ALL NOVEL Chapter 27 – Thal’rin
Found innocent? Staying at the High Channeler’s home? What? Vincent's response was to simply gawk at them. What in the hell was happening?!
“Do you hear Thal'rin's words?” Orth demanded.
“Uh...yeah?”
“That will be all,” Thal'rin said. No closing statement, no ritual, nothing spectacular. One by one The Thirteen exited the auditorium, each taking a moment to stare at him.
Thal’rin picked up the bracers and put them in the box, then handed them off to the guards and waited until they were out of the range of hearing. Then he turned toward Vincent.
“Well, shall we go?” he asked.
“Wh-wh...” He gawked at the creature. “What?!”
“You've been found innocent,” he said, “and I suppose this means little to you, but we believe…well, more like strongly suspect, that you match the descriptions of the Saedharu. It is a word that carries weight around the world. But I will not bother you with the details of that for now. Come now, I believe your belongings are being secured on my landrider.”
“Why?” Vincent asked.
“It has been decided that you will be staying under my roof,” Thal’rin said as though the answer were obvious, “that is, until we figure out more about you.” The creature appeared to cringe at his own choice of words. “‘Until we figure out more about you,’” he repeated in self-mockery, “peh! I apologize for my ineptitude with words today. I have been without much sleep and a thousand mountains are falling.”
“A thousand mountains are falling...” Vincent mouthed. Seriously, what the hell just happened?
“It is a figure of speech from up North,” Thal’rin elaborated, “a mountain will stand for generations on end, it is often as immortal as the lands from which it was formed. When a mountain falls, the landscape as you know it is forever changed. When a thousand mountains fall, the world you know it ceases to be. It is hyperbolic. The nature of your existence, speculative as it may be, changes things. Well? We have not asked you if my hospitality is acceptable. There is a room we save for ambassadors and guests.”
Is this guy a lunatic? Vincent thought.
He had no idea what in the hell had just happened. These “people” were getting ready to condemn him, but now he was about to bunk at the High Channeler's house? He said “sure” before he could stop himself. This was getting weirder and weirder.
The creature led him down the hallway, limping as he walked. He abruptly stopped at one of the cells, opened the door and grabbed a sheet from one of the beds, sniffed it, rolled it up and tucked it across the kalcs of his wings. Then he continued on without saying anything, bracing the walls for support.
“I swear I am not a cripple,” he said to Vincent’s unasked inquiry, “my wife has adopted a silith. The cursed animal has come to think that my feet and tail are its playthings. And this morning, it decided my ankle was breakfast. It torments nobody else, only me...that is the cause of my lumbering.”
Vincent, still baffled from whatever just transpired, said nothing as he followed the limping creature outside to a large brown landrider. Overhead, a crystal canopy glimmered purple. Its scale made him reel with vertigo. So he kept his eyes close to the ground and surrounding architecture. Thal’rin unraveled the blanket and tore it in half down the middle. He handed a strip to Vincent who did not know what to do with it.
“We will cover ourselves,” Thal’rin explained, “I am the Diac, and you are the mysterious figure who rides with him from this prison. It will raise too many questions. But if we cover ourselves, perhaps the public will think we are a couple of traveling Silent Ones, even if it makes us look ridiculous. It is...'unconventional', but I have rarely been known for convention.”
Perplexed, Vincent followed Thal’rin’s lead and climbed up after him. He caught a flash of the bandage wrapped around the creature’s shin, splotched with flowers of blue blood. Thal’rin draped the torn blanket over his head and wings and pulled it around himself like a hooded cape. Vincent did the same, though not quite as deftly. He was still getting used to the new anatomy that his mind inhabited.
“Won’t...won't they recognize your landrider?” Vincent asked. It was not the question he wanted to ask. Indeed, he wanted to ask what the hell just went down back there. But he was too stunned to think clearly.
“Enhel is a chocolate fur,” Thal’rin said, “it would take a keen eye to spot her out of the many others.”
It took a good half hour to reach the creature's home. During which Vincent dared pull back the bedsheet just enough to give him a view of the city. He felt as if they were traveling through the set of an elaborate Spielberg production.
The streets of Meldohv Syredel were cobbled with colored brick and ornately laid tile. Intricate mosaics chased their designs along the walls and sidewalks, causing them to bloom with vivid, flamboyant displays. Vines and gardens wove around jagged columns and lamp posts, making them almost look like part of the natural scenery.
