Culumar Challenges Death

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Invictus
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Culumar Challenges Death

Post by Invictus »

There's all this talk about fantasy lately so I thought "Why not? Maybe this time it gets more than two replies."


Culumar Challenges Death

Culumar was the twentieth ruler of the legendary Dawn Kingdom, a great king whose power and splendor was unmatched in the world. In war he was a brilliant general and an invincible warrior. Under him the Dawn Kingdom reached its greatest extent, stretching south to the peninsula that is now the Drowning Bay, east to the tall Kojor Mountains and north to the frozen plains. His majesty was acknowledged far and wide and envoys from half a hundred nations prostrated before his throne and offered him tribute. The lords of the First City sought to make peace with him and their numberless Ranvar legions trembled at the mention of his name. It is said that even the dwellers of the Outer Dark did not dare to raid his people while Culumar ruled. The lesser kings of the surrounding kingdoms looked to him for leadership and ever did Culumar led armies hither and thither, pacifying the ungrateful and rewarding those loyal to him. Culumar had twin swords at his side, the golden blade which was called Kingmaker and the silver blade which was called Kingslayer. Both blades were blessed with the power of the Fires Beyond, a power which stood above any of the gods of the land. With them none could defeat Culumar in a test of arms.

Yet sitting upon his throne of airy gold, with the finest delicacies and the most beautiful concubines of the land at his side, Culumar was not happy. The girth of his kingdom was marked in a priceless map of precious stones upon the floor of his throne room, and the pillars of his great palace were all carved full of the tales of his numberless glories, yet he sighed.

“Lord, why do you sigh?” His court wizard asked. “Do you not have everything?”

“All the treasures of the earth lay before me, yet I will pass away before I can lay sight on them all. All the lands under heaven are there for me to conquer, yet I will fall old and die before my armies can girdle the breadth of the world.” He sighed again. “I wish that I was spared the fate of death!”

“You Majesty is but a man, not a Ranvar.” Said his court wizard. “It is the fate of all men to pass through Death’s Gatehouse and into the realms beyond night.”

“There must be a way!” Culumar cried. “If the gods have granted me all this but yet withhold the single gift of immortality, my kingdom might as well be dust. Nay, my mind is set. I seek to conquer death itself.”

“Conquer death?” His court wizard was taken aback. “The mighty fortress that is Death’s Gatehouse stands aloof from this world. It lies at the other side of the endless River of Crossings, deep within the Twilight Realm which has no entrance. No living man has returned from laying eyes on the Gatehouse, let alone from assaulting it. Furthermore, the three sibling gatekeepers are served by the fearsome Order of the Gate, whose leaden swords are keen enough to sunder soul from body. You majesty’s armies may find no match in the world of the living, but how can they overcome those who are the masters of death itself?”

Hearing these words did not cool Culumar’s ardor. Shutting himself in his golden palace, he devised a plan.

He ordered his wizards to create a magical drought so powerful that it would send him into a sleep as deep as death. He gathered his arms and assembled a troop of his most loyal soldiers. Then he ordered his courtiers to spread the news of his sudden demise.

“The King is dead! The King is dead!” All the gongs rung and the kingdom wept with sadness. Deep within the palace, Culumar’s men prepared a sumptuous palanquin on his orders, shrouded with pale silk and sweet-smelling spices from the east. The King then laid himself in it, clad in his iron shirt and his ornate breastplate forged by the finest Kojor smiths, wearing his great helm inlaid with gold, his two swords Kingmaker and Kingslayer at his side. Then he took the drought and immediately fell into a deep slumber, as if he was truly dead. Then his most loyal soldiers bore his palanquin out of the palace, through the mourning crowds and out of the city. They set the king upon a high outcropping of rock and dispersed as Culumar had bid them, for surely the Knights of the Gate would come in person to receive a king as mighty as he.

When Culumar awoke with a groggy head, he found that his palanquin was being borne again. But the bright sunlight of his kingdom was gone, replaced by a dreary fog, and the cheery birdsong replaced by a cold silence. It was then realized that he was already in the Twilight Realm, and when he turned his head, he saw that his pall-bearers were indeed not his trusted soldiers but eight knights with black helms, black armor and grey swords at their belts. From this, Culumar knew that the first part of his plan was successful, so now he laid still and continued acting dead as not to alert the black knights. In this way they marched through endless leagues of fog until Culumar heard the sounds of flowing water and knew that he had reached the River of Crossings, where Lady Nil in her funeral barge waited. The youngest of the three siblings who guarded the Gates of Death, the Ferrywoman, the Lady in Grey, she took the souls of dead across the endless river and to the Gatehouse, where they awaited judgment.

