Ringwall`s Doom

by Awert, Wolf

  The mages said nothing. One after the other turned and went back through the swamp with their heads bowed. They did not much care where they went, as long as it was away from the Borderlands where their magic was so weak.

  Morb-au-Morhg, Binja and Rinja stayed. “You know, your Excellency, I believe the three of us no longer feel like we belong to Ringwall. Of course, I cannot speak for the twins, but I only went there for the library, because I wanted answers to my questions.” Morhg’s eyes twinkled when he addressed Nill as “your Excellency.”

  The twins nodded and smiled, but said nothing, although Nill was not quite sure whether he imagined a whispering in his mind. The words were incomprehensible. They were thoughts and impressions, poking at him beneath his skull. A little appreciation, a little amusement, maybe even some admiration. Nill was confused. Even Tiriwi did not approach his thoughts so carefully. Slowly, his brows drew together in a frown.

  “Don’t be grumpy,” Binja laughed. “You’re a proper young man now. Malachiris wouldn’t have made a bad deal with you. That one’s too big for me.” She laughed as she nodded in Sedramon’s direction.

  Rinja joined her in laughing and AnaNakara put her arm around Sedramon’s waist and pulled him close. “You wouldn’t have got him anyway,” she called.

  Sedramon looked around and did not know what to say. Nill cleared his throat. His voice was rather reserved when he spoke. “I’d appreciate it if you dropped the ‘your Excellency’ thing. Despite my words, I don’t feel like a magon or even an archmage. It just seemed like the right way to get the mages to stop fighting. Magon, archmage – what does it even mean anymore?”

  “A smart move. You played the game well. You have what it takes to be a great leader.”

  Hearing Dakh-Ozz-Han speak such praise made Nill even more embarrassed than he already was. And again, he did not know whether his friends were making fun of him or not. He squared his shoulders and attempted to formulate a clear answer, but the words escaped him.

  In all the commotion, Bairne tried to slip away quietly, but Brolok caught her by the arm.

  “Are you running away again? Leaving me again? Are you ever going to come back?”

  “Let me go. I am not free. I belong to…”

  Bairne stopped and swallowed her words before they could get out.

  “You belong to… well, I always thought you belonged with me. At least for a time. You’re my wife. Or you were. Who do you belong to now? Who caught your heart for a fancy?”

  “Not my heart. Witches have no hearts. Witches are cruel. Didn’t you see it yourself, just now?”

  For a quick moment a slight shine passed over Bairne’s big eyes, but the moisture in them was not enough for tears. So she wiped the shine away and continued in a stronger voice.

  “I belong to the land, Brolok. The Waterways, the glittering of the sun in the water. I have duties.”

  “And these duties brought you right back into this fight.”

  Bairne gulped. “I can’t explain. Maybe later, if we ever see each other again. As long as you remain in the Waterways, I won’t be far. But you will not find me elsewhere. I can’t say any more.”

  “Oh, then go. Go on! Leave!” Brolok pushed her away so hard that Bairne stumbled and almost fell, but Brolok did not see it, having turned away so quickly. He glared at Nill, Sedramon and Dakh, who were standing together oddly quietly.

  “There is so much to explain,” Sedramon-Per said. “But this is not the place to do so. Please, follow me. AnaNakara will go ahead with the boat, we will go by foot. It isn’t far. It’s the place where the Book of Mun is kept. You will want to see.”

  “Before we go. Before…” Nill’s voice caught in his throat. “I need one more answer.”

  Nill had only one question and wanted only one answer, but asking it was harder than anything he had ever done. He stared directly into Sedramon’s eyes, but when he finally spoke, the words were not the ones that ate away at him.

  “Tell me, do you know the magic of Nothing?”

  The mage was surprised. He had expected anything except that. Slowly, he shook his head.

  “No, Nill. I was chosen to bring the Nothing to Ringwall. Perhaps I was simply in the right place at the right time, who can say? No, I have no power over Nothing.”

  “And…” Nill held his gaze for what felt like forever. Then the words tumbled out of him. He could hold them back no more.

