How countless are your lanterns!
Where scores of stars, as dancers
Prance around in endless balls!
Merrily, your orbs dot the skies!
Blissfully, your cycles do swirl!
Your wandering globes as fireflies!
As dewfall are your heavens pearled!
Vast as the sea, as Ophir sublime!
Blessed are you, vaults of the world!
And the princess danced as Carmel-sun’s final rays filtered through the rosette. But Nod had grown wearied, and sought to rest her throat for a while:
“I am glad my words have pleased thee thus, oh great crizia! Yet let it be known that Ophir, thy realm, is so admired up on high as the heavens are here below. Sing me thou of the treasures of thy gilded home!”
The princess smiled, and went up again to her throne. Only then did the sylphid notice that the throne did not sit at the precise centre of the room, being slightly to the left. At the true centre of the hall, to the right of the throne, partially hidden by the veils running down from the baldachin, there was a pedestal with an ark. Inimois drew a key from a compartment in the throne, and opened the ark. From its depths she drew forth a bell jar, wherein there was a cushion with a tuft of hair pinned down:
“This is Amozia, the most sacred relic in Ophir. A lock of hair left by my beloved prince before he departed, to wage battle against the monsters in the Forbidden Lands. But I am getting ahead of myself. Here is how it all began. For millennia, I slumbered and grew inside a flower bud. When it blossomed, I had nothing with me but this lock of hair on my right hand. I do not know how it came to my possession; I do remember, though… so strange, like in a dream… that as I slept, the prince came to me and cut off this tuft from his strong mane, and handed it over as a memorial to hold on to, till the day when he returns and fulfills his vow to wed me.”
Inimois thus spake, now bereft of all her childishness. Her voice was now solemn as the voice of a Higher Sylph. And as she passed with the Amozia in her arms, all the mighty logizkal knelt before it.
Yet, even as the crizia wished to show Nod this treasure, the sylphid’s gaze was set on another thing. As the Amozia grew near the princess’ bosom, the crizia’s chest became translucent. From where she stood, Nod could perceive Inimois’ heart! As luminous as Ophir’s emblem it was, like unto a jewel of incalculable price. And, as wondrous as crizia’s stories could be, Nod did not listen. The sylphid bit her lips and pressed her chest as if taken by a harrowing pain she wished to hide. And the fallen star did not take her eyes from Inimois’ heart until the night fell.
Chapter
6
The Great Schism
As the crizia concluded her history of Ophir, Amizdel came forward and, kneeling, whispered to her. Inimois nodded, carried the Amozia back to the ark, and locked it therein:
“I hear that Talizima, Enoch’s venerable councilor, also has come to request an audience. Send him in.”
Talizima strode into the hall, and his steps thundered. To everyone’s astonishment, not to the princess did he go, but rather dashed towards his son with enraged eyes:
“Did I not tell you not to bring the sylphid here?! Why did you defy me?! Always the same, you! How could such recklessness be born from the seed of a councilor?!”
Before the stunned Skillotz could open his mouth, the princess interjected:
“My good councilor! Surely you have not forgotten your place?!”
“Oh, by Nebo, a thousand apologies, my lady!” he said, and he bowed in shame. But his eyes were still set on Skillotz, as if to say “Even now you embarrass me!”
“Why should your son not have brought the star hither? I was much overjoyed to see her!”
“Please do not misunderstand me, my lady! If this visit did bring you mirth, then I rejoice! But the sylphid bears a terrible prophecy, and the Council is convening as we speak to hearken to her and interpret her divination. I told my son to stay, since I expected the Council’s summons at any moment. Now that it came, Nod was nowhere to be found. So I flew here in haste!”
“You did well, and so did your son,” proclaimed the princess, smiling once more. “You are right that we should not keep the Council waiting. Let Nod depart with you, whilst your son and his friend shall be my guests for dinner.”
Talizima bowed, and turned back. Nod followed him for a few steps, but halted. She had remembered something important:
“Oh, ‘tis time.”
“Time for what, dear sylphid?” asked Inimois.
“Time to settle the wager.” She drew nearer Skillotz and Moruzio. “So, is there or is there not in Ophir anything that can compare with the heavenly wonders?”
Nod pondered for a moment, scratching her chin very delicately. One could not say if she was indeed pondering, or playing with the giants’ hearts, which grew keener and keener as time went by.
“Yea, ‘tis true. There is something I saw in Ophir which doth indeed surpass any celestial treasure.”
“Aha, I won! I won!!!” Skillotz jumped as a flea, quaking the ground, overflowing with joy. He had beaten Moruzio, who had contradicted him; and the sylphid had restored his honour, after his father had publicly humiliated him.
“Still thine heart, my dearest Skillotz! Thou hast not won thy wager yet.”
“Not?! But… how…?”
“‘Tis true, I found herein the most wondrous thing I have ever seen. Nevertheless, I had already seen this wonder before. And in the heavens I saw it, for this wonder dwelt there also once upon a time.”
