The Forge in the Forest

by Michael Scott Rohan

  With many words, but one voice, the crowd roared, a thunder of affirmation that started the very gulls from the distant shore. Erouel, his white cloak blowing, stood contemplating the uproar with an air of kindly detachment. "My lord," he said mildly, "you were wounded in the face, I see. Better that you had taken care, and worn your helm." Before Kermorvan could move the old chamberlain had clapped the bright thing upon his head, the scepter in his palm, and now the crowd erupted.

  "A fine coronation!" laughed Kermorvan, when he could be heard again. "To take a man unawares, indeed! For my ancestors' sake, we will have to have something more formal one day. But for now…" Kermorvan nodded, and a great tension drained out of him. "It is well. And for that, may the Powers of Life gaze with favor upon our city." He looked then at Elof and Kara, and smiled. "For surely they move among us this day!"

  He raised the scepter, and pointed. Over the harbor two great ravens flew up, circling in the eye of the risen sun. And as the free folk of Morvanhal watched them, they wheeled away far out across the gilded ocean, as if they would seek out its easternmost shores.

  Coda

  At the end of the Book of the Helm is set down only that many a long year of happiness lay ahead for him and his love, and for their friends. Yet the years may not be as neatly closed as a chronicle; for during this very time the snows were massing upon other summits far away, and sundering and suffering were to follow. But also to come, as the Book of the Armring recounts, were the deeds which won Elof Valantor final renown as the mightiest of all magesmiths amid the dark days of the ancient Winter of the World.

  Appendix

  Of the land of Brasayhal, its form, nature and climate, and of its peoples and their several histories, such as are set forth in that volume of the Winter Chronicles called the Book of the Helm.

  The Book of the Helm, being the account of a single immense journey, is more easily rendered into a coherent tale than its predecessor the Book of the Sword: no less living a voice sounds from its pages. Yet as before there remain many instances where much of interest is omitted, and much included that, however fascinating, is irrelevant: for the tale's sake a balance must be found. A brief account of the most important aspects is therefore included here. Though it can do no more than sketch in some details and guess at others, it may at least drive back a little the shadows cast by time upon the great deeds of an age that is gone.

  THE LAND

  In the years of the Long Winter the extent of the land of Brasayhal was very great, a vast continent that stretched some thousand leagues from ocean to ocean across the northern world. The journey of Elof Valantor and his companions took them from the southwestern to the northeastern coasts, an even greater distance, and through a range of the diverse lands and climes it then held. For the most part, of course, it was Forest; yet within that Forest there were as many variations as in the lands about its boundaries.

  THE LAND OF TAOUNE'LA

  The first of these beyond the Meneth Scahas, the Shield-range which marked the border of the Westlands, was the sinister realm of Taoune'la. For the most part it seems to have consisted of three regions; the northernmost of these appears to have resembled today's Arctic desert, and was seen by the travelers only briefly, at the entrance of Morvan in the Withered Marches, and in a much narrower region at their eastern escape from the Ice. Below this opened up a region of tundra, bleak grassland underlaid with thick layers of frozen water known as "permafrost," whose expansion can often cause the hummocky deformations of the land mentioned. Between this and the Forest, and perhaps extending into it, was a region of taiga, a slightly warmer, often swampy country in which patches of woodland can often still grow; permafrost may still occur in taiga regions, but more sporadically. To judge by the state of the ground the travelers found in springtime, however, the climate was swiftly worsening, and the tundra gradually encroaching on the taiga, which would bear out Korentyn's gloomy prediction. The land they came into after their escape from the Ice was some leagues further south, and save for the immediate area around the Ice a much more usual form of southern tundra or taiga landscape; its sudden burgeoning in spring is characteristic. However, the land there may have been unusually rich; for desert, tundra and taiga were all relatively recent arrivals. Before the coming of the Ice all the east of Taoune'la had been the mor guerower, the "greengold sea," the infinite southern grainfields of Morvan.

