Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  Of course, how much of that was true of all seers, and how much was just his lot, she didn't know. After all, it turned out her uncle was a seer, though she'd never seen him talk to invisible people before. Maybe that was just Mortimer? After all, there was no reason he couldn't be mad as well as magical.

  But as she raced along the dirt tracks and back roads, cutting across the southern lands, she didn’t think about that. It wasn't even what Master Thyman had instructed her to do when he'd come up with this idea. Instead it was what Baen had told her about her mother and the terrible situation she’d been in that held her attention.

  By the Lady it was awful. Trapped in Castle Alldrake. Held prisoner there not by chains and binds, but by her own child. Dariya had never understood that her uncle had been using her as a means of controlling her mother. And perversely using her mother to control her. She'd always understood that her uncle was a foul creature. And that he'd had disgusting designs on her. But not the rest. Just the thought of becoming his wife made her sick to her very core. It made her want to bathe.

  But that her mother – a woman that she had been so angry at for so long – had actually been trying to protect her? That was a knife in her guts, slowly being twisted. The pain tore at her heart. Now she thought, it wasn't enough that her uncle be killed. He had to be slaughtered! Painfully. After that, well maybe she would go back to where her mother was buried and place a stone on her grave. Something to tell the world that Amberlee the Wicked wasn't so evil after all. That she deserved a little respect – at least from her daughter.

  But as the long hours on the torture device continued and the clay vanished beneath its wheels, her plans seemed so far away.

  At least she was getting closer to her destination. The weather changed a little as she got closer to the border. The land rose and the distant hills blocked the harsh winds, allowing only a gentle zephyr to blow through. In short, it was becoming colder and more still. There was also a dampness in the air. The breeze though was becoming more fragrant. Pines and cedars, redwoods and larch. It was faint, little more than an echo carried from the distant leagues, but she had ridden these lands often enough to know the changes. Another hour, and she would be there. Of course, by the time she got there her arse would be black and blue.

  That was another thing that was wrong with the wizard. Baen actually liked riding this thing! He truly was crazy!

  Still, she continued her ride and tried to put the discomfort of her battered flesh out of her head. Only another hour – and then the real work would begin.

  But would it work? Would they hear her words? That question remained with her as she rode. In the end it was also the only thing that mattered. They had to listen.

  The sun was setting by the time she finally reached the border. Thankfully it was warm and she knew the light would linger for another hour or so. Enough time. If she used it wisely.

  Dariya got off the wheeler and reached into the bags on the back for the first of the items she'd carried with her. Her copy of the Golden Concord. She then placed it reverently on the grass, not far from where she'd first seen the wizard turn that same grass into a living, breathing monster.

  Thinking about what she had to do her mouth became dry. Still she managed to speak the words. She knew them as she knew no others. It was the declaration taken from the front page of the Concord.

  “Thus it was Spake. It was sworn in Blood that the Peace would be made between the Realm of Man and the Realm of Magic.”

  It was only a line. A binding. Not even a spell. And yet it did all that any spell could do and more. Just stating it she felt her blood flow faster in her veins, turning to fire and ice inside her as it recognised the Concord. As she had only once before – on the day she had taken her oath to the Order. She wasn't a wizard, but she was bound to magic.

  But the binding wasn't just contained within the book. It was in the border itself. And as she felt her blood come to life, she felt the Concord respond.

  People who weren’t Friends of the Concord wouldn't understand this. If they had any knowledge of the border and the Concord, they would have thought it was simply an agreement. And the border merely a line on a map. But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just words spoken and agreed upon. It wasn't lines of text written in a book. It wasn't even a spell. It was something far more than any of those things.

  The Golden Concord had been sworn in dark times. Both realms had been in chaos. So many were dead on both sides that it was beyond knowing. And those still living had been frightened that war and death would come for them too. In that time and that place a mere agreement could never have been enough. The world had needed peace. True peace. And so the greatest spell casters on both sides of the border and the most devout priests had come together and created a binding.

  Eighty four clauses of law that were written in the blood of the dead and the prayers of the living. That would be heard in the hearts of the generations to come when they were needed. Now one of those clauses needed to be heard. It was the clause relating to parley.

  It seemed ironic to her, feeling the magic swell and flow around her. Bitterly so. Her uncle the Duke for all his evil, had not broken the Concord when he had sent his soldiers into G'lorenvale. The border did not forbid people from crossing the border. And it did not stop them from doing terrible things. Not even when they did them on the other side. It was not an agreement that bound commoners. It bound Kings and Realms. Men would still be men. Some of them would still descend to the worst their souls could imagine. For them the laws of the lands would be their judge. The Duke was not the King, and so even when he sent a small army of soldiers into the realm of the Fae to do unspeakable things, it was not an act of war. But had King Richmond sent even a single soldier across the border to enforce his will to conquest, the border would have responded. Had he claimed a single inch of land in the name of Grenland or tried to enforce a single law of his Realm in the other, the border would have responded.