The knights stepped onto the barge with Culumar’s body and Lady Nil pushed off the banks with her pole. When they were halfway across, Culumar suddenly sprang upright and took up both his swords with a flourish, sent the eight surprised knights tumbling backwards into the grey waters. Then he leveled his golden blade Kingmaker at Lady Nil, who shrank back in her grey cloak.

“Take me across the river to Death’s Gatehouse, o Lady, and I will not harm you.”

“Very well.” Said the lady, and continued to guide the barge across the river. “But once you arrive, you will find your judgment there, dead or not.” True to his word, Culumar put away his swords until they came close to the shadowy far shore, where Culumar saw a company of Knights of the Gate waiting for him, leaden swords drawn.

“What treachery is this?” Culumar spun about in anger, but Lady Nil was already gone. Thus he closed the remaining distance to the bank with a mighty leap, for his court wizard have warned him that the grey waters of the River of Crossings slew the living with a mere touch. Landing with such ferocity, all his opponents were driven back a dozen paces.

“Lord Hel does not bid you welcome, o King.” They said. “He informs you that your hour has not yet come.”

“Has it not?” Culumar replied. “This is my hour.”

In the distance was the black bulk of the Gatehouse, its twisted towers and turrets cutting into the twilight sky. The great gate of entrance was just ahead as Lady Nil had promised, but the black knights barred his way.

Culumar raised his swords, intending to charge through his opponents, but then he lowered them in joyful surprise, because he suddenly spied the shade of his brother among the front ranks of the knights.

“O Timont, o dear brother! Were you not struck by a Ranvar arrow in the battle of Ghinoru? Did you not perish in my arms upon that bloody field? It warms my heart to find you chosen by the Lords of Death to guard this castle, amongst the finest warriors to ever live! But if you have ever held me as a brother in your heart, step aside and let me pass!”

But Timont’s eyes were hollow as he replied, “O King Culumar, dear brother to you I may have been at life, my allegiance now is to death alone. I partook of the Grey River’s water from Lady Nil’s chalice, and all my ties to the mortal world have been washed away as surely as I hold my leaden blade. I will not stand aside for you.” And he closed his helm.

Upon hearing this, Culumar flew into a mighty rage against the Lords of Death, against the monstrous injustice that would break hearts and turn brother against brother. With his twin blades Kingslayer and Kingmaker flashing like lightning among stormclouds, he leapt into the fray. The leaden blades of the black knights could sunder steel like hay, yet when they met the divine fire of Culumar’s swords, they bent and melted like mundane lead. Likewise were their armor riven and their shields rent in two. They were the greatest warriors ever to walk the world, yet none of them could stand against Culumar in his rage.

“Enough!” A voice boomed and the knights broke ranks, drew back into the Gatehouse and dropped the great portcullis with a resounding crash. Then they slammed the titanic gates shut and barred them with mighty bars of iron. “You have proven your skill ‘gainst my finest knights, o King. But this will not win you the day. Turn back so you might live your remaining years in peace.”

Culumar knew then it was Lord Hel who spoke, as the eldest of the three gatekeepers saw and heard all that happened within his realm, and was a great wizard besides. “Open the gates!” He shouted. “Open the gates or I will cut them down.”

There was no reply, so he did.

But the walls of Death’s Gatehouse were thick, and behind the first gate Culumar found another gate. So he again took up his swords and smote the second gate to the ground, then the next, then again the next. Each time he recited words of power and his swords glowed like the sun and the moon, and each time his blows were like thunder. Yet after each blow the radiance of his swords seemed to dim, spent against the obstinate ensorcellments that endowed each gate with the strength of a mountain. Seven gates Culumar smote down, and after the seventh gate the way before him was finally clear.

Culumar crossed the empty courtyard, but there came no black knights to bar his way. He wandered in the massive gatehouse which seemed empty and without end, and without progress he struck the pillars of the fortress in anger, leaving scars in many places, the empty corridors ringing with his cries of rage. Until finally he came upon a great hall filled with torchlight, where the three Keepers of Death waited for him.