  THE OPEN LANDS

  Beyond the western margins of Taoune'la the river Gor-lafros flowed down from the Ice into the Open Lands. In the north these were a bleak and empty country of hill and moor, much the same on both banks: it was as if the chill of the meltwater that fed the river tainted and impoverished the soil, and it may be that there also the permafrost was spreading. But the worst of the taint, perhaps, was carried by outflows westward through the Shieldbreach into the Marshlands, and thence to the cleansing ocean. For south of the Breach the western bank of the Open Lands grew more fertile, until they gave way to the wooded country which the duergar claimed as their own. And on the eastern bank the true Forest flourished.

  THE FOREST

  Here, growing in temperate, hilly country, it was much like its lesser western arm, Aithennec; but eastward, as one approached the Meneth Aithen, the land grew somewhat lower, the climate warmer and moister, and the Forest ever taller and more dense as plant and tree struggled and competed toward the life-giving light, as they do in the selva, or tropical rain forest. However, the types of tree described clearly belong to cool temperate forests; it seems, therefore, that the ecology of the whole central Forest must have been of a kind almost extinct in the world today, the temperate rain forest. It may be significant that it was within this ceaseless ferment of growth, fed by a constant cycle of rain and mist, that Tapiau was at his strongest, and that it was an ill clime for civilized men. It was no accident that Lys Arvalen was sited on higher ground, the foothills of the Meneth Aithen.

  These mountains were the only break in the rain forest, supporting a drier and sparser coniferous woodland that continued high up into the slopes of the range, yet their effect on rainfall patterns may have helped sustain it. Then as now, they must have been the tallest mountains in that land and a terrible obstacle to travelers, though one would not guess it from the brief account of the crossing the Chronicles supply, or from the extent to which the Forest is shown to dominate them. Evidently the Forest served the travelers as guide, for where it could grow unbroken the easiest passes must be, and spared them the dangers of the greater peaks. But their worries about food are no exaggeration; even for such hardened wanderers the crossing must have lasted many long days. Beyond the Meneth Aithen the land once again grew flatter, and in the central and southern regions the rain forest returned to dominance. In the far south the Forest is said to have become more like the complex tropical selva, but if the travelers ever went into that region it must have been in hunting parties from Lys Arvalen, for nothing is recorded. It is known that this jungle very soon thinned out into the Wastes; these began as arid scrubland, not unlike the utmost south of Bryhaine but without the rivers and coastal rains that kept that land fertile. And, as in Bryhaine, after no great distance the scrubland gradually dwindled to bare and searing desert, save where the great rivers of the east flowed to the sea. Such relatively swift progressions were undoubtedly a product of the glacial "compression" of climatic zones, described in volume one. The Wastes were no better places for men than the chill deserts of the north, although, like them, they were not without other inhabitants.

  THE EASTERN LANDS

  The Eastern Mountains were not as high as either the Meneth Scahas or the Meneth Aithen. But—contrary to what almost everyone seems to have assumed—they proved to be, if anything, a more effective natural barrier, not only to the physical spread of the Ice, but also to its equally lethal climatic effects. They ran at a sharp angle to the Ice, and somewhat further south; it had reached only their northernmost peaks, and would have required an immense effort to s
pread further into warm climes, without snowcaps to act as its vanguard. Most important of all, however, they were very broad; the fell winters windborne from the Ice, which had so diminished both the harvests and the spirits of the people of Morvan, could scarely cross them. More, they rose in a series of stepped ridges, which broke the impact of the ill winds, and made them spend their furies upon barren peaks instead of the rich land beyond. So it was that the Eastlands were shielded by land, and their coasts were well warmed by sea currents. But amid the shock of Morvan's fall, few if any realized this, or saw the Eastlands as a potential successor to that great realm.

