CANTO III: THE TREACHERY OF ORKON
Argument: The vision shifts to the Plain of Denthfeld. There, Dega and Vaneral have assembled their forces, but a bewildering mist surrounds them. Vishnarr assembles his generals and declares the order of battle for the coming day: Anghol with his Slave-host is to hold the center, while Orkon moves to flank and ambush the rebels using the cover of a second mist which Vishnarr will conjure. Dekis, a fallen Star, tells Vishnarr that he has heard rumor of a force of rebels from Orkon's realm: Sencan is marching forth, and that Orkon is no longer lord of all the Sea of Ambori. Orkon downplays the severity of Sencan's revolt and fledgling kingdom, but Dekis nevertheless manages to convince Vishnarr to let him march to meet Sencan and ambush him when he lands. Vishnarr declares that if Dekis is right, he will be given Orkon's kingdom in the North for his own. If he is wrong, Orkon himself will be allowed to take whatever vengeance on Dekis he deems fitting. Orkon is angry, but dissembles his wrath and goes to speak with Anghol alone. He tells Anghol that Vishnarr has long desired the great treasure and slave-hordes of the eastern Wyrms for himself, and that he intends to weaken Anghol by allowing the brunt of the assault to fall upon him. Orkon further intimates that he has himself been told not to spring the ambush on the rebels until it is already too late to save Anghol's forces. Anghol is angry, but fears to move against Vishnarr while the latter holds the Scepter of the Moon, since it allows him the command of the fates of terrestrial things. Orkon conspires with Anghol to steal the Scepter by magic during the battle.
Now Heaven's vision speeds me swift away
From where the mighty kings set forth in war
To where, arrayed for battle on the plain,
The host of Vishnarr gathers like a swarm.
For there the will of that dishonored Star
Was thwarted by the discord of his house;
And so it came that Vishnarr lost the war
And fled to misty islands in the South.
"Evil will shall often evil mar,"
So the sage in ancient times declared.
His armies Vishnarr mustered for the war
And on the plain before his seat prepared.
There Denthfeld's meads, once green and blooming fair,
Now choked with weeds which crawled beneath the haze
Of poisoned fogs which tainted all the air
And chilled the hearts of men upon the plain.
My vision could not pierce that poisoned shroud
If heaven's goodness had not deigned to guide
My halting pen--but not the darkest cloud
Or even roofed earth's endless night
Can forever hide from silver light
As ancient poets truly tell in song:
Thus starlight pierced the roof of stony night
Which captive held the Sons of Nanalon.
So my eyes with more than mortal sight
To gaze are giv'n into the mirky past
Where the Rebel Star in dead of night
Saluted his lieutenants in the camp.
"Now you, Orkon, and you who power grasped,
When first the lower lands with me beheld
And risked the scourge of Heaven's unjust wrath
To leave the heights of heaven here to dwell,
"Do not fear these seven-thousand spears
Which ride in limping warbands from the North,
Nor fear this so-called king whose span of years
Is equal to the liege-men he calls forth.
We could but send a tithe of our force
To crush the rebels now, before the day
Should rise again--first scatter Dega's horse,
Then Vaneral will flee our dread array.
"No need to call upon the secret arts--
Our spells of terror woven into words--
For fear already freezes cold the hearts
Of those who camp in darkness on the moor.
High above, the deadly cries of birds
Pierce the mist and chill the blood of men
Who whisper of the Vulture's deadly work--
Who know what feast the raven's beak intends.
"But now a poisoned fog and mist anew
I mean to draw from where the waters black
From the spring defiled thickly spew
And run in tortured rivers through the slag.
Then when at morn the enemy attacks,
The shrouding mists will screen all Orkon's host.
Then let the might Wyrm, Anghol the Black,
In the main his slaves in arms dispose.
"This whelp, this so-called heir of ancient kings
Will spend his strength against the Eastern slaves,
And Dega's horse will then in terror flee
When once they wind the worm upon the plane.
Then Orkon, let your arrows fall like rain,
And let the hornéd fiends which serve your house
Like reapers fall with singing sickle-blades
Upon the upstart rebeles of the South."
Dekis, who involved him in the fall
Of Vishnarr in the time before the days
Which men in ancient songs can now recall,
Stood, and leave to speak from Vishnarr craved.
"I do not greatly fear these rebel slaves
Who listen to the songs of country folk,
Who fabricate a lie of greener days
When none were made to bow to Vishnarr's yoke.
"Vishnarr is the lord of all the earth.
A thousand years of rule declare the right--
If any should presume to doubt his worth--
Of what was won so long ago by might.
But what of Orkon's lands which Northward lie?
And what are all these tales we hear of slaves
Which overthrew his pow'r and arcane might
And passed through all his sorc'rous realms unscathed?
"A mighty host 'tis said their king commands,
And he a mighty lord of grammerie.
His fortress on a sacred hilltop stands
From whence he casts defiance in our teeth.
'Tis rumored he has crossed the Northern Sea
With spears that like an autumn forest move
To succor Dega's charge with battle-weeds.
Let Orkon tell if what I say is true."
"Let Orkon tell?" Orkon darkly hissed,
"But Dekis has already told the whole.
He has no facet of my failure missed--
No baseless rumor has he left untold.
'Tis true, there be some slaves who shirked the load
Which justly I, as lord, upon them laid.
