by Ryk E. Spoor
She shook her head. “No, while he is undoubtedly furious with us, Kerlamion will not be able to spare energy or time to move against us for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the others actually try a coup, Erherveria especially, as for once the urgings of his true nature and the Curse of Blackness will be completely in accord on the need to throw down the ruler of All Hells and take his place.”
“Well, that’s great news!” Poplock said.
“Good news indeed,” Lythos said, entering. “There is evil enough in the world without the Lord of All Hells intervening.”
“But, Miri—what about the Five? The children you mentioned, our friends? What happened to them?” Tobimar was tense, which wasn’t surprising. Kyri was worried about that too, but Tobimar and Poplock had always been closer to Xavier than she was.
Miri looked down. “No one saw or heard anything else from them. They…they might have—”
“No, they’re okay,” Poplock said with certainty.
“You’re sounding confident on that. Why?”
“Well, two reasons. First, Khoros was pretty darn self-satisfied about that part of his plan. I could tell. And even if he is willing to take whatever means he can to get to his end, I don’t think he’d have been happy about sacrificing them all. Second, when they told us their stories, one thing they mentioned was that Khoros said they couldn’t go home until the Seal was broken. Something about the way they were brought here.
“So I’m thinking that as soon as the seal broke, they ended up going home.”
Tobimar looked as relieved as Kyri felt. “Makes sense. And now that you mention it, didn’t Xavier say that Khoros promised him he’d be able to complete his hunt for the person that killed his brother?”
“Yep. So obviously he’d have to have survived that mess to be able to go home and do the job. With the seal gone, maybe they’ll even be able to come back and visit sometime.”
Lythos nodded. “It is possible. Their world will be changing, and perhaps, with luck, we will have the opportunity to help them.”
There was something more pressing in Kyri’s mind, though. “Miri? You…haven’t said anything about Aegeia. Do you know anything?”
Tobimar gripped her hand; he knew that her little sister Urelle had decided to emulate her big sister and go off to be a hero, following their former bodyguard Ingram Camp-Bel to his homeland of Aegeia, and Aunt Victoria had set off immediately in pursuit.
Miri frowned. “Not as much, unfortunately. Aegeia was Viedra…I mean, Virigar’s own project too. Or rather the person who was overseeing it was under his direction, not Kerlamion’s. But,” she said, seeing Kyri’s expression, “but we do know that things didn’t go the way they wanted. No one has details, but despite what was described as a Godswar, it seems that the Lady of Wisdom remains incarnate.”
“I have to get there soon,” Kyri said after a moment. “And even though we know the demon siege was broken, I know you need to get home to Skysand, Tobimar.”
Tobimar brightened. “Yes. With good news. The best news.” His smile faded a touch. “That will be a long trip, though, and…well, Kyri, I had hoped you could come with me. I know Poplock will, but—”
“Of course she will come with you,” the Watchland said firmly. “Now that you have dealt with the rot at the heart of our land, Kyri, Tobimar, Poplock, the safety and strength of Evanwyl is my responsibility, not yours. I can neither command Myrionar, nor Myrionar’s Justiciars, and certainly not someone who embodies both.”
Kyri felt a rising hope, a lightness and joy that was completely unexpected, and wondered. What…?
And suddenly she realized that, inside, she had been sure that Evanwyl would be, would remain her responsibility, or worse that as a god she would be forced to leave the world, to ascend…elsewhere, wherever the gods went, and that Tobimar’s fears had more foundation than even Poplock wanted to admit.
But the Watchland was telling her that is not true.
“I…can,” she said slowly. “I can leave Evanwyl…and come back any time I choose.”
Jeridan raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “You truly thought you couldn’t, didn’t you? That being who you were bound you?”
“Oh, Kyri—you’re an incarnate god,” Miri said, shaking her head. “You’re the least bound of any of us—unless you bind yourself. The oaths of the gods have no hold on you, and even less the requirements of mortality.”
