Chapter 30: Whose Right it is to Rule

On the day when Telliam lay hovering between life and death, Jaomin lay upon the slopes of the Shad mountains, sleeping in utter exhaustion. For the first time in unnumbered years the sun shone brightly in this blighted land. A new day had finally dawned, but the hero who had ushered it in slept through its birth.

As Jaomin rested, Sky waited patiently by his side. No evil thing would trouble his sleeping master; Sky would see to it. Sky had been freed with the death of the Demiurge, for Nihilos' destruction had dissolved all of his works. The vulgraths and the nygraths were no more. The desigarg would never again trouble the men of Grenwilde.

In the late afternoon, the boy finally awoke. It took him a full minute to realize where he was. It would take longer to grasp what he had done. Perhaps he would never fully understand what he had done in the lair of the Dark One.

After eating a light meal that he had extracted from Sky's saddle pouch, Jaomin stretched his arms and legs. How good it felt to be whole, to have full use of his limbs again! He was ready to leave, but there was one job that needed to be done first. Reluctantly he walked back into the lair of the Man from the East.

Jaomin did not stay long. During the battle, Logos had shown the young warrior that a link existed between the crystal in the wall and the Dark One, and the boy did not think it wise to leave that rock sitting were someone else might find it and learn its secrets. The sword was quite equal to the task of prying the Mother Crystal from the place where it had been imbedded.

The rock was surprisingly light. Within twenty minutes of his waking, the White Rider was flying west with the Mother Crystal tucked securely beneath his arm.

~ ~ ~

As the day ebbed out, so did the life of Telliam Bindaved, like water spilled upon the ground. His friends and brothers mourned him. They felt his loss very greatly.

Upon the darkening hills, beneath the evening sky, Taril Tal Lojan stood before the armies of Grenwilde and Virikria. He opened his mouth in wisdom, and spoke to them in high verse:

"Hear me you men of Grenwilde.

You soldiers of Virikria, give ear;

Today you mourn the passing

of a hero and a prince.

Telliam Bindaved was a man of courage.

His heart did not give way to danger,

and in the face of difficulty,

he rose to offer battle.

Did he not stand upon the wall,

beneath the fire of the dreaded vulgraths?

His valour was known to all.

Did he not lead forth his men,

beneath the banner of his country?

His skill in battle was your song.

Did he not lay down his life,

as lightly as a man, might doff his coat?

His courage was your hope.

Telliam Bindaved was a man of honour.

He did not hide his face from duty;

in small things as in great;

he was found always faithful.

What person feeling hunger,

could not come to him for bread?

His generosity was known to all.

What soldier feeling weak,

could not look to him for courage?

His example was your strength.

What brother needing council,

could not come to him for wisdom?

His humility was his crown.

Yet, the men of Grenwilde, knew him not,

And the soldiers of Virikria did not see him.

For though he served,

beneath the sceptre of the king.

Within his veins their flowed,

the Blood Most Royal -

As every beat of his great heart will testify.

I sing now of ancient days,

when your fathers went astray.

In the east a man of evil rose,

and the nations wandered in his shadow.

Virikria fled, Tylar lost hope,

Osi Chi took refuge and Grenwilde crumbled.

Then did a man of evil come,

To take the crown of Grenwilde,

from her rightful prince:

In days when men broke faith,

and pride swelled in the hearts of men.

With the sword he slew,

With the torch he burned,

With the pen did he write lies.

He taught men to remember falsehood.

He taught men to call him Magnificent.

He taught men to build a Wall.

So did they turn their backs upon their brothers.

So did they hide their eyes from their own flesh.

But Marichael Bindaved,

infant Prince of the True Blood,

Beneath the shade of night,

was stol'n away.

In secret nurtured,

by his father's faithful friend.

Who dying when the child,

was still in infancy.

Left him to the care of those

who knew not who he was.

So was the breed of true regents lost,

So was the line of true kingship broken,

until today.

He comes! in the High North,

The king will mount his throne.

He comes! the One whose right it is to rule,

He comes into his own.

In the name of the High King,

In the name of Chion of Grenwilde,

I charge you to yield to the king!

With these words, Taril drew Verity from his sheath, the blade of Jaffar Redeemer, his friend and fellow knight, and held it high in the air.

Before another man could speak, Crist Anakara, Prince of Virikria came and stood beside the knight.

