The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Best meal since the war started,’ Killop said, putting down a duck bone, and picking up a mug of cold lager. ‘And it’s a braw night as well.’ He looked up to see the seven stars shining in the dark sky, one for each of the names of Pyre. The fire crackled and roared its warmth, keeping away the mountain chill.

  ‘Aye,’ Kallie said. ‘If it wasn’t for Kalayne, I think I’d like to stay here.’

  Conal had been lumbered with the duty of making sure everyone had enough to drink, trailing around with a large jug. Kalayne seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of lager, kept submerged in the glade’s pool. Killop watched as he unstoppered another jug and gestured to Conal to collect it.

  ‘I think he’s trying to get us drunk,’ he said.

  ‘Or he just likes watching Conal,’ Kallie replied.

  ‘Time was,’ Kalayne said aloud, standing, holding a mug, ‘time is, and time will be.’ Everyone grew quiet, watching him. ‘Time for all tonight, but first we must begin with the past. To know who we are, and who we will become, we must understand where we came from.’

  He stared at them, scanning their faces. ‘You,’ he said, pointing. ‘Kylon, I believe.’

  Kylon nodded, his face giving nothing away.

  ‘You shall tell us the old telling, the auld tell. I know you know it. We all know it. Heard at our mother’s knee for hundreds and hundreds of years, but when did any of you last hear it spoken aloud? When did any of you last think about what it meant? Kylon, you know it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then tell us the auld tell.’

  Kylon looked down, thinking. He stood, and rested a foot up on a tree stump, a mug in his left hand.

  ‘Brothers and sisters of Kell,’ he said, his voice clear, ‘take a drink on each “aye”, if you please.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, and began.

  The land was young, aye the land was green,

  And the hundred clans lived on the land in peace,

  And the fertile earth was tilled and sown,

  And the stone warriors feasted and sang,

  And their clear-eyed children played and ran,

  And the gods were good, aye the gods were kind,

  And the land was blessed, aye the land was fine.

  And the land it was ruled,

  The Stone Twins ruled the land,

  And the Stone Twins rule was wise,

  And the Stone Twins rule was strong,

  Aye, it was fair, and it was just.

  And the gods glanced down,

  One said, this land I claim,

  Another, this land I claim,

  And war enflamed the gods,

  Aye the gods knew war.

  And the gods learned of death,

  And the gods killed, aye the gods killed.

  The gods killed, and the land wept.

  Aye the great land wept, the great land shuddered,

  And it groaned and broke,

  And it shattered and split,

  Aye, the unknowable ocean welcomed

  The fall of the land.

  And the fire mountains roared,

  And the great land slid,

  And the unknowable ocean crashed

  Into us and over us and through us,

  Aye it drowned us.

  But the fire god prevailed, aye the true god prevailed,

  And his faithful clans, the Kell, the Lach, the Brig, the Domm,

  True servants of the true fire god,

  And the others, the betrayers,

  Aye they were drowned,

  Aye they were slain,

  Aye their land lies beneath the unknowable ocean.

  But we remain,

  True servants of the true fire god,

  Forever his anger to assuage,

  And his name to praise forever, aye.

  Kylon sat.

  ‘A fine voice, young man,’ Kalayne said, ‘though I’d swear there were more “ands” and fewer “ayes” in the version I’m used to.’

  Klannit snorted. ‘Did we come here to listen to childish rhymes?’

  ‘Ha!’ Kalayne said. ‘It may be a childish rhyme now, but once it was taken very seriously. The fire god Pyre was worshipped fervently in these lands for generations, and now he is a nothing but a story to frighten the children with. Look now, the Rahain have come in terrible force to our lands, the faithful lands of those chosen clans, and where is Pyre? Is he coming to our rescue? Will he strike down our enemy? No! He hasn’t rumbled or as much as burped or farted in a hundred years!’ There were cries of ‘bullshit!’ and ‘I believe!’ Kalayne continued, ignoring them. ‘Is he waiting until the lizards fill the land before he erupts and kills us all?’

  The mood turned angry. Most Kell weren’t overtly religious, but they didn’t like their god mocked.