The third sibling and youngest sister was quiet Lady Nil in her grey robe, who ferried souls from one world to the next. The second sibling and middle brother was stern Lord Kal in his black robe, who judged the souls of the dead and sent them to their fates. The first sibling and eldest brother was wise Lord Hel in his robe without color, who kept Death’s Library in which all the lives of men were bound.

“O Culumar, mighty king of the dawn, be ye so eager to see thy final destination?” Lady Nil said sadly.

“O Culumar, mighty king of the dawn, be ye so eager to have thy soul judged?” Lord Kal said angrily.

Lord Hel did not speak, but watched.

“I came not for the reasons you named.” Culumar explained. “The mighty king of dawn I may be, I cannot stand against the brutal passage of ages. All the treasures of the earth lay before me, yet I will pass away before I can lay sight on them all! All the lands under heaven are there for me to conquer, yet I will fall old and die before my armies can girdle the breadth of the world! I wish to be spared the fate of death!”

Here Lord Hel consulted a great tome, in which the entire life of King Culumar was written in ink. “As you die, so will your son take your place. As the Dawn Kingdom falls, other kingdoms will rise in its name. Such are the laws laid down by the Great Serpent, as surely as night follows day and spring follows winter. We are not the demiurges of old. It is not in our power to grant what is not in your nature.”

Culumar made his case in desperation but the Lords of Death were not to be moved. But the longer he espied his own tome of life in Lord Hel’s hands; the fire in his eyes grew brighter.

“Give me that tome, then!” He demanded. “Let me consume it in fire! My fate is too mighty to be bound in ink and vellum!”

“You shall not have it.” Lord Hel replied.

Desperate, Culumar made a grab for the tome, but Lord Kal interposed himself between the king and his elder brother and smote Culumar full upon the face. “O king, you have gone too far. You have cut down my knights and wrecked the gates of my castle. You have rampaged in its rooms and you have despoiled its walls. But worst you have tried to harm the Lords of Death, and my siblings besides. For this, your sins now weigh deep upon the scale. Go back to the pleasures of your mortal kingdom! You will find no solace in death for the crimes you committed today.”

But Culumar was deaf to sense, driven by anger and pride was he. “O just Judge of Souls, dared ye strike unjustly against the living! In the name of my honor I challenge thee to a duel!” With that he raised his swords against Lord Kal.

“I indeed struck out of turn, protective as I am for my brother. Therefore in return I will accept your challenge. But the crimes of yours have not been forgotten.” With that, Lord Kal shrugged off his black robe, revealing a coat of black mail. Then Lord Hel made it such that the black gavel with which his brother pronounced his judgments became a mighty warhammer, and that the mirror with which his brother revealed the crimes of the living became a stout shield. Lord Kal took up his arms, and Lady Nil placed his black helm upon his head with a blessing.

Both combatants assumed their positions at the center of the hall. “If I win this duel, will you grant me the gift of immortality?”

“If you win this duel, I will grant you the gift of life.”

Culumar attacked, and so did Lord Kal.

It would have been one of the greatest battles between two champions in the history of the world, were it chronicled by mortal eyes. Culumar fought with all his strength and skill, filling the vast dark hall with the flash of his swords. But Lord Kal was a mighty foe, mightier by far than any foe Culumar has even fought, and Culumar has had little time to recover from his assault upon Death’s Gatehouse. So pressing as he might, he could not gain any advantage over the Judge of Souls.

They fought for what seemed like an eon, for the twilight sky of Death’s Realm was unmarked by time. Kingmaker and Kingslayer made great rents in Lord Kal’s mail, but he was undaunted. And Lord Kal’s hammer was as inevitable as death itself, shattering Culumar’s breastplate and bloodying his helmet. At each staggering blow, Death’s gatehouse shook at its foundations and the River of Crossings overflowed its banks. But Culumar was not cowed. Seeing his moment, he launched a terrible riposte that sheared through the handle of Lord Kal’s hammer, leaving him weaponless.

“Will ye yield?” He asked the Judge of Souls.

“Death yields not.” Lord Kal replied and planted his mirror shield firmly on the floor.

Culumar let his rage take him then. He stepped forward and swung Kingmaker in a golden arc that was like the rise of the sun, and nothing would have withstood the mighty blow. But from the depths of the shield came a mirror image of Kingmaker that met Culumar’s blow with equal strength. The golden blade shattered into a million pieces and Culumar reeled back in shock, his right hand numb to the elbow. “What trickery is this?”

