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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 92: Of Time and Rivers
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 14:00:10 +0000 UTCChapter 92: Of Time and Rivers
123 AC, Chroyane
There was also a sense of majesty to it, a faint feeling in the back of her mind telling her that this turtle was more than it appeared. She was proven correct when the creature’s maw opened, and instead of an attack, it spoke, “WHY HAVE YOU COME, STRANGER?”
Helaena had spent a lot of time researching Chroyane and even the Rhoynar in general, enough to recognise the turtles that had attacked her before. The Old Men of the River was the official name for the giant turtles that lived in the Rhoyne. The Maester who had written the book on the subject was extremely dubious of their existence, but postulated that there were too many witnesses of the creatures to dismiss them outright.
The Maester had even postulated that much of the Rhoynar’s tensions with Volantis had been due to the Valyrians killing one of these gigantic turtles, which were held sacred by them, often even considered as the consorts of Mother Rhoyne. It was even likely the reason why the ‘Turtle Wars’ were named this way.
However, that was all she had known about the giant turtles who attacked her. If she were asked about them, she would have said that they looked different from what she imagined. She thought them to be wise and peaceful creatures that would soothingly float along the Rhoyne, more akin to whales than anything else. She did not expect them to look so… decayed and violently attack them without hesitation.
And yet, even without its size, the creature before her held a majesty that the other giant turtles lacked, a sense of power and authority that was in every word he said. Beyond the animal’s ability to speak, his words, when he asked them why they had come, made her bones rattle, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the sheer weight of his words.
The Potters, on the other hand, were completely fine. Then again, what did she expect? Every time that Helaena felt proud of her gifts, she thought back at the sorcerer and his wife, of the horrors of Valyria, and whatever pride she grew was quickly snuffed away.
Harry smiled widely at the turtle and replied, “Why does anyone do anything, really? I suppose in my case, it would be curiosity, and maybe even a few answers.”
“YOU WILL FIND NO ANSWERS HERE!” the giant turtle bellowed.
The sorcerer smiled, “Oh, don’t be like that. I already have plenty. Then again, answers often lead to more questions. For example, looking at you now, one would not think that you’re a god, and yet you are. I can’t help but question how that happened.”
Did Lord Harry say that the giant turtle was a god? It made sense, looking back. The authority she felt when the beast spoke, the power she felt in his words, it was fitting for a god. And yet, compared to the Elder Dragons, compared to the Outsider and the creatures of Valyria, he felt, lesser.
She remembered reading about a turtle god during her research, but the author assumed that it was just some peasants worshipping the giant turtles, whose sighting was already rare. It would make sense for them to think that there was only one of them.
Of course, Helaena now knew that this was false, for the god, the Old Man of the River, stared down at her and replied, “I AM A PRODUCT OF THE GREAT MOTHER’S SORROW.”
“A creation, or perhaps an aspect of her,” she heard the sorcerer mumble, “But my question is what the cause of this sorrow was. It is said that Mother Rhoyne was born weeping, that her tears created the river Rhoyne, which was named after her, nourishing its inhabitants, the Rhoynar, since the dawn of days. What I came here to know is what was before that. Why has she been weeping for so long?”
For the first time, the turtle god’s expression changed, and Helaena could see the shock in his eyes, before they sharpened considerably, “THAT IS NOT A QUESTION THAT I CAN ANSWER. BUT YOU KNEW THAT. YOU WISH TO SPEAK TO THE GREAT MOTHER.”
“I do,” Harry confirmed, “But I don’t mind speaking with you first, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sure you can help me out if you want.”
“YOU COME TO THIS CURSED PLACE, ONE OF SOLITUDE AND SORROW, AND BRING A CHILD OF THE LOWLY DRAKES. I CAN SMELL THEIR TAINTED BLOOD RUNNING IN HER VEINS.”
Helaena felt herself freeze in shock as the god’s attention narrowed completely on her. She knew that the Valyrians had been the ones responsible for Chroyane’s destruction, that the Doom had not absolved them of the blood they had spilt.
And so, she stood her ground and stared at the creature in the eyes, “I am not them. My ancestors paid for their sins with the Doom of Valyria. The Valyrian Freehold is broken, and the nearest dragon is a continent away. We did not come to spill any blood, I assure you.”
The giant reptile did not answer her, his gaze seemingly reaching to her very soul. She could feel the tension in the air growing with every second, before Harry’s casual tone completely cut through it, “Fine, let’s talk about something else. Why did you bring us here?”
The god turned towards Lord Harry, and the man continued completely unconcerned, “Come on. Don’t be like that. We both know that you’re not the type who would save sailors on this river, and I have a feeling that you don’t speak to people very often. So, you brought us here for a reason. All I’m asking is that you tell us why.”
