The Golden Shield of IBF

by Jerry Ahern; Sharon Ahern

  Swan did. “What drove Mir to do what he did is unclear, simply because he was a complex person in a complex situation. But whatever else compelled him to change things in Creath, there was an immediate cause.”

  Garrison realized what she meant. If someone asked, for example, what started World War I, the classic—wrong—history test answer was the assassination of Archduke Francis Ferdinand. The actual cause traced back at least to the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, 1914’s assassination in Sarajevo the immediate cause only.

  Erg’Ran told Garrison, “Mir witnessed a duel, a fight to the death between the two most powerful sorceresses then living. The fight raged on and on between the two women, past many sunrises and sunsets, across vast distances. Many of those who had magic, female and male alike, were able to transport themselves out of harm’s way. But countless numbers of ordinary mortals were consumed in the flames, cast into the vast crevices ripped across the ground, devoured by the beasts the two sorceresses created. Mir, despite his magic, which was well-developed for a male, was unable to stop them.”

  “Perhaps,” Swan interjected, “if it hadn’t been for that terrible time, well, perhaps those who became the K’Ur’Mir would not have listened to him, and things might have gone on as they were until we all eventually were destroyed.”

  “So there was a war,” Garrison reasoned aloud, “but fought with magic so terrible that the sheer body count forced people to come to their senses.”

  “They followed Mir,” Swan told him.

  “What happened to the two sorceresses?”

  Erg’Ran gestured toward the two moons.

  Garrison looked at them, then at Erg’Ran, then at Swan. “Come on, guys! I may be the Federal flat-foot from Earth, and my SAT scores didn’t go into the record books, but you expect me to believe—to believe— to believe—that!” Garrison stabbed his finger in the direction of the two moons.

  “As the war progressed, and the ranks of the dead grew and grew,” Swan recounted, “Mir sought out the most magically endowed of Creath. He reasoned with them, making them realize that neither of the warring sorceresses would win before the entire world was destroyed. But they could be defeated.”

  Garrison looked at Erg’Ran. “He did the same thing that you did when the aura was placed around the summer palace.”

  “Of course, Champion! Actually, I did the same thing which Mir did. It was his idea; I only copied it.”

  “So, Mir gets all the other people with magic to concentrate their powers on the two sorceresses. But don’t give me this two moons stuff, guys.”

  “It’s true, Al’An!” Swan insisted.

  “How do you do that!? I mean, I’ve seen a lot of what I’d call impossible stuff since you brought me here, but how could anybody do—do that!” And, Garrison gestured again toward the two moons.

  As if she were a teacher explaining a science experiment to some incredibly dense student, Swan explained, “It’s really not that difficult, Al’An.”

  “You telling me that you could do that?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to. And I haven’t the power to do such a thing to someone whose magic is as strong or stronger than mine. What Mir did was to combine the magical energies of those first K’Ur’Mir so that it didn’t matter that the two warring sorceresses were individually unrivaled in their powers.”

  “It was a marvelous object lesson, too,” Erg’Ran observed. “Had the warring sorceresses ceased in their attempts to destroy each other, their powers combined would almost certainly have been greater than those of all the rest of those who chose to follow Mir. In essence, they destroyed themselves with their hatred.”

  Garrison took a cigarette from his continually full pack and Swan lit it. “So how do you turn someone into a moon?”

  “Mir knew,” Swan said, “that in order to defeat the warring sorceresses it would be necessary to catch them off guard, to strike without warning. Once those he’d convinced to aid him struck, it would be imperative that the warring sorceresses could not retaliate. The only logical choice, Al’An, was to turn the women to stone.”

  “So, poof! They turn into stone?”

  “What is poof? Is it like holy shit?”

  “No. Never mind about poof. How do you turn somebody to stone?”

  Swan seemed to be pondering something, then told him, “Place your cigarette on the deck a little distance away from your feet, Al’An.”

  “Should I put it out first?”

  “There won’t be time enough for it to cause a fire.”

  “All right.” Garrison set his cigarette on the deck.

