiate. I admit, I had no idea what he was thinking but he sounded convinced he could do it so I let him go." He paused for a moment, his eyes flinching. "Sandor went and, when he returned, he gave us a choice. Join the elves in their plans, or die."
He turned his head, embarrassed to face Ragnar. "Denuve, poor Denuve, wouldn't join." Ragnar noticed tears streaming down his blood-caked face. "I'm to blame," he wept. "I convinced him to come with us. I... I didn't think Sandor could have been capable of such treachery."
Ragnar took Garn's hands and squeezed it, trying to comfort the soldier. "What happened?" he asked gently.
Garn's face started to shudder as the memory painful welled up. "He... he swung that devilish sword and disemboweled poor Denuve!" Ragnar frowned, trying to hold back his shock. Sandor could have been merciless and made it a quick death for Denuve but disemboweling the soldier was vile.
Garn shook his head. "When... when I saw Denuve's body on the ground and Sandor smiling, for a minute, I..." His eyes furrowed, tears dripping onto the altar's dusty surface. "I considered joining him."
"You didn't," Ragnar said, squeezing Garn's head tighter. "That's what matters."
Garn looked back at Ragnar and continued. "I tried to fight Sandor but he was too powerful. These... wounds were the result."
"How is it that you're still alive?" Ragnar asked, feeling a bit funny asking since the soldier was so near death's grasp.
"I ran into the shadows," Garn explained. "Even those devilish flames that came from Sandor's sword couldn't find me." The soldier smiled, taking a bit of pride in being able to elude Sandor. "Once he gave up, Sandor took Denuve's body and headed upstairs, I guess to show at least one of us was dead. I ate the last of my medical herbs but it's just prolonged the inevitable. My wounds were too much for them to cure."
"I have a few," Ragnar said, hoping their healing strength might be enough to save Garn's life. He started to reach for his pack when Garn's hand stopped him.
"Don't bother, Ragnar," he smiled. "I'm nearing my end as it is." He paused, looking at the ceiling. "Besides, you'll need them."
Garn's body suddenly started to spasm and he let out a tortured gasp. Ragnar took the dying soldier's hand again, trying to be as comforting as possible. "Ragnar… Captain… Please listen well..." Garn whispered, his voice starting to falter. "Somewhere in this world, the Ruler of Evil is about to resurrect."
"The Ruler of Evil?" Ragnar exclaimed. He could not be serious! The Ruler of Evil, the dark demon God Esturk, was nothing more than a legend told in the Zenithian Texts. Still, Ragnar had thought elves were legends as well and he had already killed one. Could it be possible the Ruler of Evil also existed?
"Yes," Garn said, his voice deadly serious for a change, "but, according to a Zenithian prophecy, the Hero who shall defeat Him is supposed to be growing up at the same time."
"Hero?" Ragnar had no idea what Garn was talking about. For all he knew, Garn could be having delusions but he decided to trust the dying soldier. Sandor was right about one thing: times were changing. Legendary creatures were starting to appear so maybe legends and prophecies were going to start to come true as well.
"That's right," Garn nodded. "I learned from Sandor that the evil ones here intend to destroy the Hero while he is growing and still weak…"
"So that's why the children have been disappearing," Ragnar muttered. "They don't know where this Hero is so they'll just abduct any children they can find to make sure."
Garn coughed up some blood and gasped, pain suddenly racking through his body. "Garn!" Ragnar cried, grabbing the soldier's body close.
"R.. Ragnar..." he gasped, his eyes wincing in pain. "S... save all the ch... ch... child... ren..." Then Garn's body went limp in Ragnar's arms.
"I promise," Ragnar whispered into Garn's ear as he closed the soldier's eyes. "By Zenithia, I promise..."