  “Are you my father?”

  Again, Sedramon-Per shook his head. “I wish I was, but I’m not. And AnaNakara is not your mother.”

  “But who are they then? Who are my parents that just abandoned me?”

  Nill’s voice rose to a scream with the last words, and in his scream he put all his pain and his hopes he had carried around for so long. The joy he had felt at inching closer to the name Perdis, and finally finding a man to match the name. What did it matter that it had been in the middle of a battle? Sedramon-Per, Perdis, his father who had left him behind in Earthland and had returned just in the right moment, not wanting to fail his son again. That was what Nill wanted to hear. That was the idea that had been growing in Nill throughout the battle. And now?

  “Perhaps AnaNakara can tell you who your father is,” Dakh said quietly.

  “I don’t know either,” the Oa said sadly as she met Nill’s desperate gaze. “All I can tell you is this: one day, a woman with a babe on her arm came to me. She was fleeing the mages that had tracked her and her sister to the Mistwood. Hiding from Ringwall’s mages is not easy.”

  Morb-au-Morhg, Binja and Rinja edged closer.

  “I don’t know what crime she had committed. Perhaps it had to do with her sister, for the mages had found her and broken her mind so that she could no longer use magic. Perhaps she just didn’t want to suffer the same fate. So much ‘perhaps.’ And then, as it happens in life, Sedramon and I had a child, but it was not strong enough to live. Sedramon was gone and I was left with a dead child and breasts full of milk. That was all. You were the woman’s child and I raised you. Perhaps I was your second mother, but I did not give birth to you. You are no child of the Oas.”

  “Not the child of a nobleman either. Too much wild magic in him. Perhaps he was the son of a black witch?” Morb-au-Morhg mused.

  “Black witch?” AnaNakara seemed suddenly alert. “Yes, that was her, a black witch with incredible powers.”

  “The Mistmountains, you said?” Morb spoke very quietly.

  “Yes, she came down from the Mistmountains.”

  “Do you remember what she looked like, this woman?”

  “No. It was all over rather quickly and it happened many springs ago. Her hair was dark, I remember that.”

  Morb-au-Morhg nodded slowly and thoughtfully. His eyes gazed unseeing into the distance as memories overtook his sight.

  “Dark hair with a red sheen when the sun fell on it. Slender and tough and irrepressible strength.”

  “Yes, a red sheen under the sun.” AnaNakara nodded. “I remember the red now that you mention it. It wasn’t the kind of red you see in the druids and sometimes their children.”

  “Her sister’s hair was even redder. It was the color of the old kings. We were always wandering together, the three of us; always on the run, never at peace. We were together, you know, for a while, but we parted ways. They stayed in the Mistmountains, I moved through the kingdoms in my search for the origin of magic. I learned much from those sisters.”

  “What are you saying?” Nill breathed.

  “It is entirely possible that I am your father, Nill. But believe me, I never knew you were born, or I would never have left. And I never abandoned you.”

  Nill was shaken, as though the world was quaking. “If that’s true, then I fought my own father in the tournament.”

  “Not only that, you defeated him.”

  “Don’t start that again. But it’s true. I could never have harmed you.”

  “I know. That’s why I wasn’t afraid.”

 
; “Liar.”

  “Well, who likes a hand around their throat anyway?” Morb-au-Morhg said and he clasped Nill cautiously by the upper arm as if to straighten him. Nill flinched and stood a little stiffer. Morb retracted his hand.

  “I suppose it might take some time to get used to.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “I always saw you as a sort of father figure. Do you remember the conversation we had on the battlements of Ringwall? You said then that I might evade fate’s notice, but could never run from the past. The past has finally caught up.”

  “No, boy. Not caught up. You’ve been searching for it – you’ve been running after it. Let me have a look at you. I’ll have to get used to you, and you to me.”