Falians pushed and shoved, yelling at each other to keep moving. Traders set up booths in the alleyways selling spices and herbs while some sold strange beasts which they kept in cages. Others sold false conduits for children, toys that danced and walked, that flew up into the air and sizzled, gathering a small crowd of youths with pointy snouts.
Thal’rin turned to the right and headed down a street where a series of vines arched overhead, creating a charming tunnel of flora. Orange fruit glowed with a dull luminescence and lanterns hung in round cages from the apex. Here, more vendors set up an array of crude grills on which they seared savory cuts of meat. The air was filled with the scent of smoke and spice. It had a sweet aroma not unlike cinnamon and turmeric. Vincent felt his stomach ache with a renewed hunger.
Thal’rin turned his mount down a narrow alleyway and removed the blanket from his figure. Vincent took that as an indication that he could do the same, so he did. They came up upon the backside of a rather large three-story structure formed of blonde stucco and brick. The roof had sleek curves, graceful dips, and there appeared to be a small courtyard on top.
A well-off family on Earth could afford such a place, but compared to the role Thal’rin supposedly had, it seemed rather modest. But then again, when compared to The Thirteen, even the High Channeler’s garbs were subdued. The creature simply didn’t carry itself with the demeanor of one to be feared or revered for the power many attributed to it.
Thal’rin directed his landrider down a ramp and into a stall that also served as a dock. Vincent expected servants to come out to greet him and take charge of his beast. None appeared. Thal’rin carefully lowered himself onto the dock and began to tether his landrider to an iron post.
“Your belongings are on her right flank.” he said as he secured the knot.
Vincent dismounted Enhel and retrieved a bag containing his garments from the beast, then he flung them over his shoulder.
“He is lying.”
Vincent’s ear twitched, but he ignored it and followed the creature into the building. Thal’rin lead him down a narrow hallway and into the main foyer before taking a brief respite on a nearby bench and massaged his ankle.
“Well,” he said, removing his horn guard and pulling back his hood to expose his golden snout. “Welcome to my home.”
A crystal lantern hung from the apex of the room, illuminating the space with its light. Stone vines grew from the floor and curled along the ceramic wall before submitting to a segmented slope which curved in increments towards the ceiling. Each of these segments was painted a different color and when it met a door or a window, it formed Persian arches. The style was flamboyant and exuberant with detail. The shapes had similarities to Celtic and Islamic designs while exhibiting a Spanish flair for color.
Embedded into the floor were black and white spirals formed of mosaic tiles. A stone brazier in the middle of the room held in it a small mound of luminescent crystals. There were four passages that intersected the chamber, one to Vincent's right, from which they just came, another to his left, and one behind Thal'rin. He didn’t know what he should do so he continued to explore the chamber with his eyes, taking in the exotic sight.
The taps of his claws reverberated off the hard domed rotunda as he paced. Two flights of curved steps flanked the hallway from which they came and led to the second floor. The balcony was partially obscured by columns fashioned to resemble stalactites from a cave. From the corner of Vincent’s eye, he could see Thal’rin watching him, perhaps waiting for him to ask questions.
“I suppose I better show you where you will be staying,” Thal’rin winced as he stood back up. “Then I have to go change these bandages.”
Vincent followed the creature up the flight of steps and down a hallway to the right, saying nothing. What would he say? More stone vines spread down the length of the passage, growing all the way up until they covered the ceiling. Great lengths had been taken to give the passage an organic, asymmetric aesthetic.
Lanterns hid among the vines, casting the floor with soft shadows. Above them a ceiling had been painted to resemble the heavens. Blue skies faded to a night with stylized stars. Vincent thought he heard a few faint murmurings hiding among the stonework.
“You are useless.” they said.
Thal’rin stopped abruptly and looked up as if he had heard the voices as well.
“Sylax!” he growled, “don’t even entertain the thought of attacking us or I will throw you out the nearest window!”
At first Vincent could not see what the creature was looking at, but then he noticed a critter hiding among the vines. Green fur lined a triangular face and wide blue eyes stared down at them both. The critter sniffed the air and came out of its hiding place, hanging upside-down from the vines with all three pairs of legs. Its tail twitched erratically before wrapping around a nearby vine for extra support. Its curious gaze quickly jittered from Thal’rin to Vincent several times. Thal’rin swung at it with one of his wings, causing it to retreat among the stonework and skitter unseen down the hallway.