  Killop believed that the old tales were that, old tales, but he also believed that Pyre was real, that the fire god dwelt in the great mountain at the foot of the peninsula, at the southernmost tip where Lach met Domm. He didn’t question it. Keira’s powers must come from somewhere. His too.

  ‘When will he intervene?’ Kalayne cried. ‘He won’t. He’s the most useless god in the history of the world. I call upon him to strike me down right now, to prove he isn’t a cowardly wee shitebag. To prove he even exists! Which he doesn’t!’

  He sat down next to the chief and smiled, watching the furious group of Kell shout and curse. Klannit had to get up to push back Kai and Kyleen, who were pointing and waving their fists at the old man, who sat chuckling. Calum was also enraged, and was standing, shouting, his face red with fury.

  Kalayne chuckled. ‘Now I’m entertained.’

  Keira turned to her brother. ‘This stuff doesn’t bother me,’ she said. ‘In fact, I think I agree with the old fucker.’

  Kalayne looked over and smiled. Not a leer, but a knowing smile of an understanding between them.

  ‘Nothing quite like riling up the faithful,’ Kalayne said, getting up. ‘Let’s adjourn inside, Chief, to talk about the now. Bring along a few for company. Just a few, mind, though please include Kylon and that redhead, the one sitting next to the man-bear. Och aye.’ He walked off into the nearest cave entrance.

  ‘Kallie,’ the chief said, once he had gone. ‘I think he means you. Sorry.’

  ‘You’re coming with me, man-bear,’ she said to Killop as she got up. ‘I might need you to hold me back.’

  ‘Alright if I stay here, Chief?’ Klannit said. ‘Might need to calm this lot down.’

  The chief nodded, then gestured to Keira and Kylon. Kalinda was standing ready, while Lana shook her head, her arms crossed.

  The six of them walked over to the cave, and stepped inside. It was lit by small torches pinned to the walls. The floors and walls were smooth, carved by a thousand years of flowing water. The cave tunnel went right under the heart of the waterfall, and they could hear its booming roar above them. The cave opened up to the left, where a small chamber had been cut into the rock. It was furnished with a table, chairs, a few pallet beds, and on the walls were several mildewed hangings.

  There was a fireplace in one wall, which had a chimney cut into the rock above, up which flames and smoke sped and flickered. The fire was the room’s main illumination, though there was a small lamp in the corner, on a table where untidy piles of books and scrolls sat.

  Kalayne was sitting by the fire, pouring himself a drink.

  ‘Now that you’ve amused yourself,’ the chief said. ‘Can we talk about what you’ve seen?’

  ‘We’ll get to that,’ he said. ‘Whisky?’ He put the jug down on a low table next to a collection of cups. ‘Please, help yourselves. And sit! Now, let’s take a look at who you’ve brought.’

  He stared at them.

  ‘Kalinda, aye, of course you’d be here. Kylon, maybe you’ll sing for me later. Keira. I know you, aye, I see you a lot. Ahh, the redhead. What’s your name?’

  ‘Kallie.’

  ‘Ahh, Kallie, and wait!
The man-bear! But does this mean, sweet Kallie… You and the man-bear?’ He shuddered and gulped and rubbed his crotch. ‘Oh well.’

  They shuffled forwards to take their seats, and there was an awkward pause, which the Kell filled by drinking whisky.

  ‘I have looked,’ Kalayne said, breaking the heavy silence, ‘but I don’t think you want to know what I’ve seen.’

  ‘We do,’ the chief said.

  ‘Judge that after you hear it, Chief. I saw you coming a few days past, knew with the invasion it was only a matter of time before you came. So I looked and looked for you. I looked so hard I nearly went mad for a day.’ His eyes bulged, and he took a large gulp of whisky.

  ‘The Rahain army in Southern Kell numbers over twenty thousand,’ he said. ‘Fifteen thousand have spent seven days laying waste to the lands around Meadowhall, which they now besiege. Across Kell fires burn and the land shakes. Thousands are fleeing the destruction, and the pass to Brig is filled with broken humanity.