And that probably scares me more than anything else. I have power I don’t understand, and absolutely nothing and no one except myself accountable for it.
But then she looked at Tobimar, and realized that she’d had the same fears all along. And as long as I worry about that, I’m probably going to be all right.
“The world’s still going to be at war for a while,” she said, and reached out and took Tobimar’s hand. “All the more reason that these three adventurers not stay in one place.”
Tobimar surprised her with a sudden embrace and a kiss. “Then—”
“—Then we should get ready to go,” Kyri said, a completely…normal excitement and nervousness that felt so very right starting to flood through her. “After all…you need to introduce me to your family, don’t you?”
The room filled with laughter, and Kyri suddenly knew that she’d been wrong.
She wasn’t someone else. She was Myrionar, but that didn’t mean she was not Kyri Victoria Vantage, because Myrionar was also her. She wasn’t less herself.
She was just more.
Chapter 51
Tobimar felt his heart hammering in his chest as he paced the deck. This is ridiculous. I’ve faced dark dragons and monsters and the Slayer of Gods himself. And I’m shaking like a tent in a sandstorm at the thought of coming home.
But no Skysand in exile had ever come home. The exile was for twenty-four years…but twenty-four years of delving into dark secrets had apparently ensured that none would return.
I’m coming home in triumph! Why am I…
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the deck, and then that old Sauran’s gonna kick you off the boat,” Poplock said from the railing nearby.
That did get a faint smile. “If thousands of years sailing haven’t put holes in this deck, I don’t think I’m going to manage it.” He looked up, seeing T’Oltha standing high on the bridge deck above. As my journey started, so it ends. Sailing on the Lucramalalla.
Of course, it had taken a lot less time. Kyri had helped…cheat. Teleportation and gateways were still uncertain things, but being a god, even a new god, gave her leeway. She couldn’t cross the Khalals—apparently the disruptions there were intense indeed—but in great flashing jumps, one every few days, they had bounded across the face of Zarathan, from Evanwyl to the Odinsforge, bypassing the patrols of Dalthunia, from the Odinsforge to T’Tera, from there to Zarathanton, and finally to Shipton, where they had found the Lucramalalla completing its loading on the docks.
It would have been far swifter to have taken a ship from Tor Port in the Empire of the Mountain, but none of them had ever been there, or anywhere near it, so Kyri had no image, no real vision of that place, to use as a guide. He suspected that if she exerted her powers she could probably have found a vision of it that could guide her, but Kyri clearly didn’t want to abuse her powers overly much, and was still learning their extent.
He could understand that, and approved of it, really. He didn’t know anything about his own limits, now. The power of Terian had been awakened in him and was not disappearing. He had probably used up the extra…boost that the Sun’s energy had given him, but the star-blue power still waited within him.
Really, it should have been a good thing that it took time. It was a good thing. He and Kyri had finally been able to spend time with each other, talking deep into the night for weeks, standing at the rail just watching the sea together, occasionally being called to assist the crew when something threatened the ship—for the seaways had become more dangerous with the unleashing of the p
owers in the great war.
And he’d stood by her side and just held her as they sailed past Aegeia, which had not yet opened itself to the world. Whatever had happened to Urelle and Victoria, Kyri would not know for some time yet.
But at the same time…sailing left him with too much time to think. When you were travelling cross-country, you had plenty of things to keep you busy. And knowing what had happened at home…knowing that Terimur and Sundrilin would not be there to see him, to welcome him home, that many of the people he knew had fallen defending Skysand while he was away…
“I think I see something, Tobimar,” said Kyri quietly.
His head snapped up instantly, and he found himself halfway up the rail, staring, looking…
Yes.
A spire was there, just becoming visible over the horizon. The Great Tower, the One within the Seven Lesser.
The towers are still standing.