  This was a legacy from the early days. Morvannec was the first settlement of men in Brasayhal; from there they had set out to discover the apparently more attractive lands west of the mountains, and founded Greater Morvan. Morvannec had dwindled as the fortunes of its descendant grew; when Morvan was at its height, it had become little more than a quiet and underpopulated port of passage for produce from the sea and the provincial farmlands. Even its princes spent more time in Morvan, necessarily so as the threat from the Ice appeared; Korentyn Rhudri was thought unusual in his care for Morvannec's interests. In this he was prompted by Vayde, who had a real affection for the town, and that is why his statue was set in the place of most honor by the harbor. Vayde may have been as farsighted in this as in other matters, for although they had been bypassed for the lands of Morvan, the Eastlands were potentially just as fertile. But craggy contours and woodland cover had made the Eastlands more suitable for a variety of smaller farms, rather than the rich monoculture the sothrans preferred; the plains of Morvan were flatter and easier to cultivate. Perhaps also the power of Tapiau was then stronger in the eastern woods, and his terrors guarded the trees. Certain it is that to the northern folk also the great expanses of hill and mountain north of the Waters, more thinly wooded, seemed more attractive places to settle.

  But with these lost the Eastlands had much to offer. The floodplains of the many rivers could yield ample grain and soft grazing, and the low hills around rich pastures, while steeper slopes offered hill hardier grazing, great store of timber, and the hunting that the northerners had excelled in since the days of Kerys. The sea also was rich, since the Ice had driven much of its life further south. But only after the founding of the realm of Morvanhal was the wealth of the East recognized, and turned wisely to account.

  THE ICE

  The accounts of the Ice in the Book of the Helm reflect a very different aspect of it from the cramped valley glaciation Elof and Kermorvan previously crossed. Here for the first time Elof encountered the true icesheet, and the massive Walls of Winter, the Fasguaith, the glacial cliffs that spearheaded its terrifying advance. Ils' description of Ice movement is—as one would expect from the duergar— substantially correct, particularly in seaboard climates such as the City by the Waters enjoyed. However, it is somewhat oversimplified; many other factors may speed up or slow down glacial advance. One such is known as basal slip; the sheer weight of ice may melt a thin film of water below the glacier, upon which it may slide forward with greatly reduced friction—exactly the same principle as skaters use, concentrating their body weight into thin knife edges. The rather incoherent account of Morvan's fall attributed to Korentyn may suggest something of what this effect could achieve over an already frozen smooth surface; some areas of the modern Antarctic icesheet are afloat on buried lakes. Another factor is the season: oddly enough, the icesheet may have advanced more quickly in summer than in winter. In colder weather the pressure melting may lessen and the glacier freeze more firmly to the ground beneath; this slows its advance, but makes it vastly more damaging, tearing away vast blocks of hard rock. Many mountains were leveled and the majority of major lakes excavated in this fashion. The debris, borne along on or ahead of the glacier wall, created rockfalls such as the one where Raven left the travelers, and is generally known as glacial till.

  MELTWATER

  Equally accurate is the description of meltwater effects. The sheer force of the water in such outflows is astonishing, and is often aided by the large amounts of rock debris they carry, which grinds away the ice in its path. They may flow over the glaciers, or out from underneath, and in doing so create tunnels even larger than the travelers found, up to some 250 feet across; the water pressure has been known to slant them upslope, as Ils suggests. Often they carve deep channels in the surrounding rock. Volcanic action under a glacier, often triggered by its pressure on the rock, can result in a truly explosive outburst, an erupting torrent of water and debris known in Iceland as a jokulhlaup.

  THE KING'S HILL (MORVAN)

  Such isolated outcrops as this are in fact not uncommon in ice sheets; their technical name is nunatak. The ravaged surface is characteristic. Its sudden flowering, however, is equally probable; many species of small plants and even insects have been found thriving on nunataks, perhaps sustained by the concentration of sunlight reflected off the surrounding ice. It has even been suggested by some theorists that they acted as refuges for many subarctic species during major glaciations, but this is uncertain. It was probably the existence of the hill gates that helped preserve the Catacombs so well, by allowing a flow of dry cold air along the passages; grave goods in tombs in the Andes and elsewhere have been similarly preserved.