“Here we are.” Thal’rin stopped at a tall blue door and opened it.
He led Vincent into a tall circular chamber with a cone-shaped ceiling. A mural depicting gold and white flames adorned the wall. Their tongues became like threads weaving in and out of stone, curling into trees and branches, manifesting into living creatures. He followed the flames to their origin, which was a corona wrapped around a glass mirror, where he saw himself, or rather the creature he possessed, reflecting his confusion and dismay.
“If you wish to look upon our city,” Thal'rin said, walking over to the door to unlock it. “There is a balcony outside this door. A ward has been placed in order to hide our guests from the streets below and the sky above, so you do not have to worry about being spotted. There is a washroom over there with oils. Kiolai Reashos said you were repelled by the trylics you encountered in Teramin. I hope you will be glad to hear I share the same revulsion.”
“You are useless.”
Vincent walked over to the bed and placed his bag on it. Several insects wriggled their way from under the sheets and scattered across the floor before burrowing impossibly into the tile. He only gave the faintest twitch at their appearance, nor did he react much when an angry eye opened up in the wall and began to speak with Dave’s voice.
“He is a liar. Don’t listen to him Cordell.”
“So you are a caretaker after all,” Vincent said.
“I did say such a thing could be said of me,” Thal’rin chuckled, “if you have any questions, I will strive to answer them.”
“Yeah. I have a few,” Vincent scoffed, “what the hell happened back there? I mean, you brought me in to try me for murder or something like that. But then because I put on those handcuffs and started glowing, I'm suddenly innocent? Not only that, I'm this...whatever you called it.”
“The 'Saedharu'?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“For now, it is just conjecture,” Thal'rin said, “and I am afraid I cannot answer that in a few words. But if I were forced to encapsulate my reasons, I would simply say that when you are in a position such as mine, you learn to open yourself to believing the unbelievable. And that certain events have forced my mind to do just that.”
“Don’t listen to him Cordell! He is a liar!” Dave’s eye began to weep blood-red tears.
“So, you believe I’m not one of you.” Vincent traced the faint streaks of crimson which seemed to have permanently stained the fabric of his hoodie. “You simply...accept that? Just like that?”
Thal'rin pondered his words for a few moments before answering. “I believe you may fit a mold of a figure described by a collection of documents and stories, collectively known as The Lore of Contradictions. They repeatedly describe a character who is a walking contradiction, a creature whose very nature is to 'contradict', whose existence is a paradox in of itself. Whether or not you hail from another world, I don’t know.”
“You are worthless...”
“Go jump off the balcony.”
“You are useless.”
“It is also said–” Thal’rin continued as he walked over to the balcony and put his hands on the railing. Vincent put down the hoodie and was going to do the same, but he stopped at the threshold, “–that this figure, the Saedharu, will be an exception to our laws.”
“Like having the Bane,” Vincent said, looking out over the majestic city but seeing none of it. He ran a claw along the door's frame and focused intently on the grains in the polished wood. “I keep being told nobody survives it. You people treat that like a law.”
“Some say it is part of the punishment we inherited from The Severance. It is written into our blood,” Thal'rin said, “whatever it is, curse or ailment, it kills everybody. You are correct, it may as well be one of our laws.”
“I was also told something happens to the eyes when somebody in your world goes off the deep end.”
“Off the 'deep end'?” Thal’rin turned to look at him. “I am not familiar with that–”
The creature froze in the middle of his sentence when he saw Vincent’s eyes. In the following silence, the whispers of Vincent’s schizophrenia hid among the white noise of the city. Though he kept his poise, a look of silent shock slowly passed over the creature's countenance. A tightness gripped at its snout. Vincent's madness added worms to the triangular shape, making them wriggle under Thal’rin’s flesh and pour out the eyes.
“You'd be able to tell, wouldn’t you?” Vincent asked, “if the person standing next to you had it? The Bane, I mean? If you looked right into their eyes like you're looking into mine right now? I mean, surely the ‘High Channeler’ of this metropolis should be able to detect such a thing?”