  ‘Another five thousand Rahain are travelling north. They crossed the Lower River yesterday, on their way to Hiddenburn, which is now deserted, as the Kell army has left to defend Meadowhall. To the north, a force of ten thousand Rahain has blocked the pass. They do not approach the Kell fort there, presumably through fear of what you did to them last time. I guess they are waiting for the five thousand to seal the pass from the south, which they will reach in another day. Then they will sit and starve the Kell out.

  ‘Further to the north, twenty thousand Rahain soldiers, and thousands more civilians, scour and scrape the land. Any surviving Kell are carted off in chains to Rahain, which is beyond my sight. The Kell villages are no more. The Rahain have wiped them out of existence. Nothing to go home to. Nothing to go home for. At the farthest edge of Northern Kell, a new army of forty thousand fresh soldiers has just arrived, and are marching south as we sit here, drinking whisky, and chatting about the death of everything we know.

  ‘That is the now.’ He sat back and poured himself another whisky.

  ‘What must we do?’ the chief said, his face in anguish.

  ‘You can do nothing,’ Kalayne said. ‘You are defeated.’

  ‘But our allies, do they rally?’

  ‘They do. The Lach have mobilised their strength, and a force of seven thousand are preparing to march to your aid. The Brig have also mustered a few thousand, while the Domm are in the process of doing the same. It matters not. The Rahain will crush you all.’

  ‘Us, you mean,’ Keira frowned.

  ‘If you prefer,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve been an outcast so long I sometimes forget I’m one of you.’

  ‘There must be something we can do,’ Killop said.

  ‘Well, let’s see. You could pray to Pyre, but as we’ve already established, that seems to be of little use. The fire god is dying, or already dead, if he even existed in the first place. The true god sees all, and is angered, but is powerless to help you.’

  ‘The true god?’ Kalinda said.

  ‘Aye, Kalinda, the Creator. He sits and rages, I see his thoughts in my dreams. He will not forget the crimes of the Rahain against us, though we are but one of his peoples.’

  ‘Why have you never spoken of this before?’ she cried.

  Kalayne laughed. ‘What, tell someone who already thinks I’m mad that I hear the voice of a god in my head? No, I don’t think so. You would be better asking why I’m telling you now.’ He paused, and downed the remaining whisky in his mug. ‘Do we need another jug already?’ he said. ‘Thirsty Kell, drinking all my whisky! Never mind, There’s plenty more.’ He reached under his chair and pulled out a fresh jug, and poured himself another drink.

  ‘Where was I? Oh, aye, the Kell are as good as dead. And the other clans. Their hilltop villages, their narrow green farms, their songs of love and war, their language, food, the stories they tell their children, their clothes, the way the girls tie their hair, their drinking games, and their very names. The Rahain will put an end to it all. All is nothing, and all is for nothing. All the Kell have ever been, was for nothing.’

  A deep silence came over the room, while the fire flickered, and a tear went down Kallie’s cheek. The chief tried to speak. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Kylon.

  They turned to him.

  ‘You don’t know the future,’ he went on. ‘Of all the ways the threads of life could weave themselves, you have spoken of only one. I do not believe that your way will come to pass.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what you believe, you stupid child,’ Kalayne snorted. ‘Compared to the clans, the Rahain are without number, and their wealth and power are like the ocean next to your spoon of tears. Despite his anger towards the Rahain, even the Creator looks down on us as if we were mere insects, such is our worthlessness and helplessness next to him. Everything we do is futile.’

  ‘Nothing we do is futile,’ Kylon said. ‘Every life makes its own meaning, each person creates their own worth. We may be helpless now, but life itself is not helpless.’

  ‘We are helpless, because nothing we do is of any consequence.’

  ‘Not so,’ Kylon said, all eyes on him. ‘Every act touches upon another person. Think how it feels to know that someone loves you, or hates you. It has meaning and consequence.’

  ‘Not if these pathetic emotions are pointlessly repeated over and over, as endless generations live and die. No one learns, nothing changes.’

  ‘But our lives are only lived once, and that’s what gives them meaning.’