After an eternity of silence, the Old Man of the River spoke up, his voice rumbling, “YOU ARE KNOWN TO ME, STRANGER. THE GODSLAYER, THE MAN WHO BENDS SPACE AND TIME TO HIS WILL. YOU HAVE SLAIN THOSE WHO WERE GREATER THAN ME. MY CHILDREN NEED NOT SUFFER MORE THAN THEY ALREADY HAVE.”
“Your children,” Lady Daphne repeated, interjecting for the first time, “Do you mean the other turtles? You didn’t want us to kill them. That is why you called us back, isn’t it?”
The giant creature’s head stiffened, snapping towards the golden-haired woman, “YES.”
Lord Harry continued his wife’s question, “But why? You know what they are. You know what happened to them. Don’t tell me that you can’t feel their pain. They seem to be more resistant to the disease, at least more so than humans, but that is not a good thing. I can’t imagine the pain that they feel, the stone biting through what remains of their flesh every day, and sometimes even lose part of themselves without noticing, until they inevitably die. Even without the madness and the aggression, what kind of life would that be? Death would be a far more merciful fate than this.”
“THEY MUST REMAIN.”
Helaena thought that Harry’s description of the suffering these giant turtles must have been accurate, given that the god before her did not deny it. The young princess couldn’t understand how someone would let their children suffer like this, and she couldn’t help but speak out, “Why? What could have possibly justified letting them suffer as monsters?”
“THEY HAVE THEIR DUTY,” the god simply replied
Helaena didn’t know what he meant, but given Lord Harry’s widening eyes, he had. This was, of course, followed by a focused expression on his face as he addressed the god, “It’s about the city, isn’t it? All these giant turtles, you created them in your own imagination, with the simple goal of protecting Chroyane. No, that’s just a mortal city, you did it to protect Mother Rhoyne, to keep her company and help her mourn whatever started it all. And even now, despite their ravaged minds, despite their pain, they know what they were made for. And you don’t care, do you? They have been suffering every single second since they got afflicted, for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and you don’t want to give them the luxury of death.”
The turtle obviously did not like Harry’s words and released a growl that stilled the waters around them. Helaena would have thought that he would attack them, but that sound trailed out into an involuntary solemn croon, which made Helaena’s eyes water. Seconds later, the sound was gone, and the giant creature looked at them and spoke in a regretful tone, “THE GREAT MOTHER HAS GROWN FRAGILE SINCE THE DRAKE RIDERS CAME. SHE NEEDS PROTECTION, EVEN IF IT COMES FROM THOSE WHO SUFFER.”
His voice was steady, but there was a clear note of sorrow. He did not argue, nor did he deny Lord Harry’s words, and he did not relish in his decision of his creation suffering for centuries.
The sorcerer, however, was not convinced at all, “Then why don’t you do it? Despite being a god, you’re somehow a physical being. I still have no idea how that’s even possible, but you should be able to stop any trespassers easily by just manipulating the river and sinking their ships.”
The turtle tilted its head in thought, “DIVINE INTERFERENCE INVITES DIVINE RETRIBUTION. THE GREAT MOTHER MUST NOT FALL AT THE HANDS OF HER ENEMIES.”
The Potters accepted this argument, but Helaena didn’t. She turned towards them and asked, “I don’t understand.”
Lady Daphne was the one to explain it, “Gods have their own rules too, their own bindings. They can’t exactly invade their territory themselves or fight amongst themselves. It’s why they send mortals to do their bidding for them. It is a lot less damaging on the material realm, but just as effective. The mist is a lot cleverer than one might think. Beyond countering the Valyrians, it would lessen most mortal blessings, enough to be powerless against the giant turtles, even if they’re under the influence of greyscale. An almost perfect defence against hostile gods, all to protect Mother Rhoyne.”
Harry then clapped his hands excitedly and changed the subject, “Alright, so I suppose you don’t have a choice in keeping your children alive, so let’s go the other way. What can you tell me about greyscale? It’s obviously more than just a disease or a curse, or else you’d have wiped it out easily enough, or at least stopped it from spreading.”
“I KNOW NOT THE ORIGIN OF THE CURSE OF ROTTEN STONE.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe. It’s supposed to have begun here, after all. On top of this city, the Valyrians came and burned this city to the ground. I also saw a laboratory in what remained of Valyria, studying the disease. It’s funny that it made its way there despite the distance. It’s infected everything it could, even dragons, killing a few, turning others to stone, and sometimes even changing them into something… more, something monstrous.”
The turtle didn’t answer, and Harry continued, “It’s also funny how a few people who suffered from it somehow learned how to breathe underwater. Water magic is a speciality of the Rhoynar, isn’t it? They even call it Garin’s curse, you know. The final vengeance of the last king of Chroyane against the Valyrian Freehold.”