  Morhg the Mighty pulled his son closer. Nill breathed in the wild smell of old leather, the smell of earth, of crushed herbs from a thousand nightly campfires, the aroma of oil that had been applied and polished until the leather shone, and finally the mixture of magic and aura that was so strange, yet so familiar. So this was his father. Morb-au-Morhg, known as the Mighty. He was so unknown to him, far more than Sedramon, but the feeling of belonging, of finally being part of something, was so overwhelming that his joy washed away all the worry, the strangeness and the unexpectedness without a trace. Nill came out of the hug and asked slowly: “And what happened to my mother and her sister?”

  Morb-au-Morhg and AnaNakara exchanged glances that quite clearly showed their ignorance in the matter.

  AnaNakara took over. “We never heard of her again. But the mages didn’t, either. We would have felt that. The bond between us was too strong. We do not know about her sister, either. She must have walked a different path. The only thing I remember about her – I never saw her myself – is her name.”

  Morb nodded. “Yes, her name. An unusual one. It sounded like the call of a blackbird. ‘E-Sa-Ra.’”

  “What?”

  The word came from both men as Dakh and Nill wheeled around to stare at each other.

  “Esara? She was my foster mother in Earthland. Did you know that when you set me out?”

  “We did not set you out, my boy,” Sedramon-Per said calmly yet emphatically. “We left you behind, but we did not just abandon you. We knew the path of the ramsmen and we knew they would find you, but we truly did not know that Esara lived there.”

  “And so it comes full circle,” Dakh said. “It was meant to be.”

  “It’s all a bit much for a neophyte like myself, but at least I’m glad I wasn’t searching in vain,” Nill said, desperately trying to keep a hold of his emotions. “Dakh was looking for the sorcerer Sedramon-Per and he finally found him, and I was after this Perdis, of whom I had no more than a name, a few runes and an amulet.”

  Nill looked up when Sedramon and AnaNakara made surprised sounds.

  “Perdis? Did you just say Perdis?”

  Nill nodded.

  “And you say you found him here?”

  Nill nodded again. “Sedramon-Per showed me his time in Ringwall and much more. I saw how he brought the Nothing to the Sanctuary. He presumably hid the ancient runes on the parchments in the library. Who else would have done it?”

  “You’re right. I did write on those parchments, and I wove the bands that held your amulet and connected the two with a rokka-nut. I was not able to inscribe the glyphs, so AnaNakara did that in my stead. She has access to the magic of light and dark and can feel that ancient magic behind the bridge between sky and earth. This gift was the reason for her enmity with the wise women, and when the archmages wanted to punish me for freeing the falundron, we decided to flee. The only thing you got wrong is Perdis. I am not him.”

  Nill stared, flabbergasted, at Sedramon.

  “So who is he?”

  “He is you. Perdis is the name your mother gave you, and Perdis was the name on the parchment I inscribed with the runes. They were meant for you. I was sure you would find them one day. I never guessed you would not know your own name.”

  “So I’ve been running after myself all this time,” Nill noted with resignation. The revelation was confusing and relieving at the same time.

  It was good to finally have reached the end of his search, but he had not found what he was looking for. Bitterness came from the disappointment that his findings were so meaningless for all he had done and meant to do. And doubt, that nagging doubt… Nill was not sure he had reached the end of his road yet, for Perdis, as the spring-keeper had told him, was not a name given by parents, but by fate. But fate had chosen the name Nill for him. Nill, the nothing. Not Perdis, the voice. Who was Perdis really, or rather, who was the one meant to be Perdis if not him?

  “No wonder nobody knew the name Perdis,” Nill said. “But I suppose I’ll never learn why my mother called me that.” He made a brave attempt at a smile, although he did not feel like smiling at all.

  “Who knows,” Dakh said.

  “There is so much left to discuss,” Sedramon said. “But enough for now. Come with us. It is not far. It’s a bit small, but dry at least. There is food and our girls would like to meet you, Nill. And besides: it’s right where Mun is hidden.”

  It was as Sedramon-Per had said. In the swamplands of the Waterways stood several huts. Some were to live in, others for storage. They were not large and there was not much space. Two girls came rushing out, stopped suddenly when they saw all the unfamiliar faces, and greeted bashfully. The older of the two opened her eyes wide in surprise, the younger fled to her mother’s arms.