“When did it return?” Thal'rin asked calmly.
“After we left that forest. Hell, I was tempted to escape those guards because a voice told me to.”
“Don’t tell him anything!” Dave called from behind.
“And now there is a bloody eyeball on the wall that keeps telling me you’re a liar. There are worms crawling under your skin, coming out your eyes and nose. Any moment now they will–”
Static rolled through his mind, and he went blank. He didn’t hear Thal’rin say his name, nor did he react to the creature tapping on his shoulder or tugging on his wing. It was as if his madness yearned to protect him from their world by sending him into a state of catatonia.
The burnout left him vacant and void, an empty shell in which no mind inhabited. It was only after he found himself gagging, coughing up black clouds on the floor inside that he realized what had happened. He saw Thal’rin standing at his side, corking the bottle of Triasat and stowing it carefully onto the bed.
“Catatonic state,” Vincent said, clenching his teeth. “They're supposed to be incredibly rare, but fuck it. Never a dull moment in your world, is there?” He pushed himself up off the floor feeling both humiliation and rage. “I can’t get a goddamn break!”
He could feel himself tipping closer to the breaking point as the fire of his venom suddenly surged forth and burned through his chest. Not knowing what to do with his pent-up rage, he made his way back toward the balcony to get some air.
But when he looked down, he saw a world filled with wings, snouts, and horns, he felt his mind imploding. He looked up at the crystal mountain that housed the city and felt it boring down upon his chest. Everywhere he looked was a beautiful reflection of a delirious fantasy. He didn’t know who he was, his life was fractured, his memories stolen from him. This world...this damn world wanted to drive him insane.
He heard the clacking of claws slowly approach him from behind. But he did not turn to look at Thal’rin. From his peripheral vision, Vincent saw the creature place his hands on the railing and gaze out toward its home.
“I have been told,” Thal'rin said after a few hushed moments, “that I am an exceptional orator. I’ve woven stories with words ever since I was a child, a skill I was taught by my father, actually. I have honed my dialect so that I could craft worlds with the tongue. I’ve learned five different languages and am fluent in four of them. It is one of the greatest gifts I have been granted and yet here, I do not know what I should say to you. I do not know if I can find the words. Never could anybody have guessed that such a thing would...could happen. And I am sorry...”
Thal’rin was staring at him now. Not at the creature whose body he inhibited, but the mind trapped within. The creature seemed to see past the construct of blue flesh and when he spoke, Vincent heard the horror in its voice. Thal’rin was addressing Vincent not as a Falian, but as a creature made to look like one.
“No amount of condolences could express how...sorry I am that this happened to you,” he said, hardly louder than a stunned whisper. There was a look of shock and horror behind his triangular complexion. Vincent quickly looked away from the creature and quickly fixated on the railing. What the fuck was wrong with him?! “I don’t think it is possible for me to fathom the horror you have experienced from the moment you were brought into our world nor the torment you must be experiencing right now. I don’t know what you are, or what took you from your world and put your mind into this flesh, but...no creature...no creature should be forced to endure such a thing.”
Vincent placed one hand on top of the other and squeezed, squeezed until the claws dug painfully into the back of his palms. He wanted that pain, he wanted it to fucking hurt so he would be distracted. But the pain did little to stop his vision from blurring. Cursing silently, he looked away and he raised a hand to wipe his eyes, and then tried to disguise the motion as an itch. He wished the creature would shut up.
“You have earned my belief, Vincent Cordell,” Thal'rin said, “you have earned my belief...you are not from our world, and I am horrified for you. I don’t know how to assuage your torment. I don’t even know how you endure it. If I were in your place, I don’t think I would be able to stop screaming.”
Vincent’s mouth was like a tightened clamp. It took effort and a fair amount of will in order to open it and even when he did, he failed several times to form words. When he managed to speak, his voice was filled with odd, unwanted inflections.
“I heard the stories,” he whispered too quietly for anybody to hear so he cleared his throat and repeated it a little louder. “I heard the stories...about you. Heard your name several times. Most powerful channeler in– whatever the hell your continent is called. You're a damn sorcerer, aren't you? They say you can destroy armies. If you’re more than...more than a symptom of brain damage, then use Weaverfire. Open a gate to Earth, whatever. Send me back. Or at least undo 'this',” he gestured to his form weakly.