  Her uncle could do almost anything he wanted because he was not the rightful ruler, up to and including starting a war if that was his desire, and the King could do nothing. Yet to become King was his true intention. And in the end when her uncle had launched his attack, the last of it had had to be stopped by a wizard from Grenland and her. She could only thank the Lady that they had been able to.

  But what had his intention been? She asked herself that as she waited for the others to arrive. Had it truly been to start a war? Or was it as Baen had suggested, to serve the needs of his accomplices on the other side? She was almost willing to accept that the wizard's theory was right. But how did it serve them to have their own people abducted into Grenland? To start a war? That was a question the Fae would have to answer for themselves.

  Dariya gave up on trying to solve the riddle and instead set about gathering wood for a fire. She wasn't at all sure that the Fae would arrive before night fell, and it would be good to have a fire lit before then. Though really, there wouldn’t be a lot that needed to be said. This meeting, no matter how important it might be, would be short.

  Twenty minutes later she had a roaring fire burning, and a large kettle full of water beginning to heat up when she heard the sound of wings. Looking up she saw one of the wardens about to land. The first of her guests had arrived.

  They would not all be wardens and protectors of course. On the Grenland side of the border the task of enforcing the Golden Concord had been given to an elite Order. Perhaps that had been a mistake considering how weak the Friends now were. But on the other side the Fae had entrusted the sacred duty to people from all walks of life. Some were those who enforced the laws of the land. Others might well be bakers and housekeepers. Husbands and wives. The warden was simply the first to arrive because he lived nearby and had an eagle to carry him.

  “Welcome.” She greeted the man when he walked over to her fire. “I'm Dariya Morningstar, of the Order of Friends of the Golden Concord.”

  “Raejean Kar of the South
ern Patrol.” He introduced himself.

  “Then please Raejan Kar of the Southern Patrol, make yourself comfortable by the fire while we wait for the others to arrive.” She gestured at the fire and was pleased when he took a place in front of it. A meeting between both sides of those who served the Concord had not been held in many years. In fact it had not happened since well before she had joined the Order. But at least it seemed the customs had not been forgotten.

  The two of them waited there in companionable silence, watching as slowly the others arrived. Some flew on eagles. Some rode wolves. Some walked. But by the time the darkness had finally settled on the world there were roughly thirty of them sitting around the crackling fire. It was then that she judged it time to speak. Thirty should be enough. At least to begin with.

  “We meet in difficult times,” she began without any preamble. “Times that have made no sense to most of us. Until now.” Of course, she couldn't be sure of that. She didn't know what things were like on the other side of the border. But it seemed a safe wager that things there were not good when their own people sent to build Trading Missions were no longer able to either speak with their loved ones or return home. And when prisoners were simply walking out of their gaols. As Baen had said, chaos was the true ruler of the land.

  “But we have learned to find the sense in what is seemingly without any. We now believe we know why Duke Barnly, my uncle, chose to launch a raid on G'lorenvale when it served no purpose to him. And why I would guess, many of you have been told not to speak with those of your people now on my side of the border.”

  Fortunately, whoever had done that and however they had done it had not counted on the Friends of the Golden Concord having a means of communication with their counterparts on the other side. If the wizard was right it could well be that their enemies had lost so much control of their future memories that they could not foresee this meeting. Though it also occurred to her that maybe they had and had therefore taken precautions. It could also be that she was doing exactly what they wanted. And there was nothing she could do about it. She would just have to remain alert and be ready for anything.

  “There is a battle of seers raging. My uncle, Duke Barnly, is one of them. There are others on both sides of the border. And they must be dealt with. This battle threatens more than just the people of G'lorenvale and Grenland. It threatens the border itself.”

  And that was why the Master had sent her. The understanding that their sacred duty was now imperilled by this madness.

  “When the Duke sent raiders across the border into G'lorenvale, his attack on Illoria could have provoked a response. Especially had his raiders managed to escape your realm with their prisoners. Old and long since forgotten hostilities could have been re-awoken. War returned to the realms. That was the intent.”

  “The attack was stopped.” Raejan Kar pointed out.

  “And in doing so other plans were changed. Instead of war, the Trading Missions were sent. And suddenly the seers on all sides were suffering from terrible confusion. It is the penalty all seers must pay for trying to change the future. My uncle and his partners on your side of the border grew desperate, and new plans were made. Baen Walkerton was taken, imprisoned and nearly killed by your priests. Then he was banished. The Trading Missions have been abandoned and left in chaos. And we have heard rumours that all is not well with those who have been forced by the King's decrees to flee to the Hallows. They are unhappy.”