Somehow just seeing that, knowing that at the least the towers stood, released some of the tension. He could see Skysand now, see that no matter what the ravages of war, it was still there, still standing defiantly against the strength of the desert. The Smoking Lighthouse also rose up to one side, the mostly quiescent volcano at the head of the port sending a thin trail of steam and vapor high into the air.
“Is that it?”
“That’s it. That’s Skysand, Kyri. My home.”
“Then let’s not wait any longer.”
He looked at her in surprise, and she smiled. “Oh, Tobimar, I can see you’re so tense you’re going to snap like a frayed bowstring if we wait. And now that I can see where I’m going, it’s not a problem.”
“Well…” He suddenly laughed. “All right, Kyri, you know me. Let’s go get our things together.”
It didn’t take more than a half-hour to pack everything; after everything they’d gone through, they were in the habit of leaving as much packed as possible, just in case. Poplock, of course, was waiting for them impatiently. “Can’t wait to see what kind of a table your family sets,” the little Toad said.
“So that’s your ambition, to eat your way across Zarathan.”
“I can think of worse! But I’ve never been here, so I’ll bet there’s all sorts of new delicacies. And probably new bugs to eat, too. Never tried a scorpion, but one of my second cousins once said—”
“Enough about your stomach!” Kyri gave Poplock an affectionate rap on the head. “I know you’re almost as nervous as we are. This is a huge event for your people, isn’t it?”
Tobimar nodded. “The biggest, really.”
“Then stand straight and be proud, because you know they will be.”
Tobimar concentrated, and with not a little effort brought up the meditations of Tor. His heart slowed, he saw more clearly, more surely, and realized that in truth he was more worried about things more personal than just his homecoming.
Which was ridiculous; was there even the faintest possibility that his mother, the Lord of Waters, would disapprove of Kyri? Of course not. Yet the nervousness remained, and he suddenly grinned at himself. And the adventurer is reminded that he is still human.
He turned to look up. “Captain, we are departing a bit ahead of schedule.”
T’Oltha nodded. “The fact that you return tells me that I will have good fortune. I will expect a celebration by the time we make port, yes?”
“I…would not be surprised. And you are invited, personally. I began this journey with you, and it was you who sent me to the First City, when I would have chosen elsewhere.”
The huge Sauran gave a complete Armed Bow. “Then I accept, with honor. Go, then.”
He grasped Kyri’s hand. “Can you tell exactly where you’re going?”
“I can see…the seven towers around the one you described. I could put us anywhere there, or in the city around…” Kyri’s eyes shimmered with blue-gold fire.
Silver, blue, and gold…the colors of Myrionar. I wonder why those colors. “Put us in front of the Great Tower, then. The Lord of Waters will be holding court there now.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
Golden fire bloomed around them, a fire that invigorated and warmed and did not burn, and then blazed like the sun. When the light faded, Tobimar saw the great double doors, set in a frame that curled upward like a flame or the shape of the tower’s peak itself, the doors of pure black set with silver runes and the single golden sigil of Terian, the doors of the palace flung wide for petitioners and friends.
The doors of home.
All around them were startled people, staring; and then a voice called from the steps, “Tobimar? TOBIMAR?”
Murmurs sprang up as Vancilar, his oldest brother, sprinted down the steps. “Tobimar? It is you! But how…why? You know you cannot—”
“Vancilar, I know. I know the traditions as well as any of us.” He looked into his brother’s dark-brown eyes, waited until he had his full attention. “The youngest of the Skysand knows full well what is demanded of him, and says to his oldest and wisest of brothers that he must be brought immediately to speak with the Lord of Waters.”
As he had expected, the formality cut off the questions. This was not something to be discussed on the threshold, but only in the presence of the ruler of Skysand. Vancilar nodded. “Then I bid you follow, Tobimar, and if your companion would as well, for the Lord of Waters holds court today.”