“It is not.” Lord Kal replied coldly.

Culumar stepped forward again and swung Kingslayer in a silver arc that was like the crescent of the moon, curving around Lord Kal’s guard in a blow of matchless speed and cunning. But from the depths of the shield came a mirror image of Kingslayer that met Culumar’s blow with equal speed and cunning. The silver blade shattered into a million pieces and Culumar reeled back again, his left palm red with blood. “What gutless sorcery is this?” He demanded.

“It is not.” Lord Kal replied coldly. “Look into my shield, and what do you see?”

Culumar looked into the shield and saw himself, blood splattering his kingly visage and rage twisting his noble features. His gold-inlaid helm was askew and his fine breastplate of Kojor steel was shattered. The fragments of his divine swords Kingmaker and Kingslayer were scattered about him like stars in the sky.

“You seek to conquer death, o king,” Lord Hel proclaimed from afar. “But you could not even conquer yourself.”

“Your weapons are no more.” Lord Kal added. “Will you yield?”

Fixing his gaze upon his reflection in the shield, Culumar quietly replied: “No, o Death. I will not yield.”

He gathered all his remaining strength and launched himself forward one last time, planting his fist, his fists which have crushed stone and strangled manticores, square in the center of Lord Kal’s mirror shield. Even the earth outside the twilight world trembled at this blow, and all the heavens writhed in storm. The reflection in the shield shattered and so did the shield itself, driving Lord Kal back many steps. But the same blow shattered Culumar and every bone in his body became as dust. He toppled like a tree upon the stony floor and could not rise.

“Will ye take my life now, o unconquerable Death?” He whispered to Lord Kal who now approached him. “Will you take my shattered body and my shattered soul?”

And all three of the Lords of Death gathered around him, and said: “We will gladly take your soul, o mighty king. For in your last blow you have proven that you saw past your worldly glories and shattered your own desires. Do you seek immortality any longer?”

Culumar searched into his heart, and indeed he did no longer.

“Then among the manifold gates that lead from the Gatehouse, the many paths that take departed souls to Hell or Elysium, we will open the highest gate to you. You have redeemed yourself of your vanity and ambition, and are worthy to join the company of the gods.”
Last edited by Invictus on Fri Jul 04, 2008 6:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"This explanation posits that external observation leads to the collapse of the quantum wave function. This is another expression of reactionary idealism, and it's indeed the most brazen expression."
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Re: Culumar Challenges Death

Post by Ford Prefect »

It's a shame that no one has replied to this, or that it hasn't received much attention, because it's really good stuff. It's well written and the content is great - it has shades of the Epic of Gilgamesh, though admittedly only in the sense that it's about a mighty kind searching for eternal life. There's a lot more sex in the Epic. :D
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Re: Culumar Challenges Death

Post by Mobius 1 »

I can't believe I never noticed this. It's epic, it's well written, what more can I say? If you wrote an entire novel of this size, I'd read it. You just placed this fic right on the top of OZ, and it's a pity no one noticed it before.

Damn, Vic. You've made me run out adjectives.
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Re: Culumar Challenges Death

Post by Czernobog »

Utterly brilliant. It's like something out of an ancient myth.
You have ruled this galaxy for ten thousand years.
You have little of account to show for your efforts.
Order. Unity. Obedience.
We taught the galaxy these things.

And we shall do so again.
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Invictus
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Re: Culumar Challenges Death

Post by Invictus »

Mobius 1 wrote:I can't believe I never noticed this. It's epic, it's well written, what more can I say? If you wrote an entire novel of this size, I'd read it. You just placed this fic right on the top of OZ, and it's a pity no one noticed it before.
As interesting as that would be, I don't think I can actually maintain this style of writing or narrative for a whole novel. :P It's best served in a short story like this, I think.
"This explanation posits that external observation leads to the collapse of the quantum wave function. This is another expression of reactionary idealism, and it's indeed the most brazen expression."
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REBUILD OF COMIX STAGE 1 - Rey Quirino Versus the Dark Heart of the Philippines
"...a literary atrocity against the senses..." - Ford

REBUILD OF COMIX STAGE 2 - Advent Rey Returns: REVERGELTUNG
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