The Stranger and the Fount

In the country of Theriat there is a castle which has stood desolate for many years. Since the day of the coming of the Stranger it is home only to ghosts.

No signal preceded his approach before that day, but the mark of his passing was great; this was the manner of his coming. The Stranger’s presence was as a dream: unbid, unseen, and from seemingly nowhere. But really it was a nightmare, for his mere presence had the effect of unleashing hell from among men.

At his appearance the inhabitants and many visitors of the castle were suddenly seized by insane power and blind bloody lust. A terrible slaying took place. Parents murdered their children. Siblings took each-other’s lives. Lovers plunged blades in the hearts of the beloved, and friends put an end to friends. It all was over before the sun had set.

Some few had remained immune to this sudden madness. Of them, those who had the sense to hide during the slaying managed to escape. It is from among them we have the tale of the Stranger, for it seems they alone saw him. It is said that after this heinous work was done, the tattered black cloak was seen sauntering out of the main gate.

The survivors armed themselves from among the discarded blades to be found throughout the castle, and formed a travelling party- though, the horses had all been slain in the stables, and they would be forced to travel afoot. They crossed the field of the dead and fled the castle, whereupon they headed for the woods, meaning take the cover of trees and return unseen to their villages.

They journeyed secretly in the woods for the duration of that day, and when night came, they were forced to establish camp. As they sat about their small fire, the Stranger stood unnoticed in the shadows.

He stepped suddenly into the light and beckoned to them. They looked at each-other, terrified. His beckoning divided the group.

“See, he slays us not,” said some, “we ought to follow, since he has spared us.”

“He is Death itself,” the others reviled them, “and has only spared us for some other design, but shall slay us once he has had his use of us. Follow him and earn your fate!”

But some followed, bound by his mysterious horror, and others stayed behind. And the ones who stayed behind said of those who departed that they were fools.

The Stranger led his band deeper into the woods, making their own ways, except when they would occasionally cross a game trail or a holloway. By night all was impenetrably dark, and they were fearful, for they knew not where their journey may lead.

Soon enough they came upon an unfamiliar road. That was a strange fact, for they had lived in this region all their lives and believed they knew all its main roads. But it was also unlike the roads of Theriat in that it was gleaming white, studded with countless smooth white stones that glistened like pearl, undulled by time. It was as though it were built only yesterday.

The road seemed illuminated with moonlight, though no moon was in the sky.

When they stumbled on this, they also became aware that the Stranger had disappeared, and they never saw him again until they reached the end of that road.

They followed the path of gleaming stones deep into the forest for many days before they reached its end, whereupon the path terminated in a wide ring which enclosed a bright and magnificent marble fountain. Dense, wild forest surrounded them on all sides.

The fountain was structured in three tiered bowls, and a platform at the top bore the carved likeness of a maiden in generous swathes of sheer fabric, pouring out water from an urn with a look of serenity and subtle knowing.

The image transfixed them for a great while, until a few of them began to murmur.

“Then, what now? This is what we have come to see? We must turn back the way we came.”

And a few left the group, believing there was no more for them here, and they departed down the White Road. Despite going together the same way, the road led each of them to their respective destinations.

Silence fell as the portion of the group that remained contemplated the fountain. Nothing was spoken for a long stretch of time, until, in that silence, a word was whispered, “look,” and a hand pointed into the forest.

There were faint lights moving, dancing behind the trees, casting shadows, appearing and disappearing.

The group became enthralled with fascination for the lights, falling into a sort of trance. Despite the protests of the others, some wandered off into the forest. After the last one had disappeared beyond the trees, only two remained standing before the fountain.

One gazed at the water, the other stared in shock at the trees. It was the latter who saw the Stranger approaching them once more.

He came and stood by the one gazing at the water, but when he spoke, he addressed both of them.

“Listen- the water- can you hear it speak? It is calling you.”

The one who gazed at the water took his words and listened, but his friend crossed his arms and scoffed.

The one who listened heard the babbling of the water, and it dawned on him that it had been speaking continually during all the time they had been here. Now as he listened, it seemed he could almost understand what it was saying. An instinct was rising in him. He reached out his hand to touch the water, but his friend restrained him.

“It’s bewitched,” he said to him. But the Stranger touched the hand of the friend.

“Your words bewitch, and you are their sole victim.”

The friend recoiled and collapsed, stricken blind and deaf and lame.

The one who listened reached out again and touched his fingertips to the surface of the water. And suddenly he was gone, taken into the fount.

Within, he floated dreamlike, suspended in endless water with neither surface nor floor. His breathing was apparently undisturbed.

He was surrounded by beautiful dreams, warm fantasies, joyous visions, inspiring revelations. All was lush and full of splendour and magnificence, embracing him as a welcomed friend. It was as if he had returned home after a lifetime away, and he was tempted to believe that he had found Paradise...

Yet, at that thought, doubt flickered somewhere in his mind, disturbing the perfect visions for just a moment. It was long enough that he was able to sufficiently compose his mind to formulate a question.

“Are these illusions? What lies behind them?”

As he asked this it sobered him, suddenly breaking the spell that was on him. Like a gorgeous, colourful sheet, the visions slipped away, and were torn apart, revealing behind them a dark, colourless wall of cold stone, riven and textured with the passing of uncounted aeons.

As he watched, the wall unfolded into a yawning chasm of a cave- a cave at the centre of the world, the deepest home of darkness.

Something was moving in those dark depths. He could feel its movements in his own depths as well- visceral, horrific, loathsome, like the world was slipping out from under him.

A collosal Creature raised its head, but its size was so great that it seemed as another stone wall, only moving. It appeared to him both incredibly close and impossibly far away.

Thereupon the eye rose into view- a midnight sun, blazing with age as old as the world- the all-consuming life of the dead, burning with hunger that appeared like malice.

The terrible Creature spoke one word to him, and its voice was like mountains rising, or planets colliding... it resounded through his being and across the ages, hideous, perilous:

“Bleed.”

He noticed that he was holding a knife in his left hand. It was a sacrificial tool from long ago, with a blade of bone inscribed with lost runes. He regarded it in astonishment.

The Creature, in the pit where are gathered the dead of the world, moved about its feet and stirred up a storm of the dead. The storm rose up in billowing clouds and enveloped him completely.

There were no ways to go here or there any more. Here and there dissolved and were indistinguishable. He attempted to search his past for help, but found none, for past and future were no more.

All his friends were gone.

He sought some basis for this decision, but there was none. He was utterly lacking in knowledge, bereft of certainty, and without distinction. Chaos surrounded him and tumbled through him.

Therefore he sliced his palm and bled into the abyss, and his blood fell upon the face of the Creature in the deep. At this, the Creature stilled his feet, and the dead all returned to their places of rest in the bosom of the earth, and were silent.

There was only emptiness, stillness.

His horror recalled to him the image of the terrible eye, and he reflected on it. It dawned on him that therein was contained a certain... humanity.

He had hardly completed this thought before a vision came over him-

A limitless ocean and empty horizon, totally still, sea and sky reflecting each-other. All in a flash, a brilliant searing light appeared in the horizon which blazed like the sun. Before long this blinding light dulled into flames of every conceivable colour, spreading like wildfire across the horizon, and advancing across the sea and the sky.

A flame of this fire licked him and burned his breast- and suddenly he emerged from the waters of the fount, spluttering like one nearly drowned. He found he still bore burn on his breast.

The Stranger was gone. Before the fountain his friend lay weeping, blind, deaf, and lame, responding to nothing. But he healed him by cupping in his wands waters from the fount and forcing him to drink. Together they followed the White Road out of the chilly grove.