Vincent heard the answer in Thal’rin’s sigh before he even spoke.
“Those who use the term ‘powerful’ to describe me demonstrate a grave misunderstanding of our relationship with the Flow of Falius,” he said with sorrow in his voice, “I do have the power to defend Meldohv, that is true. But it cannot repair what has been done to you. It has its 'dictations'. As for using Weaverfire, I did that only once. It is an incredible tale, but it had nothing to do with prowess and more with me coming to terms with the fact that in the grand scope of things, I am powerless. The gate is a remnant from a time in which we had not yet betrayed our creator. The Severance left a stain on us all. Only something that surpassed mortal terror enabled me to enact the Naikiran method and wield Weaverfire. But if I were to tell that tale, I would prefer to wait. The point is,” Thal’rin paused to consider his words. “Despite that humbling experience, I have grown prideful again. I feel the gate, but my pride keeps it locked to me. If I were to force it open, I would be devoured.”
Vincent scoffed at the cop-out. He wanted to scream at the useless creature standing next to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What was he expecting anyway, for Thal’rin to raise a staff and erect a golden shimmering gate to Earth, where Vincent could see his human form sleeping in a hospital bed? Would he step through into his own body and awaken with a new appreciation for life like some shitty Hallmark special?
“If you wish to curse me for that,” Thal’rin said, as if reading his mind, “I would not blame you. But I promise I will do everything in my power to help you, in whatever form that may take. I’ll have Luin send some people to investigate both Lorix’s Observatory and Lorix’s Eye. I don’t know if we can expect to find anything there, but we will look. In the meantime, I know nothing of your 'people'. I do not know how to speak to you, how to address you, what customs you follow. As such, I am bound to make many mistakes in the upcoming days.”
“I want to be left alone,” Vincent said.
“Understandable,” Thal’rin said as he turned to leave the railing. “I’ll bring food up later and leave it outside your room.” When he reached the door, Vincent heard him mutter, “A thousand mountains falling indeed. What will I tell Bayont when she comes back from Aul?” Then the door shut.
Vincent stood awkwardly in the silence that followed, allowing his arms to dangle freely by his side. The clack of claws on stone echoed off the walls as he circled the room aimlessly. He was alone again, alone with the quiet of clarity to haunt him. No, it wasn’t completely quiet, he could hear the city of Meldohv Syredel breathe with its collective noise.
The crash of the ocean waves against stone, the chattering of pedestrians passing by in the streets below, the occasional cry of one of Falius' birds as they chased each other past one of the circular windows, through which a purple light poured. Clack...clack...clack, his claws echoed, tapping a rhythm against the hard stone.
Every pass in front of the mirror showed him a winged creature clutching a hooded sweat-jacket in its claws, mimicking his movements. His pace slowly increased in tempo, became more frantic, the tapping of keratin against stone a constant reminder of his fate. His walk took him into the washroom, where he encountered another exotic sight.
The washroom was a small, egg-shaped, windowless chamber with a column of water suspended in the middle. It slowly poured from the ceiling and disappeared into a grid of square holes in the floor. Vincent felt the pulsing of a ward holding the water in suspension. After shutting the door behind him so that the only source of illumination was a crystal that rested on a shelf, he strolled around the column. His extended claws cut into the flow, sending a shower of suspended droplets scattering about the chamber. They danced and undulated like jewels free-falling in zero gravity before being caught by the ward and rejoining the stream. There, they flowed through the grate in the floor.
The lambent crystal was resting on a dense black cloth, which Vincent folded over it to blot out the light, casting the chamber into darkness. Then he felt around for the wall and used it to lower himself to the floor. His breaths bounced off the concave walls as the weight of the air pressed against his bosom. Nobody was around. He was all alone, with the darkness as his companion.
Air rushed through his nostrils and crashed against clenched teeth, hissing into the chamber. He looked up towards the ceiling and felt himself swallow; a guttural, choking noise crept out of his maw. Panic roiled like nausea in his chest and stomach, closing in on him with the constriction of claustrophobia. He tried to lean back, but the tail prevented flush contact with the wall.
“Wake me...” he whispered in torment, “wake me up...anybody...wake me the fuck up.”
He wadded the jacket up in his hands and stuffed it against his mouth, certain that he was going to scream. If anybody heard, they would come running. Everything that had transpired in the last few days made itself manifest in his respiration. Claws raked against stone like chalk against a chalkboard.