"Men of Virikria, know that I have laid Virikria at the feet of this child who is king. The Great Wall is no more, and the division between Virikria and her brothers is no more."

There was a moment of complete silence, then like a storm breaking in the skies, the men of Virikria and Grenwilde raised a shout.

~ ~ ~

In the King's Chalice, beneath the shadow of Kirarka Narth, the light portal appeared. Jessef, Nalitha and Regine stepped out of the heart of light and into the heart of the valley.

"It's so very beautiful," said the mother of the True King breathlessly. She was cradling young Chion in her arms. He, oblivious to beauty but aware of peace, was sleeping soundly.

"It is, isn't it?" Nalitha agreed. "Their names are Mala Nal, Kirarka Narth and Yaga Szu"

"Kirarka, that's 'truth' in the ancient tongue, isn't it?" Regine asked. Nalitha smiled at her. There was no jealousy in Regine's heart when she acknowledged the other woman's beauty, but the fact that she seemed so young - that was something else! It's going to take some doing, Regine mused, to think of her as my mother-in-law.

"You're right, Regine. 'Truth of the North' but it was usually referred to as 'Kirarka Troom' meaning literally 'Truth Mountain'. Do you know what 'Mala Nal' means?"

Regine thought for a moment. "Well, 'Nal' is 'south', but what's 'Mala'?"

"Peace," Nalitha said, "and 'Yaga Szu' is 'Judgement of the East'."

Jessef did a full inspection before commenting. Strange, he thought, I feel almost like I've seen this place before. It was much later that he realized that he had seen Nalitha by this very lake, in his night vision. As he looked at the peaks of Mala Nal, Kirarka Narth and Yaga Szu his breath was quite taken away. Yet what particularly interested him, were the writings, half visible upon the sides of the northern mountain.

"Nalitha," Jessef exclaimed, recognition breaking across his mind, "those are the Runes!"

"They are," Nalitha acknowledged, "the whole Book of Beginnings and the Wisdom of the King are etched in its surface."

Jessef shook his head. It must have been a massive undertaking! What a pity, what a tragedy, that bushes had been allowed to grow in the cracks and fissures of the letters. "Who did it?" he asked wonderingly.

Nalitha smiled. "You'll see," she said mysteriously.

"Nalitha revels in mystery, Regine," Jessef said ruefully. "You'll get used to it." As he said these words he was suddenly struck by how light his tone was. Creator, forgive me, he silently prayed. She was with him. Nothing else seemed to matter much. Let her have her mysteries, bless her, he thought. Her presence simply washed over him. This was to happen to Jessef many times for many days. Whenever it did he walked over to her and hugged her. She never reproached him, but responded in kind.

When they finished embracing, Nalitha spoke, "Now, excuse me a minute, you two, for I have some friends in this valley who will want to know about my return."

"Friends?" Regine asked.

"Yes, let me call them," saying this, Nalitha tilted her head towards the slope of Mala Nal. Her voice rose in the beautiful mountain aria of the Great Northern Arlor. A moment later, answers broke out from all around the cup of the valley. Within half a minute two enormous arlor were making their way down to the King's Chalice and their beloved friend.

~ ~ ~

In West Ganariel, a small boy walked down the street whistling. Old ladies chattered happily in the market. Men called out greetings to one another. Why, even Caylene's uncle was kind that day to his wife! There was joy, right here in this town where Jaomin had sensed such oppressive darkness; a bond had been broken. The shadow of the Dark One was no more. And although the inhabitants of this city, and of every other city, town and farm in Grenwilde, did not yet know the evil from the east was gone, they felt its absence. A shadow, which had lain across their land, was gone.

In Tylar men lifted their eyes. People who had lived without hope felt an unaccountable lightening of spirit. Like a man freed from a gnawing cancer, like children freed from school, like birds flying free from a cage, the spirits of the people ranged joyful and happy beneath the skies of the land.

The Queen of Tylar sat down that day, with pen in hand, to write a letter of accord to her brother King Akinwrath. And though, of course, that worthy monarch was no more - agreement was indeed destined to spread across all the lands.

But it was in what had become the Lands of Desolation that the change was most keenly felt. For first, there was rain: the blessing of the heavens. In a remarkably short time the ground answered the heavens; plants grew. Within a handful of months, animals again roamed the lands of the east. It has even been reported, that the Lesser Southern Arlor multiplied in the Shad Mountains and - if the report is to be taken as factual - they actually began to sing, just like their northern brethren.