  Almost immediately, the glowing tip of his cigarette began to lose its color, its fire. The upward curling smoke seemed to pause.

  Erg’Ran murmured, “Oh, very good!”

  There were constant references by Swan and others to magical energy in the air, so it seemed oddly logical to Alan Garrison that the smoke itself was the first to begin to transform into stone, but in the blink of an eye the cigarette itself was stone as well. “After the object becomes stone,” Swan said in a low, even voice, as if she were whispering to herself, “the object can then be levitated.” The cigarette, smoke and all, seemed to shudder, then began to rise, floating upward to a level about even with Garrison’s eyes. “In the case of the two sorceresses, because of their size as compared to your cigarette, it might have taken a few eyeblinks longer, Al’An.” The cigarette just hung there. Tiny pinpoints of light, visible only because of the darkness around them, streaked toward the cigarette, moving at incredible speeds. Barely perceptible at first, the cigarette grew noticeably larger, beginning to lose its shape. “Then, mass is added to it, as I am doing now.” Gradually, the cigarette lost all of its identity, becoming spherical. “In order to change something or someone to stone, it isn’t necessary, of course, to alter the shape by adding mass. In the case of the sorceresses, Mir or the others with him must have planned to have them transform into the two moons from the very first. Nor, of course, Al’An, does one have to levitate the object or objects. I’m just demonstrating how I imagine that it was probably done.”

  “Thank you, professor,” Garrison smiled.

  Swan paused a moment, evidently determining the word’s meaning, then blew him a kiss. “And then,” Swan went on, “it was merely a matter of adding more and more mass, placing the two moons in the sky as they should be,” and the stone ball that was once a cigarette rose slowly, steadily upward, floating over the stern rail, ascending until it was almost too distant to be seen, then seeming to descend rapidly. Garrison realized that the distance between the sphere and the water was not changing, that the sphere’s size was increasing instead. It was about the size of a man’s basketball or the first Soviet Sputnik when Swan said, “I think that’s large enough to illustrate how it was done, Al’An.”

  “Now what?”

  “I can’t turn it back into your cigarette. I could transform the stone into a piece of stone in the size and shape of your cigarette, or even turn it into a real cigarette, but it wouldn’t be the same cigarette. That is gone forever.”

  “So the two sorceresses,” Garrison deduced, “aren’t imprisoned inside the moons; they ceased to exist.”

  “Yes. And although Mir did not foresee the cyclonic waves which would form when the two moons crossed paths in the sky—as if, somehow, the sorceresses were still capable of creating a destructive force—it was wise that he did what he did,” Swan told him.

  Erg’Ran amplified. “Each night, since the coming of Mir, women and men have looked into the sky, known that the two moons were there, eternal reminders of the fragility of life and how the power of good overcame the power of evil.”

  “Evidently, Eran isn’t much into moon watching,” Garrison voiced, realizing how sarcastic his words sounded only after he said them.

  “Yes,” Erg’Ran agreed, the word drawn out so slowly that it was as if it had three syllables rather than one.

  Swan swept her left hand
gracefully toward the still floating sphere, and it augered downward into the water, making a great splash. Swan looked at Erg’Ran and urged, “Tell me the rest now, the rest of what happened. Please?”

  Erg’Ran fumbled with his pipe, and in the next instant it was packed and lit by Swan’s magic.

  Garrison took another cigarette from his pack—the pack was full again—and Swan lit it, too. He sipped at his wine and smiled. Erg’Ran spoke. “My sister murdered my mother with magic when my mother forbade her to continue the translations from the tablets. Consider this, Champion,” Erg’Ran digressed. “Our mother was the most powerful magic maker in Creath. Yet merely by translating the tablets, essentially just saying the words inscribed there, Eran was powerful enough—forgive me for being so blunt, Enchantress—Your mother was powerful enough to cause our mother’s heart to explode within her chest!”

  Swan visibly shivered. Garrison folded her in his arm once again.

