by Wilf Jones
‘And so yes, in the first years of exile there were many who looked for a way to be free of it. And they were supported in this by their King, their God. The Song explains that Ah’remmon had long sought return to the Earth, had long worked to cast out his brother and create a New Kingdom for himself. The Song suggests that if a way could be found for the Exiles to return to Earnor, then surely the Dark God could follow. The tragedy is, of course, that there was indeed a way to be found. There were weaknesses in the earth that worsened with time. It needed only the use of power and the labour of man to widen and mine these weaknesses for any who wished to pass. The introduction to the Song doesn’t say how many lives of men were used in the making of this escape, and little enough about the Black Wizards in exile who made it possible, but it is a certainty that one or more passages were eventually opened. We’re told that while the wandering peoples of Earnor were still few in number and scattered, the armies of Kyzylkum, in their multitude, broke through the last barriers between our worlds and bore down upon the virgin lands of Asteranor.
‘If only the Introduction were not so brief. The next section mentions almost glibly that Ohr’mazd would not, could not permit this ‘Incursion’. ‘With his left hand’ it says, ‘the Bright God reached beyond the world, opening the Gates of Time; he released for the succour of mankind the Fierce Guardians of the Earth.’ There’s no name given for these creatures but they must have had a fearsome strength. They ‘fell upon and utterly consumed’ all of the exiled already come onto the plains. And then: ‘With his right hand,’ we’re told, ‘and with the strength of The Father running in him’ Ohr’mazd ‘put a force upon the Earth that raised up the mountains, rank on rank, to deny all passage and so banish the servants of Ah’remmon once more. The Heights then stood between, and the whole land of Kyzylkum was sundered from the free earth, for the days of the ending were not yet come.’
‘A few words only to describe something that must have been terrible, incredible to behold. Tremendous forces piled up the mountains to dizzying heights and crushed the hope of escape for all the Exiled that remained in Kyzylkum. That is the cataclysm remembered by the Wandering People but denied by the scholars of our age: the making of the Dedicae at the hand of Ohr’mazd.’
Seama paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, took a sip of water and then gathered together the pages of the Song. ‘Well there you have it, fellow councillors, a complete history of this world right up to the date of the history you already know. Does anyone have questions?’
‘Well, just the one, Seama,’ said Lord Gumb who had listened in silence all morning with something of a glazed look in his eyes, ‘It’s nice to get a clear picture and all that, and I daresay it makes quite a tale, but, you’ll forgive me for asking, what the bletherin’ hell does it all mean?’
Seama almost laughed. He thought he’d made it as plain as a pikestaff. ‘It all means, Lord Gumb, that we are in trouble. Tarangananda Uh Bib has had a full thirty years to open up a way into Kyzylkum and to engineer passage out again. It means that Uh Bib’s paymaster and the source of his new power is the Dark God himself. What it means is that, even as we sit here talking, the Exiled are coming again to recover what they have lost, and I do not think they will be coming in friendship.
‘And yes, if they can make the crossing…’
MONSTERS
Castle Ayer 3057.8.8
Goggalog – Human in form though of diminutive stature, male reaching a maximum of fourteen palms, with attenuated arms and long digits. The face is narrow, the seat of the eyes hollow. A skin pallor much like red veined white marble. Without the advantage of any sense of society, feral and solitary and naked to the elements, it commonly haunts the northern reaches of Oxitor Ulta, occasionally found to have crossed the land bridge to threaten the nether lands of the Tetra Ka. Seemingly weak in limb and mind, the goggalog yet carries a fearsome reputation. Avoid contact. Deceptively quick to attack, the grip, sufficient to kill in its own right, carries a deadly shock that will stop the heart of a grown man. As like to prey upon its own kind as any other, but an inefficient carnivore: with a small mouth the goggalog might need several weeks to consume any large prey, apparently unconcerned by fouling of the meat through time. A lazy predator, hunting only when there is need, confident in its power and without natural enemies unless it were mankind. In this regard it has become wary of archery and is quick to flee when pressed.’
Mador pushed the book away, upsetting a glass of water all over the table in the process.
‘Majesty!’
The librarian rushed to the table desperate to rescue his precious texts. Mador reached for the napkin that had accompanied his breakfast and started to mop at the mess.
‘No need, sire. Let me.’
Mador gave up the napkin readily enough. He got out of his chair to give the librarian more room.
‘Why have we nothing with an index?’
‘Ahm, there is an index of names, sire.’ The librarian with his books now safe from the water, carefully turned the heavy pages of the bestiary Mador had just abandoned. ‘As you can see each entry lists page numbers, there is a guide to pronunciation—’
‘Where’s the use in that? What I want to do is look up ‘eats human hearts’ and get a list of likely candidates.’
‘A concordance.’
‘A what?’
‘Concordance, sire: a different sort of index that lists themes common to diverse entries.’
‘That’s more like it. Bring me one like that.’