As they mounted the steps and entered the Great Tower, Tobimar saw the others waiting glance back, see Vancilar and Tobimar and Kyri, and step aside. The whispers and mutters increased, and there was a fearful edge in some of those glances, a hopeful tinge to others’ voices, for they knew that Tobimar’s return could mean only one of two things.
The doors to the Throneroom of Fountains were also flung wide, and from within Tobimar could hear a voice so familiar that it brought tears to his eyes, his mother’s voice, calm and reasoning, dissecting some problem brought before her and showing her people the way to its solution.
She glanced up—her hair now pure white, not a trace of the few black strands that had been there five, six years ago when he had departed—and froze, staring at him in shock, fear and hope momentarily clear on her face before she regained control.
She straightened in her throne, and gestured for the way to be cleared.
Now they walked across the black and gold polished granite of the Throneroom, and their steps echoed in the startled silence. He stopped precisely eight steps from the throne and then knelt. “The youngest and least of her sons greets the wise and ageless Lord of Waters, and begs that she will hear him at this time,” he said. Beside him, he felt Kyri duplicate his gesture, saying nothing. Poplock, of course, merely balanced and watched.
There was a pause, then his mother spoke. “May the Spring of the Court flow ever for you, my son. The Lord of Waters must indeed hear you, and grave indeed is the occasion, for you have returned to this land far before the term of your Seeker’s Exile. Rise and speak.”
He rose, heart once more hammering, but now with anticipation. I daydreamed about this. I think all of us did as children. Mother did, I know. And now…
“O Lord of Waters, what you say is even so. But I say to you that this is because my term is ended.”
Her eyes widened, blue eyes so like his own shimmering with disbelieving hope. “Then—”
With a great laugh, he abandoned formality, leapt up the stairs, caught his mother’s hands. “I have found that which was lost, Mother! I know from whence we came! I have faced our enemies and touched the Sun, and the power of Terian itself has touched me!”
He raised his hand, turning to face the crowd, and let a blaze of blue-white godsfire ignite like a torch of stars. “The curse is lifted, the ban is broken!”
“The ban is broken, and Mother…Mother, I have come home!”
Gazetteer for Zarathan
NOTE: Some elements of the Gazetteer are spoilers for Phoenix Rising and Phoenix in Shadow.
Overview
&
nbsp; Zarathan (more properly Zahr-a-Thana, World of Magic) is a planet of generally Earth size and composition. It is presumed to be the source of all magic in all universes. The main continent (and the only continent commonly known) stretches approximately four thousand, eight hundred miles north to south and, at its widest, is about the same east to west (it averages between two and three thousand east-west over most of its extent, however). It can be generally divided into three regions: Southern Zarathan, which is most of the continent south of the Khalal mountain range, Northern Zarathan which is everything north of the Khalals plus the very large island/miniature continent of Artania, and Elyvias, a subcontinent peninsula shaped something like a gigantic Cape Cod and separated from Southern Zarathan by the Barricade Mountains.
The history, geography, and peoples of Zarathan are all affected greatly by the apparently cyclical “Chaoswars” which bring periodic conflict to the world and are associated with massive mystical/deific disturbances which, among other effects, distort or erase memories and even records of prior events—up to and including those of the gods. Thus, while the generally known history of Zarathan stretches back over half a million years, clear records are rarely available for anything older than the most recent Chaoswar, and even the gods themselves can only partially answer questions pertaining to events beforehand.
Countries
There are several countries on this continent, but it should be made clear that “country” on Zarathan is not quite the same as “country” in the modern civilized world of Earth. Most of the area claimed as a country’s territory is actually relatively wild and untamed and dangerous; only cleared areas around cities and major roads tend to be safe for travel. The overall population of the countries is therefore much lower than might be expected, given that the average standard of living is closer to that of twentieth-century Earth in many ways than it is to the medieval era that one might first assume, seeing no factories and noticing that the sword is still a common weapon. Following is a list of the important countries of Zarathan (there are others not listed, but these are the ones significant either overall, or specifically for the Balanced Sword trilogy):
