‘But there were too many of them and too few of us. We were exposed on every side. We sounded the retreat and the Legions of Keos harried us all the way through Borderlund. Some deserted and fled to Southmarch or Odarnea, thinking they could hide and escape the carnage. Those who did not went west, seeking safety within the dense foliage of the Vosgar. It wasn’t such an evil place back then, if no less hostile to those unfamiliar with its ways. It was there that the Halcyon Knights and the bulk of the Darites and Ilumites gathered their strength and prepared to make their last stand.
‘We thought we were lost, and so did Keos. Instead of bringing his entire army west, he left the bulk of his Bloodlords and golems in Daogort along with the nechraict – the undead who had been compelled to rise and fight again. Of those that crossed the river, half stayed behind to loot and pillage Borderlund and Lochland. So only a fraction of his army actually made it into the Vosgar – maybe two hundred legions and a thousand golems – but they still outnumbered us nearly ten to one.
‘We all would have died – and many of us still did – but on the third day, the Lost Terran clans came to our aid. The Druids dropped from the trees and the Orvanes poured out of the secret caverns beneath the forest – and they brought the Younger Gods with them: Garadair and Cruithear, Dorchnok and Sealgair, even Tàcharan. The flow of battle began to turn, and suddenly it was the Legions of Keos who were outnumbered.
‘During our counter-attack, the High Priest of Odar, Garlock, slew the leader of the Sons of Keos. Their army fell into disarray and Keos himself entered the fray, his magic hammer striking down all before him. He single-handedly drove back the Lost Terran clans, killed Garlock, and reclaimed the ground his army had lost. Even with the Younger Gods aiding us, we were facing defeat.
‘But then something unexpected happened. When Garlock fell, a Halcyon Knight’s squire unthinkingly picked up the Staff of Odar. It had been abandoned in the retreat, when none dared touch it.’
‘Hold on,’ Annev said, shifting in his seat. ‘You’re saying the Halcyon Knights dropped the Staff of Odar, an Artifact of Legend, and they just left it?’ He scoffed. ‘That’s hard to believe.’
The priest held up a finger. ‘The Halcyon Knights didn’t drop the staff. It was entrusted to Odar’s priests, the Dionachs Tobar, and when their leader fell none would take up the staff.’
‘But … aren’t you one of those priests? You and Arnor?’ Sodar nodded. ‘Well, if you were there and saw the staff fall—’
Sodar laughed. ‘Why didn’t I pick it up?’ The priest’s mirth became solemn reflection. ‘I didn’t pick it up, Annev, because I didn’t want to die. The curse of Keos still lay on the staff. Whoever held it had to be worthy or they’d be obliterated.’
Annev chewed his lip. ‘But one of the squires still picked it up?’
‘Breathanas. He wasn’t afraid of the curse, but he was afraid of leaving the staff behind and losing the war. So even though he was just a squire – not even a knight, let alone a priest – Breathanas took up the staff to save it from Keos. He didn’t realise the magnitude of what he’d done until later, but he had become a dalta, one of the few immune to the curse of Keos.’
‘Wait. The Halcyon Knights worshipped Odar and Lumea. So if Breathanas was a Halcyon Knight …’
‘Then he was a heretic with a mixed bloodline, which means the staff should have destroyed him the moment he touched it.’
‘Well … Isn’t that how it works?’
‘Usually.’ Sodar leaned forward, emphasising his point. ‘Like you, we had believed Odar would never favour one whose blood and faith weren’t pure.’ He shrugged. ‘But we were wrong. Breathanas was blessed by Odar and Lumea, and when he called on the power of the staff, it was like nothing we had ever seen. Lightning and ice, as geysers sprang from the earth and stars fell from the sky.’ He shook his head, eyes distant.
‘So,’ Annev prompted, ‘he took the staff and killed Keos?’
Sodar shook his head. ‘When Keos saw Breathanas’s attack, he pulled back. Odar had shattered his hand with that staff, and he didn’t want to go near it. So, instead of engaging Breathanas with his hammer, Keos fought him with his magic – and he should have won. He was an Elder God, and Breathanas was a new dalta … but you wouldn’t have known it watching them fight. It was as if the earth and sky had erupted. Frozen rain blanketed the forest and frosted lightning thundered from the sky. In one moment the air was thick with smoke, then a blast of rain would carry it away. Swarms of beetles pelted us from every side, and the next instant a blanket of hoarfrost scoured us clean, freezing us to the bone in the darkness. But then Tinder, the Ilumite High Priestess, took up Lumea’s golden flute and began to spellsing.
‘Everything changed. The forest became radiant with light. Flames bloomed around us, our skin warmed. Drops of liquid fire rained from the sky, yet nothing burned except Keos. When he heard the flute, he lost his mind with anger, and killed all within reach of his hammer, whether friend or foe, and the more the priestess played, the angrier he became. Something about the music or the flute itself drove him mad. He waded into our forces and cut a path straight for Tinder—
‘—until Breathanas stepped in. Staff and hammer rang, and the ground broke beneath our feet. The high priestess played until her skin began to glow. Her hair burst into flames as the other Ilumites joined her in song – and then the woods themselves erupted in flame.’ Sodar shook his head. ‘We thought it was the end of the world, but it was actually the end of an Age. Their song summoned Rojen, the Great Phoenix, and Lumea’s Last Hope, who came shrieking out of the sky for Keos. Breathanas and the phoenix struck at the same moment and the Elder God’s body was turned to ash and dust.’ Once more Sodar’s eyes grew distant.
‘It’s a terrible thing,’ he said, ‘to see a God die.’ He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When he opened them again they were clear and present but held much sadness.
Annev had listened closely but now he folded his arms. ‘And you were really there?’
‘I promised I would tell you the truth. I was there. That was the day I swore to fight alongside Breathanas and protect his line.’
‘So you’re more than two thousand years old.’
Sodar spluttered and stood up. ‘Perhaps if I’d been an infant at the Battle of Vosgar … but I was already over five hundred then.’
Annev screwed up his face. ‘Then that makes you …?’
Sodar straightened his clothes proudly. ‘On the sixth day of Tenthmonth, I shall be two thousand seven hundred and thirty-six. Close your mouth. You look like a shovel fish.’
Annev snapped his mouth shut and tried not to stare at the old priest – at the very old priest. Sodar had no reason to lie any more, and Annev believed he was being truthful, but it was a hard thing to imagine. Even if it explained many of the small mysteries about Sodar – how the man never aged, how he never got winded, how he could recite the histories as if he’d been there.
Maybe Sodar had been there.