And what of the desigarg? They were translated into human form by the destruction of their Dark Master. This did not bring all of them joy. Many of them hated the change. They had hated humans for so long, that they now hated themselves. For evil can become horribly comfortable with itself. Some even chose death rather than to live their lives imprisoned in bodies that they despised.

It was quite curious. Those gargs that had been the least human, most welcomed the change. But the ones that had been almost human and contained very little animal seed were the ones most intolerant of the miracle.

Nagara Diserac had very little animal in him. Here is the story of his last day:

As soon as he thought he safely could, Nagara Diserac had circled back into West Grenwilde. He did this because he had to. The blood that burned his brain demanded that the Princes of Grenwilde die.

He was alone now, for all of those desigarg who had not retreated with Gamarad had either been scattered or destroyed.

The giant made his way back to the Western Hills, being all the time on the lookout for the White Rider. On the day that Telliam lay dying, his former combatant - Captain Diserac, was making his cautious way through a thin belt of trees that ran in an nearly continuous line between the East and Western Hills.

But as he walked he was conscious of a change coming upon him. What was happening to his skin and his arms? Smooth they were becoming and pink. Was he sick? Was he dying? His head felt strange and his body weak. He did not know what was happening to himself.

At length he came to a small pool in the woods. And at the edge of that pool, Nagara Diserac decided his own fate.

He looked down into the waters. Gazing back at him was the image of a man. As he stared at his likeness an awareness stole across his soul. It has been earlier remarked that Nagara Diserac did not believe in the conscience. It had been the gift of his animal union to be devoid of that troubling capacity. He had never been aware of his actions as evil. Now, like a light shining in a dark place, knowledge with knowledge came.

He saw well and knew himself as evil.

In that moment he chose. There is no such thing, he vowed. Firmly and finally he pushed the offer of life away from himself, at the same moment turning from his reflection in the pool. He hated what he had become. He would not be that. He was Nagara Diserac, Captain of the Horde.

He lay on the ground wondering. What had happened? Then he knew. In a flash of insight he saw. The young Prince of the Blood, he must have triumphed over the Dark Lord! It didn't seem possible, but what else could have brought about this loathsome transformation?

He had not noticed, but in the moments of his choice the blood had ceased to burn him. Now it came back upon him with redoubled force: the Dark One's last fingerprint on the world.

That night, within the shadow of the forest, Diserac had listened to Taril's address to the men of Virikria and Grenwilde. He recognized the knight of Loridan as the man who had been trapped in crystal by Gamarad. Among those listening, he could see and recognize a small knot of men: the princes! He knew them by sight and felt them in the burning of his mind.

When the knight had finished speaking and the cries of the men of Grenwilde had died down, there came what, to Diserac, seemed a horrible sound. The song of the Dove of Loridan. It was followed by a blinding flash of light, and then by a sustained shining. Diserac strained his eyes to watch and could see that a circle of light had appeared in the midst of the men. It hung in the air above a small stream that wound its way through their encampment.

It was very frustrating for Diserac because he could not see what was going on very clearly; he was far off in the darkness. But after a time he realized that the men where walking into the circle of light. As far as he could make out, though he couldn't be sure, they were just disappearing.

After awhile he became certain that their numbers were lessening, for the hills were becoming quieter and quieter. He judged that there couldn't be more than a dozen people left on the hill. The two armies were simply gone. Still the portal through which they had walked hung in the air, and then the knight was conferring with a small group of men. Although, he could only imperfectly see their outlines, the burning told him that some - at least - of these men were among those he must kill.

He felt the haft of the battle-axe in his belt.

You will feed on their flesh tonight, Diserac silently vowed to his blade, if they are foolish enough to stay in these woods. Very quietly he crept closer to the remaining men. The hills seemed nearly empty.

"She insists, Taril. She refuses to come."

Diserac was now close enough to hear the men talking but could not make out their faces. It was quite dark.

"I must leave, Son of Jessef Bindaved. My king commands me. Once I pass through the portal it will fade. If you do not come with me you will fail to be at the coronation of your son, the king."

Diserac heard a man sigh in exasperation, "Caylene, be reasonable. Taril has assured us that Jaomin is fine. What will you accomplish by staying here?"

"I'll be here, Yason, when he comes back. How is Jaomin supposed to know where you're going? He'll come back and find everyone gone and the camps totally deserted. What will he think? Won't he suppose that everyone's been killed?"