  “And Eran discovered the secret to even greater power. Yet she was unable to either obtain or exercise that power at the time, and that enraged her. But the possession of that power, that continually renewing source of magical energy, was her goal. Eran never lost sight of it until it was hers.

  “My father and I reached the shore, still ignorant of what had transpired between my mother and sister. We united with our warriors and intercepted the Gle’Ur’Gya chieftain and his men when they were about to return to their ship with their plunder.

  “Ag’Riig was a fierce warrior and a talented tactician. The Gle’Ur’Gya fought bravely. Numerically, we were well matched, and both sides had endured similar journeys to arrive at the battlefield there along the shore. We may pass the site as we sail tomorrow.

  “Many arrows were fired in fearsome volleys at the moment when the two forces initially sighted one another,” Erg’Ran continued. “I was wounded, but only a graze along my thigh. I used my magic to stem the bleeding and was beside my father again in a matter of eyeblinks.

  “The Gle’Ur’Gya had surprised us. Both forces really stumbled upon the other. Because of that, the Gle’Ur’Gya had the higher ground. They rained arrows upon us with great accuracy; and, although we responded in kind, they had the advantage. Only a small number of the Gle’Ur’Gya were ahorse, and in that we found our own advantage.

  “My father broke our force in two,” Erg’Ran enthused, “and honored me by placing me second in command of one of the elements, while he personally led the other. It was my company’s lot to fight our way down the beach and past the Gle’Ur’Gya position on the ground above, then find what way we could to reach the higher ground and harass them from behind, thus diverting a substantial portion of their force while my father led the main body in an assault against their position.”

  “We call that an envelopment,” Garrison supplied.

  “An envelopment,” Erg’Ran echoed. “Yes. A good word for it.”

  “Then what happened?” Swan asked, caught up in the story.

  “As I said, Ag’Riig was a fine tactician. He must have apprehended almost immediately that an, an envelopment was our intent. He dispatched a small body of his force to parallel the unit with which I rode, then position themselves to deny us access to the high ground. We didn’t know this, of course.

  “When our company had traveled fifty lancethrows or so, the leader spied a narrow channel heading through the sand and rock and toward the higher ground. Without dispatching anyone to scout for enemy archers, he wheeled the company toward the channel. The first volley fired by the Gle’Ur’Gya took him out of the saddle with an arrow through his throat. He had no magic, and no one with magic was able to reach him in time to stop the bleeding. He was dead by the time I’d swung down from the saddle.

  “His death, of course, meant that I had command of the company. I had no experience as a leader, and none as a warrior. Hoping that the courage of Mir would guide me, I split my company into three elements. The first I dispatched still further along the beach, to find another way of reaching the high ground. The second I set to providing almost continuous volleys of arrows against the Gle’Ur’Gya’s position above us. The third I led myself. Armed with pikes, a few crossbows, but mainly with swords and our shields, we stormed along the near side of the channel on foot.

  “The Gle’Ur’Gya had not expected this, and the Gle’Ur’Gya warrior archers from the far side of the channel had gone on in pursuit of my maneuvering element which I’d sent along the beach.

  “The fighting was fierce,” Erg’Ran continued, “and I bloodied steel for the first time there amid the dunes. We took the high ground. Immediately, I dispatched archers to pursue the Gle’Ur’Gya who had gone to intercept my maneuvering element. With the very warriors who had accompanied me in the charge along the channel to the high ground, I took horse for the main body of Gle’Ur’Gya against whom my father would lead his warriors in less time than I cared to consider.”

  Erg’Ran’s pipe went out, but Swan had it going again before Erg’Ran took notice of it. “We literally stumbled upon the rear guard Ag’Riig had established for just such a contingency. The fighting was nothing like I had imagined it would be. My hands became so sticky with blood, I could barely grip my sword’s hilt. Both sides fought with the unremitting ferocity of tree demons, as if we spilled blood for blood’s sake alone.

  “My men acquitted themselves well, extraordinarily so. Ag’Riig was forced to divert some of his men from defense against my father’s impending attack in order to hold us in check.