Vincent sank his teeth into the synthetic fabric, tasting the acrid odor of sweat with a tinge of iron. His human blood, invisible against black threads. The scream came out as a muffled hum, vibrating into the jacket. Then it faded into a hiss, which in turned transformed into a four-lettered profanity as Vincent pulled the jacket from his maw. For a while, he did nothing but lay against the hard stone, picking out the subtle trickle the column created as it sank into the floor.
“You have earned my belief, Vincent Cordell.”
For fuck's sake, he had not realized how much he had longed to hear those words. From the moment he had arrived, he had been fighting with the disbelief of these creatures. He had not recognized his need for just one of them to believe. Now that the need was fulfilled, he felt waves crashing, surges of both relief, now that somebody finally seemed to take his side, and rage that he was dragged up and scrutinized like an animal. That need was humiliating.
He needed to laugh at this world, make fun of it. He didn't need the sympathy of these creatures. He trembled in the darkness where nobody could see him and let it all loose. Holy cow I'm a wreck, he thought. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed before he regained control. Then he began to laugh at the absurd situation, shoulders heaving as his throat whistled.
“You gotta get a hold of yourself man,” he said to himself, his voice resonating off the curved walls. “Thal’rin’s going to come back and find you in here having a full-on meltdown. What if he tried to do mouth to mouth CPR?”
“Who the heck are you and why the hell would Thal'rin give me CPR for a meltdown?” Vincent asked himself, as if carrying on a ridiculous two-part conversation.
“I am you,” he answered melodramatically, “our schizophrenia has been cured, so I'm compensating for it by acting crazy.”
“Oh, that makes sense–”
“Quiet!” he said with exaggerated urgency. “Get your ass up before Thal'rin returns and performs mouth to mouth resuscitation! He's going to do it and it's going to be disgusting! Hurry, get up! Don't let that happen!”
Laughing quietly but feeling weary, he stood up until he felt the top of his head smack something hard. He dropped a couple of profanities and braced himself for the incoming pain. But the agony never came because the horns that grew from his skull took a majority of the blow. Apparently, there had been a shelf above his head when he had tried to stand. Something fell to the ground and hit his foot. He knelt down and felt around until his hands closed around something. It moved in his palm. Swearing, he immediately dropped it.
“What the...” he muttered, standing absolutely still.
In his mind’s eye he envisioned a crustacean or an arachnid skittering across the floor in the dark. But he heard no scuttling of feet.
Cautiously, he prodded the unknown object with a claw. Then he picked it up, waiting to be pinched or bitten. Illuminations began to spread along his arm just as they did when he wore the thumahl. Stars, nebulae, and constellations winked into existence all across his body, their light bright enough to expose the thing he held. It was not a creature at all but a small cluster of blue crystals protruding from a rock.
As he was looking at them, they all underwent a metamorphosis. They retracted into stone until they were barely more than nubs. Then the process reversed, and the crystals began to grow and splinter, as if he were witnessing a time lapse of their formation. When they reached their peak, they began their retreat into the rock again.
“Huh.” he muttered. Then he saw the mirror.
Vincent hadn’t noticed it when he entered the chamber, but now he saw his own reflection staring back at him. Magenta irises floated among unknown cosmos, his snout bending spacetime. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached behind his back and undid the loops that secured the shirt to his chest. The garment came loose and hung off his shoulders.
Reflected back at him was an elaborate, lambent projection frozen on his form. Stars and astral bodies coalesced to form nebulae and distant clusters along his neck and shoulders. It wasn’t just interpretation; the markings were unmistakably “designed” by some hand to depict such things.
But it was the feature in the center of his chest that immediately drew his attention. It sat among the beautiful cosmos like an anomaly, distorting their images with its gravitational lensing. It stretched them beyond recognition until they became lines that encircled a lopsided void. Although it lacked an accretion disk, Vincent instantly recognized the object.
Under the right conditions, this was the fate of a star when it reached the end of its life. It was an object whose gravity is so great, not even light can escape its pull. Like a centerpiece to which all the astral bodies seemed to complement, a singularity resided in the center of his chest, a gaping black hole that stretched over the exact spot where the deer antler had impaled him.