There was a moment of silence, "Alright, I'll wait with you. I just wish Maric and the others hadn't been so impatient to go."

"No, I don't want you to wait. I want you to go see Chion made king."

"I can't leave you here in the middle of nowhere all alone!"

"I'll be fine. There aren't any desigarg left around here. Ganarth searched all through the forest only yesterday. Weren't you listening today? They're all gone."

"Son of Jessef, I believe it is right for her to stay. I believe she will come to no harm. If her heart so strongly inclines her to wait for your brother, you would do wrong to compel her to leave."

"Compel me! That's rich. No one can make me do anything I don't want to."

"Don't start getting upset," Yason said.

"I'm not upset! I just don't want people talking about compelling me."

"Look, Caylene, can we at least make a fire so you'll be warm? Jaomin might not be back for days. How can anyone know?"

Diserac couldn _

't hear whether or not the girl responded, but a few minutes later - looking strangely faint beside the circle of bright light - Diserac could make out a fair sized flickering fire, and seated beside it, with her back to a tree, was a young girl with long black hair. Very pretty, for a human, he thought.

"Fear not, Yason Bindaved, we can return through this portal after the coronation, as indeed the armies of Virikria will need to do."

A minute later and both the prince and the knight were gone, so was the portal. Caylene was left alone on the Western Hills, but in the darkness, Nagara Diserac moved stealthily towards her. He wanted to get quite close before he attacked. She would be most useful.

The young girl sat in the circle of the light cast by the dancing fire, but just now she was gazing at the crystal, not the fire. It seemed that something new had happened to this strange crystal. Now it would do nothing at all! It seemed just an ordinary hunk of rock: a silvery-white, opaque and lifeless rock.

Perhaps she was too tired to concentrate on the crystal. She was tired. Laying the crystal beside her, she leaned back against the tree and looked up at the dark mauve coloured sky. That was her favourite colour, that deep purplish black that divided twilight from night. Torsha, smaller of Grenwilde's moons, was remarkably beautiful tonight. It seemed nearly full and very bright. She wondered were the moons crystals too? She would like to hold that in her hands; so round and so bright it was.

She felt like closing her eyes. The ride that had ended only this morning had been very wearying.

Caylene considered the fire for a moment. It was burning merrily away, but the fuel would certainly not last all night. If Jaomin should happen to come back during the night the only way he would know that anyone was in the camp would be by this fire. She didn't have a tinderbox, nor did she have matches. She thought she might be able to carry a lighted branch back to the cluster of tents she and the Bindaved's had been using.

No. It was too much trouble. She yawned. Maybe she should get some wood to ensure that the fire didn't burn right down. Then...

She stopped in mid thought. She heard a scuffling sound in the underbrush, and a crackling sound that she was certain hadn't issued from the fire. She thought she could make out something huge not twelve yards from her and in the bracken. Her heart seemed to have moved into her throat and she felt prickles along the back of her neck.

"Creator," she whispered, "protect me."

Suddenly, she saw a truly beautiful sight: a glowing silvery white horse floating beneath the silvery yellow moon. Sky-rider and Jaomin had returned.

"JAOMIN!" she screamed with all her might. Even as the sound left her lips, Nagara Diserac lunged from the undergrowth and let lose his horrific battle cry.

Like lightning falling from the heavens, the White Rider came. Diserac never laid a hand on the girl, for the third and last time Sky-rider smote the Captain of the Horde, intercepting him in mid air. The giant catapulted into a birch tree at a lethal speed. There, at the perimeter of the firelight, he lay perfectly still.

"You're so stupid! You're just so stupid. I can't believe how stupid you are!" Caylene yelled, quivering with anger.

"Caylene..."

"You're the stupidest person I've ever known. Can't you arrive at a place early, just once? Huh? Can't you? No, not you. You've gotta wait until some huge, ugly thing is trying to kill me. And then you just drop out of the sky, like some brainless gundlebeast!"

"Gundlebeasts don't drop out of the sky."

"Oh, how stupid can you get!"

Jaomin looked carefully at Caylene, she was shaking and screaming. Yet, she wasn't angry, she was scared, just plain scared. He saw quite clearly; she didn't know how to handle being afraid. Anger she could handle and use. Boy could she use anger!

Sky stood twitching his ears, looking at the two humans. Sometimes he understood humans almost perfectly; sometimes they were just too...