  THE MAPS

  As the Book of the Sword made clear, the peoples of the Western Land of Brasayhal had grown very insular in the thousand years since the fall of Kerbryhaine. For the kindreds of men, all that lay east of the Meneth Scahas was a memory of loss, grief and dangers almost beyond comprehension, and they chose to blot it from their minds, and keep no maps; they thought never to return. The Duergar were less blinkered, but age upon age had passed since their first flight west, and they also had expected never to go back. The map accompanying the first volume represents the approximate extent of even their knowledge, and it had grown vague and general. Thus Kermorvan's journey was in every sense an exploration, and he knew little or nothing of what lands and conditions he might expect to find. Only on this second map is the full extent of Brasayhal shown; or rather, Brasayhal free of the Ice. For the rest of that great land lay dead and buried for a long age, and longer yet was to pass ere it saw the sun's light once more; and, as with the long dead, its aspect then was sadly changed.

  Some corrections have been made in the map—the full southward extent of the Meneth Scahas, for example, is shown, and the eastward margins of the Ice made clearer. For completeness' sake the main feature of the southeastern lands have been included, though they do not come into this tale.

  FLORA AND FAUNA

  The life of the Forest lands that dominate the Book of the Helm was undoubtedly much richer and more varied than the Westlands', but for the most part it still resembled modern forms closely enough to need little comment. Alongside them, however, many older and stranger creatures still dwelt, and not always by chance. At times, of course, the descriptions are not close enough to identify properly; for example, the flock of small birds through whom Tapiau spoke were very probably some variety of warbler, but it is impossible to tell. In one or two cases, however, some telling details can be picked out.

  DOMESTIC ANIMALS

  As a rule these are not described in detail, the authors no doubt assuming they would be familiar enough to readers. As they are; but a few exceptions remain.

  Ponies (Chapter 2) There were many distinct species of horse, small and large, in the land at this time; a few, such as Kermorvan's warhorse, had been introduced from Kerys, but most were native, and only recently domesti-

  cated, if at all. Such the company's mounts must have been, and unusually primitive to have retained the small side-hooves mentioned. In most horses of this time these remnants of the ancestral three-hoofed foot had already dwindled to mere splint bones. It is possible that they were some pony-sized breed of the older genus Hipparion, which was superseded by the more modern genus Equus at around this time.

  Musk-Oxen (Chapter
9) There seems to be no significant difference between these creatures and their modern descendants, the species Ovibos muschatus, either in appearance or behavior. They are members of the subfamily Caprinae, or goat-antelopes, a hardy group which flourished particularly during the Long Winters, and in the case of the musk-ox and its little-known cousin, the takin, grew to relatively giant size. It is, however, possible that this growth was a product of deliberate breeding by the duergar, and perhaps even the species as such, descended from one or other of the varieties of mountain-adapted goats they kept. Certainly the musk-ox takes more quickly to limited domestication than many other species.

  WILD ANIMALS

  Giant Horses (Chapter 2) The chance reference to these creatures is in fact borne out by other books of the Chronicles. Such beasts undoubtedly existed; almost certainly they were of the species Equus giganteus, one of the wild strains native to Brasayhal, rather than brought by men from Kerys, and larger than any horse now living. Once they ran wild over the grasslands of Morvan, and their strength, fierceness and untameability became proverbial; their herds must have been an awesome sight. In latter days some might still be found among other wild horses in the Open Lands, where predators were few; hence Kermorvan's confidence about the ponies.

  Giant deer (Chapter 4) These were undoubtedly true deer Cervidae, but not the most famous giant form, the so-called Irish "elk" Megaceros; it was never found in these lands. From the description, particularly the pendulous muzzle and cupped palmate antlers, the huge moose Cervalces is a more likely candidate; its antlers might have a span up to 12 feet.