  “At the moment we believe that this current ban on the people from the Trading Missions from returning home imperils the sanctity of the border. Sooner or later the trade goods being sent from G'lorenvale to them will run out and when that happens they will no longer be so welcome in Grenland. But they will also be unable to return home.”

  And what would happen when those back in G'lorenvale discovered that their loved ones were in danger? She guessed they would take action to get them back. That in itself would create trouble, particularly if they dared to launch a rescue mission.

  “Master Thyman has decided that we must act, but as always it must be in accordance with our vows. That means we cannot act on your side of the border. And you cannot act on ours. Whatever actions are to be taken must be taken by the people of G'lorenvale. But we can still speak. Our vows to the Golden Concord take priority over anything else. We can only tell you of what we understand to be happening.”

  With that Dariya bent down and reached into her satchel and pulled out a fist full of papers. All of them were copies of the letter Master Thyman had written. It was useful having a wizard with a magical printing press. He could print far more than just books.

  “These are records of what we know to have happened, and our speculations as to why.” She handed the papers to the nearest of the visitors, and motioned to him to pass them along.

  “We cannot tell you what actions to take. But our advice would be to first make sure that this information is passed to others.”

  “Those who have conspired with my uncle the Duke, must be found and stopped, before what has already become bad threatens the Concord itself.” And that was the key for them. None of them, at least as Friends of the Golden Concord were charged with stopping the crimes of the conspirators. But they had to protect the Concord at all costs. If they didn't mere criminal acts could lead to war. And that could not be allowed. Never again.

  Dariya stopped speaking then and allowed her visitors to read what Master Thyman had written for themselves. And really she thought, he had done a masterful job of condensing months’ worth of events into two pages. Better than she could have done. While she waited she noticed that several more people had arrived. She realised that she was going to have to go through this again. Maybe several more times.

  But that was good. The more people who knew, the harder it would be for their enemies to stop them. More importantly, it would make it harder for their enemies to hide. Because at the very least someone would eventually ask how Estor could possibly now be free. And when they did, when they knew who had removed her brand and freed her, they would know their enemy.

  She just had to hope that what she was doing wasn't a part of their enemy's designs. That was the problem with fighting seers. You could never be certain that what you were doing was for your own benefit or theirs. Still, it was hard to see how this could serve the Duke's purposes or his allies. She had also had a long, detailed, and extremely unpleasant conversation with Baen's great uncle. The one thing she had determined from him was that he was living in a world of confusion. While it might just have been the wine, she suspected that it was his gift trying to work in a world where the future had changed radically. Where everything he remembered of it kept changing.

  “Is this certain?” one of the Fae asked unexpectedly. He was a tall, thin man even among his people, and bore a silver, crescent moon on one cheek.

  “Nothing is certain,” Dariya answered, suspecting from his marking that he was a priest of some sort. Though his dress code was closer to that of a forester than a Holy Order. “But this is as close to certainty as we can be. It is up to those on your side of the border to investigate it further.”

  “But why would the seers do this?” another asked. “Where is their loyalty?”

  “To themselves.” Dariya answered him. “Always to themselves. And no one should have ever imagined otherwise.”

  “Every prophecy ever made and given by a seer has not been a prophecy at all. It has been a memory of the future. The seer's future. And their prophecy has always reflected what they remember. If they remember giving poor advice in the future, when the time came they would give that same poor advice again even knowing it was poor. Because if anything changes in their future, then it impacts on them. It causes confusion and pain. So they tell you what they need to tell you in order to live their lives as best they wish. I don’t believe that many seers in the past have sought to change anything. But at some point someone has – we would assume because his or her future has been so blea
k that they would rather suffer madness than endure what they knew to be coming. And each change leads to more changes. And when the changes are made by kings and would be kings, they affect all seers.”

  “Now things have become so confused and they are in such disorder that all their actions are directed toward their own survival. They are desperately pushing, pulling and prodding at events in the present to change the future, always and only with that goal in mind. This is a war – but not such as any of us have ever know. Instead it is a war of seers where all are battling one another only to survive. And where the changes they make affect the futures of other seers.”

  “None of them, can be trusted.”

  Silence fell after she told them that. Possibly because they were thinking about what she'd said. But maybe because they were trying to work out how much of what they were doing, was because a seer had told them to do it. And it would only get worse when they realised that not all seers told others of their gift. Some, like her uncle the Duke, chose to hide their gift. Others, like Baen's Great Uncle Mortimer, were simply considered to be madmen.