"Stupid! Aren't you going to say something?" She demanded.

"I will if you..."

"Oh, shut your stupid mouth! You're so stupid!"

Jaomin, looked at her. He sat down by the fire, and just stared, not saying a word. There was no point.

Like a geyser, running out of pressure she started to sputter and spit rather than erupt. Finally, she sat down too, across the fire from him and by the tree. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm. "Oh, Jaomin," she said in a small quivering voice, "I'm so scared."

"I know," he said quietly; his heart was anything but quiet. What would he have done if he hadn't made it in time? If she had been killed?

For a second he could see the anger rising in her eyes, "How can you know? What do you know?"

"I was scared too, Caylene," he said gently. "I was scared you'd be killed. Scared because I love you."

She didn't say anything for a moment but just stared at him, with a strange expression on her face. It was in a very different voice that she said, "You do?"

Jaomin nodded his head.

"You sure?"

He raised his brows and nodded his head.

"Are we going to leave tonight or tomorrow?"

"Pardon?" Jaomin said.

She tsked, almost always a warm up for her favourite word. But she stopped herself and smiled instead. "Your nephew's going to be made king, you Hero of Grenwilde!"

Jaomin stared, "Chion!"

"No, Cheese Head! Whom do you think?"

"Well, when? Where?"

"Tomorrow for when. Where? Well, about that I'm not exactly sure. Taril - I'll tell you about him - he said it's in the King's Chalice, some place way up in the Northern Mountains."

"Oh, great!" Jaomin said. "How are we s'posed to find that?"

"From the air, of course."

Jaomin looked around, and grabbed Sky's head, "Quick, Caylene, get up. If we leave now, we'll be in..."

"Wait a second!" Caylene said, "Get that sword of yours. I've got an idea."

"What do you mean?"

"The sword you have belongs to Taril, or one of his friends. I saw him do something with it that'll be quite handy in shortening our travelling time. Got a dagger?"

Jaomin took Diserac's dagger and drew it along the sword; nothing happened - no sound, no light, nothing. Why, Caylene wondered, didn't it work? And then she recalled how Taril had created the portal above the stream. A minute later, the two young people and the steed of Loridan, stood before the shimmering glory of a world portal, with the most extraordinary white bird hovering above it.

They looked at each other. Even Caylene, who had seen this before, felt awed by it.

"How do we know it'll take us where we want to go?" Caylene asked.

"Didn't you say they just walked through it?"

"Yes, but I don't know if Taril had something to do with making it go to the right place."

Perhaps, it was because he was impatient with their delay, or perhaps it was to encourage the humans, but for whichever reason, the next instant Sky-rider walked through the portal and vanished.

"Well, there goes our only other way of getting anywhere," Jaomin said.

"I think we'd better follow him," Caylene said.

"I think we'll have to follow him," Jaomin countered.

Jaomin turned, but before he could take a step, Caylene grabbed his arm.

"I do too," she said simply.

"You do what, too?" he asked perplexed.

"Oh, do you know what?" Caylene said, "You really are stupid." So saying she kissed him quickly but meaningfully, then turned and walked through the portal.

When he had collected his scattered wits, from wherever scattered wits scatter, Jaomin followed.

~ ~ ~

The night had passed in feasting. The day had risen in glory. The food was taken from the stores of Loridan. The day was a gift from Joy.

Thousands of soldiers and dozens of mountain arlor lined the slopes of the Three Sisters. Just after dawn, at the northern end of the Chalice, a brightness appeared and from its heart stepped the High King of all worlds. No one needed to be told to bow, for this is the One before whom every knee must bend in reverence.

For a full minute silence lay across the valley like a rich robe on the shoulders of a king. Then sounds more gracious than silence, these being the music of angels, filled the King's Chalice. No heart hearing that music could help but sing. They all sang. Rough warriors, who had not marred a song in years, sang. Angels sang. Arlors sang. They sang songs they had never known in words they had never used.

When at last, the silence fell again it was not only a silence of reverence but of realized joy. And then the King of All things spoke. Of the words he spoke, none fell to the ground and all were clearly heard. He stood at the northwest end of the Chalice, while near him stood the family of Jessef Bindaved, the Prince of Virikria and Taril Tal Lojan.

"I am the beginning and the end; so also is this day. Here, evil falls and righteousness rises; here, pride departs and humility sits enthroned; here, princes end and a king begins to reign."