  “It was then that my maneuver element and warrior archers joined us. We gave the agreed upon signal—a fiery arrow, then two more shot skyward after it—and my father’s force began their assault. Ag’Riig held his ground, and when my father reached his position, the two men both ordered a cessation in the fighting, for all but themselves.

  “My father’s sword was a wondrous blade,” Erg’Ran confided to them, “and I have never seen its like to this day. It had a single edge, the blade itself curved ever so subtly. Its hilt would easily accommodate two hands, but just as easily lent itself to use with but a single hand. The guard, very elaborately engraved in relief, was like a small shield, completely encircling the hilt.

  “Ag’Riig’s sword was almost equally magnificent, but of a different style and longer by several spans. My father and the Gle’Ur’Gya chieftain faced off and fought. The sun was nearly setting when they began their duel, and darkness was upon us in full measure when it ended, fires lit there on the high ground so that my father and Ag’Riig could see.

  “Both were exhausted. When the firelight caught their faces, their expressions were grim, each knowing that the other swordsman could deal him death. They were an even match, you see. That is the most dangerous battle to endure, the most compelling to watch. Sparks flew in great showers as steel would contact steel. I’ve never seen such since. At last, my father’s sword cleaved the blade of Ag’Riig, but the Gle’Ur’Gya chieftain fought on with half a blade, Ag’Riig’s steel failing him but not his courage. My father offered to give quarter, or lend him another sword. Ag’Riig accepted neither.

  “My father was clearly about to triumph. I felt that my father would spare the Gle’Ur’Gya chieftain because of such bravery and gallantry. I was never to know.”

  “What happened?” Garrison asked, unable not to interrupt.

  “One of the Gle’Ur’Gya archers loosed an arrow. It pierced my father’s eye and into his brain. He was dead before he fell, and no magic could have saved him. We all stood there, motionless for an eyeblink. Then Ag’Riig flung his broken sword across the darkness and into the chest of the Gle’Ur’Gya archer who had dishonored him.

  Everyone had his blades drawn, arrows nocked, crossbows cocked. Ag’Riig shouted out, speaking well enough in our tongue that he was understood, proclaiming that there had been enough blood shed here. Kneeling beside my father’s body, I raised my voice and ordered that our warriors not be the first to renew the fighting. We did not clasp
hands, or make some vow or another. We were not friends, perhaps more closely bound than friends, bound in honor. Ag’Riig took his Gle’Ur’Gya and I took my men, he to his ship, I to tell my mother and sister the terrible events which had unfolded.

  “My father’s body borne on a litter, we made our way to the encampment near the monolith. We traveled in sufficient force to risk the wood once again, and we traversed it unmolested by the tree demons.

  “My heart was heavier than I thought then that it could ever be. But, upon reaching the encampment, I learned my mother’s fate. What could be done was done for the guards. Enraged beyond enduring, with my father’s sword I set out to find Eran. I have no idea if I would have killed her. As it was, I did not see her again until after you were born, Enchantress. I kept the sword for the day that I would avenge my mother.

  “Eran established herself with the witches, became their leader. Not long before your birth, Enchantress, she at last obtained the ultimate power which she had so long sought. It is then that she began the destruction of the K’Ur’Mir in earnest. Yet already Creath was in the grip of violence and evil unlike anything known since before the coming of Mir. Eran was determined to make Creath still worse. And she has done so.

  “Eran, whose curiosity was boundless, destroyed the person that once she was and nearly all of Creath as well. As you move against her, Enchantress, you must guard against the temptation which will present itself. You must use what magic needs be used in order to defeat Eran, then eschew its use, if you are strong enough. Eran has magic that no mortal or immortal was ever meant to know. In order to defeat Eran, you must learn this dark magic and then use it for purposes other than for which it was divined. Afterward, such magic must return to the darkness from whence it came.

  “If you defeat Eran,” Erg’Ran warned, “your greatest enemy will be yourself, Enchantress. Never forget that.”

  “Three questions, please,” Alan Garrison requested.

  “The first question, Champion?”

  “The sword, your father’s sword. You have it with you?”