Finally, it was that last name that made the turtle god react, where he yelled out, his voice shaking the boat in its rage, “YOU DARE SPEAK THAT CREATURE’S NAME!”
Helaena felt the boat shift slightly as the water surged beneath them, but the barrier around them held. The mist still surrounded the area, unmoving, but it did not cross the line Harry had set. They remained dry, safe, and still.
The sorcerer didn’t move. “So, you know who I mean,” he said, calm. “Garin. The one they say cursed the Rhoyne. The one who fought the Valyrians when they burned this city.”
“HE WAS A FOOL,” the turtle god said. “HE USED POWER HE DID NOT UNDERSTAND, UNCARING OF THE CONSEQUENCES, ALL TO SPITE HIS DEFEATERS, ALL TO AVOID THE OUTCOMES OF HIS RECKLESSNESS.”
“Then tell me what really happened,” Harry replied. “I’m something of an expert when it comes to curses. I might even undo whatever he did.”
The god stared ahead. He didn’t answer immediately, but was far calmer than he was just seconds prior. His giant head all but slumped forward, and he released another mournful cry, “IT CANNOT BE UNDONE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH I WISH IT SO.”
Helaena did not know why the god hated Garin so much. The last king of Chroyane was known as a legend for all of the remaining Rhoynar. He was the first man who dealt a powerful blow to the Dragonlords, the man who had shown everything that the Valyrian Freehold was vulnerable and dealt a heavy blow to their military might, one that they spent centuries fixing, as well as a curse that remained to this day.
Despite being a Dragonlord herself, Helaena could understand how impressive it was. She wished to ask more, but it was obvious that the turtle god would not take any more questions on the matter quickly.
Thankfully, it was Daphne who broke the silence, “Whose screech was it in the end?”
The Old Man of the River seemed almost confused by the question, and she elaborated, “When Harry separated the greyscale from an infected snake earlier, we heard a loud screech as it destabilised, an echo of something.”
That seemed to break the giant turtle from his stupor, and he replied, grief dripping in his voice, “IT IS NOT A SCREECH.”
He refused to elaborate further, and they all knew that he would not say anything else on the matter. Instead, the good looked at the ruined city in the distance, “I CANNOT DISSUADE YOU FROM YOUR DOOM QUEST.”
Harry looked at both his wife and Helaena before turning back to the god with a determined look, “No, you can’t.”
If anything, the creature’s voice became even sadder, “I KNOW THAT I CANNOT STOP YOU, STRANGER, BUT KNOW THIS, SHOULD YOU SURVIVE THE CRAB’S MEDDLING, YOU WILL NOT FIND WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IN THIS RUINED CITY.”
Harry gave the giant turtle a smile, “Maybe, but we’d rather find that out ourselves, if you don’t mind.”
The river shifted beneath their boat, and in the blink of an eye, Helaena found herself staring at the ruins of Chroyane. Structures of stone, broken and submerged, stood in silence. Vines climbed the walls. The buildings that still stood were blackened, worn by time, and partially collapsed. Statues were cracked or missing heads. She could almost see the mist moving in the distance, as if he were alive.
She turned back towards the god, who stared at them blankly, “Why did you help us?”
“I WILL NOT HAVE MY CHILDREN PERISH BY ATTACKING YOU. THIS IS THE FURTHEST I CAN TAKE YOU ON YOUR DOOMED JOURNEY. THOUGH I URGE YOU TO TURN BACK.”
Harry smiled at the god, “Not on your life. Though I must thank you, Old Man of the River, for your help.”
The giant turtle nodded imperiously, but Helaena felt like he was hesitating. After battling through his indecision, he spoke up, his tone serious, “BEWARE THE SHROUDED ONE. AND SHOULD YOU FIND HER, BE MERCIFUL. SHE IS NOT AS SHE WAS.”
They all stayed silent at the warning, and he continued, “IF YOU WISH TO REPAY MY KINDNESS, THEN HELP HER.”
That was the last thing he said before disappearing into the river, leaving them alone before the entrance to Chroyane. Still, Helaena couldn’t help but remember the god’s plea near the end, the desperate hope in his voice, despite his words urging them to leave this cursed place.
As their boat drifted slowly towards the entrance, the princess felt as if some boundary had been passed, with the mist becoming even more oppressive than it used to be. And so, in complete silence, they finally crossed the veil and entered the grieving city of Chroyane.
AN: I had a lot of fun writing this, even if it was a bit tricky not to reveal more than I wanted. I wanted to show the Old Man of the River as a different sort of god, and his true nature will be revealed later as a bit of a twist, but still somewhat alien in his priorities. I hope this chapter came out like I wanted it to, but if not, I don't mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. So, as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