  “Food’s nearly ready, the girls say. We’ve a small stream down there where we get our fresh water from. You can wash there. You might not notice it, but you look like mud monsters, and right now isn’t the best time to confuse friend and foe at a glance.”

  The meal was simple, but filling. This part of the swamp, too, was home to all manner of sea snakes. Their firm yet fatty meat made an excellent base for a strong stew into which had been thrown a green mess of leaves for good measure. Roots and bulbs were rare in the moist ground, but some of the trees dropped strange spindles that sank into the soft earth and turned into new plants. They were chewy and woody, but between all the fiber they contained a hearty sort of marrow. What Nill liked best about the stew was the strong taste of salt. Salt was only plentiful in wealthy Ringwall – everywhere else they had to use spices to give their dishes a special flavor.

  Nill enjoyed the moments of peace and quiet. Too much had happened. The fight had taken them almost to the brink, and when it was finally over, the world around them began to tumble. Up was down, right was left, far away was close nearby. Sedramon was not Perdis. AnaNakara was not his mother. In their stead he had received a father who had appeared, seemingly, out of nothing. Fitting, I suppose. And Perdis, mysterious Perdis, vexing Perdis was none other than he himself. It would take a long time until he knew how to handle all these new things. The old druid’s voice brought him out of his reverie.

  “What was Malachiris truly after? I mean, apart from revenge? And even that I don’t understand. It happens all the time in life that a man and a woman find each other and then realize they aren’t meant to be. They find new partners and maybe someday they will be happy.” Dakh looked questioningly around as if he doubted that anyone could make sense of it all.

  Surprisingly, AnaNakara was the one to answer. “Malachiris was right, venerable druid.” Her deep, somewhat odd bow as she sat expressed her respect for the druid far better than words. “She was no Oa, but a witch. Witches don’t live like druids and Oas. And she was a clever woman who knew what she wanted.”

  “So what did she want? That’s the part I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple, really. She wanted a man and she wanted his children. Not just any man, and not just any children, mind you. She wanted to be part of the new order after Ringwall was crushed. In the new time when the Great Change has come, other people will be important and powerful. She wanted her children to be a part of it all. She wanted the only form of immortality nat
ure grants us. She wanted to live on through her children. Her very special children.”

  “If you’re right, that means Malachiris knew what lay in store for Pentamuria.”

  “Yes, it does. Perhaps she was merely convinced she knew. We will never know.”

  “That’s the reason she offered us freedom if Nill went with her. She thought Nill was Sedramon’s son.” Dakh turned to face them. “You two must have something special that Malachiris felt. And you’re not even related.”

  “I am a mage. Or rather, I was,” Sedramon said. “But I do not have a mage’s blood. The only connection I have to the five elements is a druid grandfather on my father’s side. You yourself know that that doesn’t mean much, right, Dakh?”

  Dakh flung his hands in the air in mock outrage. The atmosphere grew happier now that the tension had passed and they had all eaten.

  “It’s the same with Nill,” Morb-au-Morhg said. “Well, similar at least. Nill’s mother was a black witch. I myself am a wild sorcerer who only got into Ringwall under special circumstances. I never knew my parents. They were not noble – like I say, I came from the wilderness. My teachers were other wild sorcerers, warlocks, druids – once, an Oa.” Morb cleared his throat. “That’s a different story.”

  “Enough now.” AnaNakara could be very convincing, and everyone agreed. “It’s time to rest. Nill wants to read the Book of Mun tomorrow. It’s too late now; you can only find it just after sunrise. And I’m sure Nill isn’t the only one keen to get a look at it. Am I right, Dakh?”

  The druid nodded. “I have been looking for it my entire life and I never found a single one of the books. Even Arun I only found because Nill dragged me to it. But now I begin to understand why. The key was in the desert. Sedramon found it, and so did Nill. I believe fate led both there and always guided me past it. As you say, AnaNakara. Let us rest.”