‘Ahm, to my knowledge, sire, there is no such bestiary outside Errensea.’ The librarian looked most uncomfortable. ‘I could spend some time researching the topic if you gave me more detail or perhaps speak to my sister Grek. She—’
Mador shook his head. ‘I need answers now, Philemon, not in a year’s time.’
‘No doubt, sire, many of your predecessors have said as much.’
Mador could not help smiling at that one. ‘A just rebuke, Philemon, and neatly delivered. I’ll write the order of commission. Get me a concordance even if it does take a year.’
Philemon also allowed himself a smile. ‘Thank you, sire. Was ahm, was there anything else?’
‘You mean anything else I want you to look up?’
‘Or indeed commission. There are any number of serious gaps in our armoury of knowledge.’
‘Are there? I thought we had the best library on the mainland.’
‘One of the best, sire. However there is always room for improvement.’
‘Indeed there is. So, why don’t you write me a list and I will consider the costs. But meanwhile find me something with claws and teeth that eats only major organs and find out how to kill it.’
‘I will have the clerks look into the matter at once, Your Majesty.’
“Come to me as soon as you have news, wherever I am.”
As the Librarian prepared to leave, the door to the snug opened and the Chamberlain came in with his ledger. The two servants nodded as they passed but, of course, said nothing to each other.
‘Sire, it is time for your morning meetings. The Committee of the Guard will be first – you called them to discuss the appointment of a new captain. Then there is the Captain of the Watch – you wished to review the day’s arrangements. After that I have scheduled-in Isolde Robarn with her report and after that Gerald Robarn with the options for—’
‘Yes, yes, yes, Abram. I am not so scatter-brained that I forget my own plans for the day. But the order is wrong. Get me the Captain of the Watch first and then the Committee. As for the Robarns, the elder should have precedence: ask him to attend me at 11.00 hours; Isolde’s excuses can wait. Now, where are we?’
‘I’ve had a table set up in The Presence, Sire, and the room placed off-limits to everyone other than the delegates. The guard on both doors has been
doubled.’
‘Treble it. And what of the spells: any sign of them today? I don’t want the guards made useless.’
‘Well, we could move the guards into The Presence, Sire.’
‘No, no. The meetings will be in private. No guards, no servants. Just make sure everyone is awake and ready for anything.’
‘The doorward, Anders Belori, will have duty but I will myself have the point forcibly made. Are you sure, Sire, about the servants? There is food and drink ordered. Will it not be a distraction to be concerning yourself—’
‘I can pour my own water, Abram. But perhaps you’re right. Very well, ask ‘Rian to attend us – apologize to her for me, but I must have people I can trust. Today of all days.’
‘Yes, sire, I’m sure she’ll understand.’ The Chamberlain paused a moment and Mador wondered what was coming. ‘And what of messengers, sire?’
‘Well have them report to you. Anything personal, if written, claim and pass on to me at luncheon; if oral then hear it – I’ll give you a sealed order. Any general news can wait until the end of the day. Unless it has bearing of course.’
The Chamberlain cleared his throat.
‘There was some news, just before I came up.’
Mador took a deep breath. He just knew it wouldn’t be good news.
‘Tell me then.’
‘It was another killing. In his own bedroom, sire, an horrific scene.’
‘Who?’
‘Robben Marque, your Chief Constable. His wife was killed also.’
‘In his bedroom?’ Mador’s words came out rather weakly.
‘Yes, sire.’
The Chief Constable had a suite of rooms in the North West Tower of the Curtain. The monster, it seemed, had penetrated the castle.
Mador stood motionless for just a moment before marching to the door. He was not dithering. He was pulling himself together. If there was to be a fight he would be ready for it, whoever, or whatever the opponent.
‘Presence!’ he threw over his shoulder as he went, ‘Now!’
Astoril 3057.8.8
The smile worn on the face of Garaid Barbossa was not pleasant, reminding all who saw it of the rictus of death, and the dark staring eyes spoke of some terrible and haunted grief, but the intelligence behind that smile and those eyes was mostly unaware of anything amiss. Admittedly he had found that his dealings today, as he struggled to organise an efficient line of communication between Astoril and Ayer, had been hampered by a certain reserve displayed by the Astorian guardsmen allocated to the mission. Hampered too by his inability to completely control Garaid’s thoughts or wantonly plunder Garaid’s memory. It was as if the man had somehow managed to lock down anything he thought useful. Most useful would have been a list of the Partian contacts Zaras would need to complete his task. There had been surprise that this man, appointed by Lord Seama at King Sirl’s behest, seemed so unprepared for his duties. But Zaras was not too put out by his failings. He was intelligent enough to find a way through and quick to access the knowledge of those under his command. The only part of it that disturbed him was that he hadn’t expected any resistance at all from his victim. That Garaid could, by a deliberate act of will, control even the smallest part of his own mind was not acceptable and was not safe.
