Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [18]
Fire burned in Dilaf’s eyes. “Yes,” he hissed. The man’s fervor wouldn’t let him reject such an offer. Though his lowly rank of arteth would remain unchanged, being odiv to a gyorn would enormously increase Dilaf’s power and respectability. He would be Hrathen’s slave, if that slavery would carry him higher. It was a very Fjordell thing to do—ambition was the one emotion Jaddeth would accept as readily as devotion.
“Good,” Hrathen said. “Then your first order is to follow the priest Fjon. He should be getting on the ship to Fjordell right at this moment—I want you to make sure he does so. If Fjon gets off for any reason, kill him.”
“Yes, my gyorn.” Dilaf rushed from the room. He finally had an outlet for his enthusiasm. All Hrathen had to do now was keep that enthusiasm focused in the right direction.
Hrathen stood for a moment after the Arelish man had gone, then shook his head and turned back to his desk. The scroll still lay where it had fallen from Fjon’s unworthy fingers; Hrathen picked it up with a smile, his touch reverent. He was not a man who delighted in possessions; he set his sights on much grander accomplishments than the simple accumulation of useless baubles. However, occasionally an object came along that was so unique, Hrathen reveled in simply knowing it belonged to him. One did not own such a thing for its usefulness, or for its ability to impress others, but because it was a privilege to possess. The scroll was such an object.
It had been scribed in front of Hrathen by Wyrn’s own hand. It was revelation directly from Jaddeth; scripture intended for only one man. Few people ever got to meet Jaddeth’s anointed, and even among the gyorns, private audiences were rare. To receive orders directly from Wyrn’s hand … such was the most exquisite of experiences.
Hrathen ran his eyes over the sacred words again, even though he had long since memorized their every detail.
Behold the words of Jaddeth, through His servant Wyrn Wulfden the Fourth, Emperor and King.
High Priest and Son, your request has been granted. Go to the heathen peoples of the West and declare to them my final warning, for while my Empire is eternal, my patience will soon end. Not much longer will I slumber within a tomb of rock. The Day of Empire is at hand, and my glory will soon shine forth, a second sun blazing forth from Fjorden.
The pagan nations of Arelon and Teod have been blackened scars upon my land for long enough. Three hundred years have my priests served amongst those tainted by Elantris, and few have harkened to their call. Know this, High Priest: My faithful warriors are prepared and they wait only the word of my Wyrn. You have three months to prophesy to the people of Arelon. At the end of that time, the holy soldiers of Fjorden will descend on the nation like hunting predators, rending and tearing the unworthy life from those who heed not my words. Only three months will pass before the destruction of all who oppose my Empire.
The time for my ascension nears, my son. Be stalwart, and be diligent.
Words of Jaddeth, Lord of all Creation, through his servant Wyrn Wulfden the Fourth, Emperor of Fjorden, Prophet of Shu-Dereth, Ruler of Jaddeth’s Holy Kingdom, and Regent of all Creation.
The time had finally come. Only two nations resisted. Fjorden had regained its former glory, glory lost hundreds of years ago when the First Empire collapsed. Once again, Arelon and Teod were the only two kingdoms who resisted Fjordell rule. This time, with the might of Jaddeth’s holy calling behind it, Fjorden would prevail. Then, with all mankind united under Wyrn’s rule, Jaddeth could rise from His throne beneath the earth and reign in glorious majesty.
And Hrathen would be the one responsible for it. The conversion of Arelon and Teod was his urgent duty. He had three months to change the