The Runes of Norien
Page 33
According to an apocryphal text of the Norienic cosmogony, kept scrupulously secret because it was considered extremely (if not dangerously) heretical, before the world was created there existed only One God, the God of Fate and Chance, who begat the Other Two. But whereas the First God had allowed the nascent cosmos to behave as its countless entities dictated or desired, never intervening no matter how unruly the worlds and their creatures, the Begotten Gods of Life and Death revolted against their Maker and demanded that order be restored to the universe, and that the chaos yield to their will. Yet over time, ruling the Ever-Shifting Sphere and its progeny like ruthless tyrants, they became blinded by their power to be the beginning and the end, to give life and take it away. And so the God of Fate and Chance decided to blind them for good, and stole their eyes, and hid them in the one fragment of Norien that had escaped before being shaped by the Begotten Gods in Their image, and which had since then fled far, far away, to the edge of everything and nothing. This distant world was called Erat Rin, the Forgotten Sphere, and despite its smallness it was believed to harbour not merely Two but all Three Runes, for the First God, to further punish Its arrogant Offspring, had chosen this tucked-away, seemingly abandoned star as Its dwelling.
However, if the Runes of Norien were truly hidden in so remote and unstable a realm, one governed solely by wild chance and unknowable fate, it meant that if Erat Rin was somehow or other destroyed, it would bring about the End of All Reality.
“And thus, ever since the Gods of Life and Death lost their all-seing powers,” Huxor said, still speaking in a hushed, almost fearful voice, “sages and seers in all three realms – even the Circle, made up of Lurien’s wisest dwellers – have been harkening to any grave change in the Ever-Shifting Sphere, hoping that they may be able to tell from it whether Erat Rin is in any danger, even though nothing concrete is known about it, nor would it ever be possible to avert our doom if its eventuality lay in the destiny of the Forgotten Sphere. However, there have been signs, since ancient times, which mystics familiar with this particular version of our past take to be reflections of catastrophes that struck Erat Rin, and which brought the rest of Norien to the brink of ruin. For instance, the Disaster that destroyed most of Feerien, or our own fall from the Gods’ grace to this gloomy world we call home.”
Listening to the old Ponderer’s narrative, Wixelor had been growing steadily afraid, and by the time he reached the part about the world’s potential obliteration, he was on the verge of panic – because from the depths of his mind there suddenly rose the memory of hundreds of recent dreams, dreams of Lurienites and Feeres to which he’d barely paid attention at the time, but which now weighed on his heart like a veritable quarry of black stones. And since it was only fair that he repay the favour of Huxor’s elucidation, Wixelor told him how both Lurien and Feerien had been and still were in a state of dire disquiet, the former stricken by infertility and the latter by a suspension of life and death alike; how a hole had appeared in the immaculate sky of the Sphere of Untouch and how the Sphere of Toil was dreading the return of the evil Seventh Moon. And as he spoke, his own voice now hardly more than a terrified whisper, he saw the dread leap from his soul and take hold of the Ponderer’s withered face.
Then suddenly Huxor started muttering to himself, “Nowhere... of course... for nowhere lies between life and death... out of nowhere we spring forth and into nowhere we return... and what could be a clearer manifestation of nowhere than a world that can never be reached or known, and yet holds the power to let us live or perish...”
And before Wixelor could draw back, Huxor had grabbed him by his shirt and was shaking him and raving, “You must prevent this! You must! There are still so many questions that haven’t been answered, so much wisdom! It can’t go to waste, it can’t!”
“But what could I possibly do?” Wixelor cried, trying to free himself from the Ponderer’s grasp. “I deal with nothing but dreams! How am I to travel where no one can and stop what the Gods Themselves are unable to stop? All I can do is sit and watch!”
“You have to go find Zaepix!” Huxor said, releasing him with such force that Wixelor fell back onto the hard ground. And by the time he got to his feet, the Ponderer was once more up and about, pacing frantically and mumbling to himself.
“Wait! Who is this Zaepix?” Wixelor said.
“He’s a Foreseer!” Huxor said, without turning to face him. “The best of them all! He can tell you if the end is near, and how it may be averted!”
“But what Foreseer will consent to allow me on his island out of nowhere? And even if he does, what am I to tell him?”
“Tell him I sent you!” Huxor said, walking in circles and holding his head as if it were about to burst. “Zaepix is my son!”