Conclusion

The quest of Godric's Seven put an end to two threats in The Vale, that of the Ruin Within and the Curse of War.  It also revealed the true motivations of the cult of Sisyn : posing as the erstwhile allies of the company, they are in truth the Whispers from Beyond.  Led by their High Priestess, the very lady that Godric escorted from Okerdik to Tidjit, at the behest of the village's shaman.

It was no wonder that the shaman himself had also learned fear.  The cult of Sisyn had already been brutally stamped out once, and to protect its rebirth, it was ready to use the Pull, and swamp The Vale, and no doubt the lands beyond, with the undead.  Their intended source for their mindless protectors were the massed burial grounds of Taran warriors, who had marched out from the peaks of Killingtara to die in combat for long-lost causes and reasons.   

The Taran Hu-Man civilisation had been flourishing and brilliant, builders of vast underground cities.  The company had seen that both in the foundations of Mankhundun, and in Tara's Tower itself, on the snowswept flanks of the mountain now called Killingtara.

Parthoghimeos and Noctulo had spent an entire day copying inscriptions from the base of what was clearly the throne of Tara herself, whilst the others followed their instructions and carefully filled their backpacks with fragile books bound in worn, mouldy leather, and scrolls on parchment so yellowed it was hard to read.  They had cursed as the parchment cracked with every movement, but the Cult of Sisyn, who were edging downwards to take the Tower, were far too focused on their goal to notice a discreet company heading in the other direction.  They had breathed the chilling air of Killingtara with enormous relief.

From the slopes of Killingtara they had picked their way back to Mankhundun.  Throughout the journey, Partho had read books and scrolls, whilst his tortoise carried him forward with its gentle gait.  By the time they reached the monastery, he had been able to piece together the grand scheme.

"All of them ?  Every last one ?" asked the abbot, incredulous.

"Yes", Parthoghimeos explained to them, stabbing his finger at the relevant line of text in the book open in front of him.  It sent a cloud of dust and spores swirling upwards.  Noctulo had done a good job cleaning up the scrolls and the tomes at each halt, but there was still much to do.

"Just like us", the chipmunk continued, "the Tarans - I still don't know the name they gave themselves - initially thought of Sisyn as a funeral cult.  It took them a while to realise the High Priests and Priestesses could communicate with the dead."

"They figured that out after one of their great battles", chipped in Noctulo, to whom the magician had already explained everything he had pieced together.  "The cult of Sisyn talked to some of their dead, we guess to learn the secrets of Taran civilisation and aggrandise Tidjit."

"Whatever the reason, it was utter blasphemy to the Tarans", Partho picked up.  "That ritual we saw in the throne-room is a rite of passage from life to death.  The narrow bridge has something to do with judgement, in any case, those who pass the test are guaranteed to leave this flawed world forever.  Bringing them back contradicted everything the Tarans' religion promised their people."

The company could easily guess the rest.  With the means of a civilisation at its peak, the Tarans set to brutally stamp out the cult of Sisyn, and obviously did a near-perfect job of it.

"It is unclear whether the worshippers of Sisyn already knew how to raise the dead, or if they discovered the Pull during their desperate and arcane research.  Perhaps their God gave it to them as a boon, who knows ?  The cult seems to have gone mad with power, not only raising Taran dead, but also all manner of monstrous creatures whose skeletal remains we saw above the throne-room.  They invaded Tara's Tower with that undead horde, and the Taran's queen died defending her realm".

"And then they killed them all, every last one", said the abbot again, grimly.

"Yes.  The cult defiled the inscription at the base of the throne, boasting of their exploits.  Even the script they used....reeks of blood" replied Parthoghimeous, and he visibly cringed.  Subconsciously, Noctulo edged the incriminating manuscript under the pile.

"Then their own creations turned on them", added Noctulo.  "We can only surmise this part", the bat added, "but from a few odd folk-tales that Partho heard in Tidjit, we think the undead warriors pursued the priesthood tirelessly."

"Sisyn's price for his gift", murmured Ruairidh, who seemed to suddenly piece together tales and lore of his people.  He confirmed it with his next phrase.  "We frighten misbehaving children in Tidjit with these tales, or secretly laugh behind the shaman's back when he utters them from his mystical trance."  

"The God of Death invites all into his realm, especially those who seek him in prayer", Noctulo stated uncertainly in a foreign tongue, then translated, obviously citing from a manuscript. 

The cult of Sisyn had survived, weakened, reduced to a High Priest or Priestess and a handful of followers, tracked across the centuries by undead hunters.  When the Tarans had appeared anew, the cult supposed it was to finish them off.  They called their High Priestess back from exile and hiding in Okerdik, and prepared their defense, making a pact with Sisyn that he could take all but one of them when it was over.

The company fell silent for a long time, until stirrings in the corridor outside the library reminded them that the monks that the abbot had sent out, were patiently waiting.

 

"We will send help as soon as we reach Alladore", Godric promised the Abbot.  "Another company of Rangers will come and finish what we have started, but cannot conclude".  Around him, his companions were readying for the long journey.  Mina was fixing her long sword across her back; Krik was checking his bow for the third time.  Radovan was sober for the first time in a week, and not looking happy about it.  Partho was shaking hands with Noctulo, who now knew all the chipmunk did about the happenings in the Vale, and would advise the Abbot of Mankhundun about the difficult times to come.  Ruairidh could not, of course, return to Tidjit and between the abbey and Alladore, had chosen the latter.

As they filed through the monastery gate, the Abbot touched Godric's sleeve.

"If they killed every last one of them, where did these Tarans come from that you fought ?".  The question had obviously been laying heavy on his mind.

"That, friend, we do not know for sure", replied Godric.  "The Jungle Deep is, however, at work.  Our peril has never been greater".