The Tale of Heorogar

They led him into a tavern that appeared to have lost its name, and when Heorogar asked why, the old man told him that since "no 'un hahdly speaks no 'un remembels." Even though their eyes-all of them-were sunk deep into their sockets, and their bodies were starved of food, the smiling people seemed excited to see him, and Heorogar did not blame them. The old man, who called himself Cryda, led him inside, where they sat at a table by a cold fireplace. Heorogar found a bookshelf packed with documents and tomes, and he immediately set about reading them as Cryda watched anxiously.

"No 'un remembels," repeated Cryda, "noh' even how ta leed."

"Gadden should be right here," said Heorogar, pointing to a spot on the map, near its edge and on the Mar Atlantic, "it's a huge city. What did you say the name of this place was?"

"Hyldethrith, oldest city o' the Nothe."

"Hyldethrith," murmured Heorogar, "Hyldethrith…I know I've heard of it."

Heorogar flipped through the thick pages, past the large and ornate text, arriving at a place he seemed to be satisfied with. After some staring at it, his face grew to one of grim disbelief. "No, no, that can't be."

"Wuh?" asked Cryda.

"Gadden," he read, "small, coastal fishing community. Population five hundred."

"Aye know noh' the meanings o' those wolds…"

"Gadden was the jewel of its age…it could not have declined. It would have garnered more mention, surely…" he scratched his chin, "We conquered most of what's on this map, I was there, I know it, I did it! And yet…this encyclopedia says nothing of it!"

With that, he pawed through more books and more papers, sighing and banging the table after the books told him the same conclusion over and over again. If mentioned at all, Gadden had been no more than a small fishing village, with nothing remarkable about it to set itself apart from the thousands of other villages that dotted the European coastline. But Heorogar knew it was something far greater. He had lived there his whole life, under the shadow of its stone pantheons and citadels, beside the clopping hooves of the King's cavalry, a cavalry that was to become his own. He had fallen in love with a beautiful princess from the east-but it now was all gone. Heorogar at last gave up and slumped in his chair. His eyes slumped with his body.

"Evelything on this heel map es ash an' dust," said Cryda, "we knoow it."

"How do you know it, old man?" he asked, "have you been across these lands, and seen the desolation yourself? Have you?"

Cryda nodded. "Aye have. Aye was with the almy that was suppoosed ta' fight them back. We had many thoosands at oul' flanks, many men an' swolds an' shields an' almols yondel-all blought togethel ta' defend these heel lands that we have held flom the thlats flom below. They came out o' a volcano, gleat demons, some with wings, each belching flame, they shledded me' flends an' the many that aye did not knoow too! Aye fled the battle, the sky climson at me' back a' night, the flames risin' ovel the holizon. Aye came back to me' home, an' days latel the demons alayved, theil foul ranks somehoow missed Hyldethlith, an' the lands alound us wel bulned en a holocaust aye shall nevel folget. Aye wandeled the fiely lands, then, looked fel anee sulvivols, looked fel many yeals, but found none. Thel al' none. Flom heel ta' the edge o' China ta' the tip of Aflica to the Mar Atlantic thel es oonly ash an' dust."

"I-I won't believe it," said Heorogar, "…impossible…"

Cryda's icy eyes pierced Heorogar's. "En time, you will daye, as will daye, en this blasted hearth. You'll kill youlself o' you'll lack the strength ta' do so, it mattels naught. Wha's mol: it'll happen soon." Cryda began to laugh.