"Come, Yason and Regine Bindaved bring the child. Come, Taril, Knight of My Wounds."

With no small amount of fear and with some great shaking, the two mortals came. With full joy came the Knight of Loridan.

"Yason and Regine, before the awful throne of my Father I charge you to raise this child in the ways of truth, teaching him to walk in humility, love and in gentleness to all men. For the king shall not be a man of blood and war, nor shall his hands have touched an unclean thing."

Although their response could not be heard, no one doubted the substance of their words.

Now Joy required the baby from their hands. He held him tenderly in his arms and blessed him, "Already, Chion Bindaved, you have worked mischief against evil. I grant you all that your eye sees. It is yours to rule. I grant you the blessings of the fields and heavens. I grant you the blessings of wisdom and grace. I grant you a life that will be measured by the lives and deaths of many forests. You, my child, shall reign until I come again. Then, after many, many years, shall we again stand here."

So saying, Joy gave the child to Taril. The knight dipped his hand in the water of the King's Chalice and anointed the child in the name of the king.

"Today, Men and animals of Grenwilde, you have a righteous king!" Taril announced in a loud voice.

Suddenly a cheer went up from all the mountain slopes that only subsided when Taril held up his hand for King Joy to speak.

"Come, Hero of Grenwilde, and bring the stone you won in the lair of the Fallen Star."

Caylene and Maric both had to nudge Jaomin, before he dared to respond. Trembling he came forward with the stone.

Joy spoke quietly, so that only Jaomin could hear. "I honour you, David - my father and my child."

Jaomin blanched, "I don't understand, sir...King. My name is Jaomin."

"There is no mistake, Jaomin. We have watched many sunsets together, you and I. Is it not so? The knife in your heart is mine, child."

Jaomin opened his mouth but had no words to speak.

"Take the crystal that is the writings of my will and hurl it into the living tumult of my purpose. Throw the stone into the heart of the Chalice, child. Make your nephew his throne."

Jaomin stared at the flat crystal in his hands. With a great heave he threw the stone into the centre of the Chalice. Instantly, the water boiled and foamed. Then, before the wondering eyes of all, a great silvery white throne rose out of the rock and water at the north end of the King's Chalice. A gasp of amazement went up from the assembly of creatures and men.

"This throne stands at the end of the world, and at its new beginning," Joy solemnly spoke. "It stands this day because of the tears, prayers, faith and labours of many. Chion Bindaved will this day sit upon the throne, coming into his kingdom at the very age when his distant forbearer fled the usurper king."

The King again faced the people.

"Come, Crist Anakara, faithful Prince of Virikria."

The noble prince came and knelt before the High King.

"Oh, best of men. How lightly you have held what so many tightly grasp! You have been faithful in a small thing, and I now put you over a great. You, Crist Anakara, I charge to govern all Grenwilde in the name of Chion until the age of his majority."

"I will, greatest of Kings."

"And will you pledge to rule in kindness and gentleness to all men. Preferring no man but always choosing truth?"

"I do."

"Rise, child of my heart. Take the babe and sit upon the throne at the end of the world."

Amid tears, cheers and joy, Crist Anakara, the last Prince of Virikria, ascended the throne with tiny Chion, who for his part seemed to be intent on eating a particularly attractive jewel on the prince's robe.

"Long live, King Chion. Love live the King of Grenwilde," the loud cheers rose in the mountain air, and floated up towards the heavens.

~ ~ ~

The valley is empty, save for the arlor. For this is the High Place, and will only be visited by humans four times a year, the times of the Great Feast Celebrations of Grenwilde.

In the cup of the valley, the Knight of the Wounds, Taril Tal Lojan, unsheathes his sword. His task will not take him five minutes; in that short time, the light of Logos will reveal the complete text of the Runes. Their engravings are as sharp and beautiful as on the day when Joy first etched them in the living rock.

For a moment, the knight gazes at the exquisite glory of the King's Chalice. Then he raises Logos high in the air. Despite all odds, the Quest had succeeded, just as he had believed it would. Now listen as the Chalice is filled with the wonderful sound of the sword's song and the song of the Dove. It ravishes the soul; it calls the heart to Loridan!

But what is this? Sky Born refuses to walk through the portal? Ah, Taril understands. Humans can be taught. Sky wants to fly! The knight mounts the horse, the wonderful creature leaps into the air, with arresting speed and majestic grace the horse circles the valley, then plunges into the light portal and is lost to sight.