And one among them basely born, but bold,
In secret forged a store of iron* blades.
* B MS "deadly blades"
"An iron-monger's son, I think, was he,
And now he leads a band of desp'rate men
Who live upon the borders of the Sea
And play at kingdoms in the wooded glens.
Alas, no king is free from discontent,
For some will always shirk the rule of might.
Were not it so, Dekis would not attend
This counsel under shrouding cloak of night."
But Dekis hissed alike with serpent tongue
And dressed his plaintiff case unto his lord:
"O Vishnarr! from your rolls my name expunge
And count me as no trusted friend of yours
If what I say with truth does not accord.
But if indeed a mighty host of spears
From lands which Orkon held has sallied forth
Should it fall upon us unawares?"
"And what would Dekis do if such were near?"
This the Lord of Horror's Hosts inquired.
"I would march with some ten-thousand spears
And catch this base-born hammerer of iron
And drive him back with sword, and fear, and fire,
Into the Sea, and let him perish there."
"And what reward would Dekis then desire?"
"The rule of the Inland Waters fair."
Then Vishnarr granted Dekis what he asked,
And gave him leave to take a host of men.
"If you should fail in this your chosen task,
Or needlessly our army's reach extend
To an empty shore, then Orkon may avenge
Himself upon your house and realm, but else,
If you this rebel blacksmith should prevent,
Then you may claim his realm unto yourself.
"And I, to speed you on your way,
Will raise aloft the Scepter of the Moon
And will that thunderclouds in dread array
Should rake the Southern Shore with great typhoons.
Then, should this rebel come too soon,
He will not find a sheltered harbor there,
But, scattered on the shore, will meet his doom
When Dekis comes with twenty-thousand spears."
Then Orkon boiled hot with rage within,
But made abate the fire in his breast
And bowed assent unto the will of him
Who ruled o'er those whom Heaven dispossessed.
But Orkon brooded long on that request
And silent, pondered how his foe to thwart--
How he might cause to fail his rival's quest
And thereby keep his kingdom in the North.
So when the lords had gone to wait for morn,
Then Orkon stole unto the Dragon's Hill
Where Anghol coiled, loathsome, on the tor
And ordered all unto his master's will.
"Anghol, whose great cunning, craft, and skill
Has bent all eastern lands beneath your gaze--
Who swallow mighty streams to drink your fill,
And rule untold myriads of slaves:"
(All this Orkon said, and pleased the worm
Who was the spawn of Margloth, Wyrm of Gold)
"Consider now the battle on the morn,
And how the force of Ekkis riders bold
And Veneral, in might as kings of old,
Will fall upon and slay your willing slaves,
And strew the severed limbs upon the mould
Of those who worshiped Anghol's dreadful gaze.
"For this I say, though I it swore to keep,
Lest Vishnarr, highest lord, should be enraged--
Yet--I will tell, for worms are all discrete,
And I would see you triumph come the day.
Our lord, know thou, has bid my army stay
Our hands from ambush in the circling mists
Until your slaves are beaten in the fray--
And then commands us be not over-swift.
"By this does Vishnarr think to render weak
The pow'r of Anghol, fiercest lord of drakes,
For long has Vishnarr feared the mighty East
Where mountains fence the realm of fiery lakes.
For Vishnarr fears the legions of your slaves
Who worship only great Anghol the Black.
Those daunted by the terror of your gaze
Will never reck of distant Vishnarr's wrath."
"How should we then our policy devise,"
The serpent said, and couched with honeyed guile
The rage that, rising in his armored sides,
Up-welled and filled his jaws with foaming bile.
"Doubt I not that Vishnarr well desires
The wealth of gold which long ago he gave
Unto the eastern worms in shining piles,
And envies them their mighty hordes of slaves.
"But how should vassals seek to undermine
The pow'r of him who holds the Hunter's Rod--
The Scepter, stolen in the deeps of time,
From him who hunts the shining Ram of Dawn?
Mighty Stars and kings before that Rod
Have bowed their heads, and to him homage made,
For while he wields it, Vishnarr's nod
Is certain as the very loom of Fate."
"You speak true, and yet it seems your thought,
Intending to despair of certain course,
Has struck a mark--as when an arrow shot
At chance may strike a monarch from his horse.
None against our lord prevail with force,
For Fate against them from the first decrees;
And of that pow'r the Scepter is the source
Which bends all living things onto their knees.
"I have many secret arts pursued
For ages 'mid the ruin of Feihoth's race,
Where Lanenomen long ago in runes
Marked the stones, and words of power traced.
I have set an anvil in that place
(Where long ago the Treian smiths did forge)
And there with spells the living steel have lathed
And set with gems from Heaven's shattered porch.*
* Amber
"A ring I forged to give me means to change
My shape unto some other form which shall
(For Vishnarr does not guess that we, estranged,
Would dare to match our wits against his will)
Down into his deepest vault then steal
And take the peerless Scepter of the Moon.
Then thou and I should rule our kingdoms still--
Or, if we will, all Vishnarr's realm consume."
"Evil will shall often evil mar,"
So the sage in ancient times has said.
Orkon schemed the downfall of the war
While Dekis to the Northern coastland sped.
But on the field a foul miasma spread
Which rose from bitter springs that Vishnarr marred,
And men cried out, or wept upon their beds,
For fear of shapes that moved within the dark.
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