The big man navigated the avenues of Astoril oblivious to the crowds that parted in panic before him; he failed to hear the muttered concerns in his wake. He strode on with more vigour than could possibly be normal, he seemed unconcerned by the notion of direction or of destination or of time, he might wheel face about at the end of a street and march back the way he had come, and scatter the people once more, or he might not.
Zaras was in two minds. It was surely important for him to get to this meeting of Seama’s, to find out what they knew and what they did not. Old Harry would expect it. But the urge to do his Master’s bidding was not nearly as strong as other urges and one in particular. The power of life was thrilling through him. The virility of life!
For the first week after he had made the leap from his old carcass into Garaid’s fine strong body Zaras had been so completely caught up in the struggle for supremacy that he’d found precious little peace in which to enjoy the change. It was only as they journeyed to Astoril after the battle at Moreda that he found his eyes and his thoughts resting upon the dark hair and tight body of Sigrid jogging along just ahead, only then that he felt the first stirrings of something long missed. And the mental urge became married to something entirely more satisfying: physical ability.
That Sigrid was the object of his attention was no surprise, but he knew he ought to be careful as far as that one was concerned. From what he’d seen so far she would be a troublesome target, far too fast with those swords of hers. Tied-down she might be more amenable even if possibly a little less fun. Just a matter of making sure the Aegardean wasn’t around. He’d considered the matter at some length, lingered on the details, but the opportunity hadn’t come.
What did that matter now! He was back in Astoril and here he’d find opportunities aplenty and maybe even a few closer to his preference. And that was what he was doing pacing the rubble strewn streets: looking for a chance.
Tumboll 3057.8.8
They were egging each other on to do the deed. The two biggest boys homed in on the girl. It was a strange language they used but Hadradag could understand the meaning. She was telling the boys that they were cowards and the boys were saying to her ‘Do it. You think you’re hard. Go on. You want to stay in our gang, you have to.’ The interesting thing was that the girl was clearly the bravest of the lot of them. It was often the case. The smallest have to risk more to prove themselves. And that was why he was here.
Hadradag lay quite still watching them through his closed eyelids. He was happy for them to think he was asleep. Happy to observe these children of men. It was a new experience. The girl stooped and looked for a good stone: not too heavy, not too light, and when she found it she smiled. It was an ‘I’ll show you’ smile. Her gang fell silent as she moved a couple of paces closer weighing the stone in her hand, judging the distance. It was a pity this scene was coming to an end. They were so small and yet all the emotions, the rivalries, the bravado, the courage he might expect from his own kind were clearly present. Perhaps there was more to mankind than he had thought.
The girl paused. She was right to do so. There was a difference between deciding to venture something and actually doing it. The decision might acknowledge there may be danger, the deed itself will bring the danger full on. But she set her chin. She raised her arm. She threw.
Hadradag’s head moved so fast that he had caught the stone on his tongue and spat it out a hundred feet into the air before any of the children began to run. But they ran fast enough when his head swung round to face them. All except the girl who was frozen to the spot. He wondered at that. Was it fear? Amazement? Acceptance of defeat? Her hands curled into fists. Defiance. He flattened his long neck so that his head came down to her level ten feet from where she stood. And then opened his eyes.
The girl gasped. It was probably the incandescence that surprised her though he had been told many times that his eyes were particularly beautiful. He thought to her: you are a fine cub, you have great courage and I am proud to have met you and then he breathed gently upon her, taking great care to make that breath just warm. The girl shivered in pleasure and she smiled. It was an excited smile. It was a thank-you smile. Hadradag smiled too but probably she could not tell.
‘Playing with your food, Hadradag? She’s hardly more than a mouthful.’
The girl’s smile disappeared and fear overcame her at last.
Run little one, Hadradag thought, you are not safe here. Run!
She ran.
‘Not hungry, then?’
Hadradag favoured his questioner with that wondrous g
aze but the man seemed unaffected by it.
You are not amusing, Uh Bib. You are insolent. And yet still I do your bidding. This is a great mystery to me.
He could not decide what to do with the wizard. Some of the time he wanted to kill him quickly but there were many moments when he contemplated something much more lingering.
‘Let us not say you do my bidding: there is reward to be gained from our collaboration. If you can assist me to my ends then I will help you achieve yours.’
So you say. Who is that, skulking by the castle wall?
The wizard glanced over his shoulder.
‘I asked him to wait until you consented to see him. He is known as the Necromancer, Lord of this island. May he approach?’
To what end?
‘A matter of courtesy to you, that is all.’
Then no. I have already had the pleasure of more worthy acquaintance: it is sufficient that he can witness my glory from the shadows.
‘I can never tell when you are joking.’
I care nothing for your entertainment, wizard, only for my own. When will we leave this place?
‘That is why I have come. We are needed in Aegarde. Athoff is losing his way; his army is wavering. I need to stir them up.’
Hadradag sprang to his feet, arched his long back, shook out his wings and belched a great gout of flame up into the sky. The fallout from it set fire to several trees.