  Kalayne poured himself another whisky, and chuckled. ‘You know, it would be a pity for you to die, my boy. You should stay here, safe, with me.’ He looked around. ‘In fact, you should all stay. There’s plenty of room in the caves for everyone. I’ve got an unbelievable amount of alcohol stashed away, we could live out the end of the world drinking, and celebrating the joys of young, sweet flesh.’

  He sat back into his chair, smiling, and looked to be drifting off to sleep, his eyes closed.

  ‘Time for bed, I think,’ Kalinda said, putting down her whisky.

  Kalayne’s eyes opened. ‘So soon? I still have a few words. I did promise you the was, the now, and the what will be. You’ve heard my thoughts on the Kell, now hear what I have seen of you.’ He stared at them. ‘When I gaze upon people, I can sometimes see, if I look hard enough, traces of things that person saw, or will see.’

  ‘So ye don’t just stare cause yer a perverted arsehole?’ said Keira.

  ‘Well, that too,’ he said, turning his gaze to her. ‘In you, for example, I see a fire goddess arise, flames soaring, great death, nations falling and rising, Keira kill-kill.’ He smiled.

  ‘And you, pretty Kallie,’ he said, ‘in you I see your soul die at the rough hands of the Rahain, and a rebirth when the goddess returns to you.’

  ‘You, man-bear,’ he turned to Killop, ‘I see you with another woman, one with dark skin, and you are fighting the dead.’

  ‘But you, Kylon of the voice,’ he faced the young man, who looked back with defiance in his dark eyes. ‘You have much within, but your sight is heavy with your sad past and dwells there, and I cannot yet see what lies ahead for you.’

  ‘And finally,’ he said, turning to face the chief and Kalinda. ‘You two are older than I, and have lived your lives. When I look at you I see nothing but your pasts; all the joy and sadness that you have seen and felt, and your great love for your land and people. For you I already mourn.’

  His eyes closed again, and he started to snore.

  ‘I’m taking this,’ Kylon said, picking up the jug of whisky and stalking off into the darkness.

  The chief and Kalinda got up. ‘Pay no heed to him,’ she said. ‘He was drunk and ranting nonsense. Come on, Chief, bed.’ The chief nodded to them and they left.

  Killop, Kallie and Keira sat in the dim firelight, drinking the last dregs from their cups in silence.

  Chapter 24

  The Broken Sw
ing

  Northern Mountains, Kell – 28th Day, First Third Summer 503

  Drip, drip, drip.

  Killop woke, his head pounding. He was lying on his left side, covered in a heavy pile of twisted blankets and fur hides.

  How much had they drunk last night?

  Drip, drip, drip.

  His bones ached, his head spun, and his guts were far from happy.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  What in Pyre’s name was that sound? Water?

  He opened his eyes. Pale blue light shimmered back and forth across the side of the cave where he was lying. Stalactites descended from the ceiling above, the tiny crystals embedded in their structure sparkling and glistening. He would have thought it beautiful, were he not suffering from a mighty hangover.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  He looked over to locate the source of the sound. As he did so he saw Kallie lying next to him, sleeping. He watched her breathing for a while, her chest rising and falling, a line of drool seeping from the corner of her mouth, the freckle on her left earlobe, her red hair spilling out over the pillow. He let her sleep on, she looked peaceful, and blissfully unaware of the hangover to come. She had been knocking back Kalayne’s whisky at the same rate as he and Keira had.

  That stupid old bastard. Why had he told them all that crap? Just a cruel joke. Surely.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  What was that? He looked up from Kallie, and saw a pool at the far end of the cave. Above it was a hole in the roof, through which Killop could make out a tiny bit of sky. Water from above was dripping down into the rock pool below. The water shone as a thin shaft of sunlight struck the surface, and the reflections rippled across the stalactites and walls of the cave.

  He pushed the blankets away, and got up, wearing just his unders. He staggered to the pool, and fell to his knees. Cupping his hands, he plunged them in the cold pool and splashed his face, the icy water shocking him into wakefulness. He shook his head like a wet bear, and stooped to drink. The water tasted chalky, but he had a terrible thirst, and drank his fill.