Skillotz and Moruzio looked at each other in amazement. What could these words possibly mean? Was she talking about Amozia? So overwhelmed were they, they did not even notice how Nod had grown nearer, smiling naughtily. Then Nod smacked a gentle kiss upon both of their foreheads, and went out, triumphant. Nod had won the wager.
***
Outside of the crizia’s palace, three hippogriffs awaited. White caparisons, embroidered with Melchy-Zedek’s blue insignia, covered their loins. One hippogriff carried the Council’s herald on its saddle. The second was for Talizima. The final one was meant for Nod—though she declined it, for she preferred to fly on her own. Ere long, they were soaring through the ophirian firmament. And Nod’s glow could be seen through the palace’s stained glass, rising higher and higher over the skies, as a second sunrise.
“At last! At last some action we see!” sighed Moruzio, relieved, as he was ushered into the banquet hall.
As for Nod and Talizima, they flew the whole span of Thebel in the course of that one night. Now and again, Nod’s face would turn damp, and she knew not why. Even with her glow, she perceived but little below, apart from some scattered village lights. It was too dark. So thick lay the darkness that they would certainly have gone astray if not for Melchy-Zedek’s herald flying before them—he alone, and the hippogriffs, knew the route by heart.
Soon, though, the gloom gave way to dawn. Carmel-sun broke through triumphantly from the horizon on their right. Only then did Nod understand whence the moisture came. Scarcely a few giant feet above their heads hung patches of clouds, the waterskins wherewith the aerial sylphids carried the waters from the seas, to empty them upon the lands as fertile rains. These rains drove Nod’s eyes downward, where she saw the greenness of Thebel, with uncountable grass blades crowned with lachrymal pearls. The soil rejoiced as the water refreshed its most secret crevices. Upon the whole land, extending from horizon to horizon, lay a carpet, patched with different tones of green, intertwined with strings of living waters, brooks, creeks, and rivers.
Ere long, however, all of this greenness would end, and so would their journey. For Iperborea, the far north, was at hand, and after this lay only sea. They flew above the Corona Boreal, with its peaks resembling the spikes of a royal crown. This mountain range dammed up the clouds coming from the ocean, so that there was always rain falling somewhere along its expanse. The melchin, for their part, had built a complex of aqueducts to gather
all this abundance of water. The fliers followed along the waterways, and arrived at the northern cape, where Melchy-Zedek lay.
They landed at the city’s southern gate. Melchy-Zedek was not, to be sure, as ostentatious as Ophir; yet still it was something to behold. The houses, smaller than the ones at Ophir but larger than those of Enoch, were smooth and white, encrusted with shells and pebbles collected at the shore, arranged in undulating patterns. Every corner was pregnant with a smell of salt wafting in from the sea.
Once inside the city, the aqueducts branched into many arteries, so that each street had its own stream. They were built a few feet above the road, and kept the waters perpetually flowing through slopes so slight they were almost imperceptible. There was no house so far away from one of those streams that any of the city’s inhabitants could not gather water at his doorstep. But some of the main aqueducts plunged downward, so as to strengthen the water flow and make it gush out in jets from the fountains in the squares; these jets then poured down through a series of steps, like unto miniature waterfalls. This water did also provision the pools and public baths where the logizkal gathered for relief from the heat.
At the northern end of the city there was a bay, and at its centre an isle, wherein the cothon palace had been built. Before stepping onto the holy bridge leading to the isle, Talizima performed a ritual cleansing: There were pools filled with fresh water, wherein the councilors should wash their hairs, and beards, and hands, and feet before proceeding. Nod stood there, admiring the ritual with great interest. When Talizima asked her if she would like to cleanse herself as well, she declined—as she was not made of corporeal matter, there was no danger of her bringing any filth with her which would defile the sanctuary.
They entered the cothon. Most of the councilors had arrived the day before, so the Council was as good as convened. Only the star had been absent, and without her there was no order of business. Now Nod had arrived. She was met with many eyes, both intrigued and worried. The Council could begin.
The pontiff was informed of the sylphid’s arrival and rushed to the cothon. This was the first time Bilidio inaugurated a Council session. From the pulpit he addressed the assembly thus:
“Hail, oh most hallowed chamber, ispariz tecum frens! Most of you must already know why I have summoned you hither with such haste, when the Council had barely been adjourned. Yet for the benefit of those who are not yet acquainted with the new developments, allow me to explain: I have been informed by our venerable brother, Talizima of Enoch, that an ethereal sylphid descended from the heavens to deliver us a message. I do believe her words may shed some light on the events which have caused so much stir some time ago, when Faris-Romil was still amongst us. Let us hear her, then.” And he entreated her to take the tribune, as he descended to his chair to listen.
Nod accepted his invitation, and stood hovering a few feet above the pulpit. Her light filled up the entire room. She looked around, and saw all those eyes famished for her words. She took a deep breath. And exhaled. And, then spake:
“Hail, oh powers and lords amongst the mortals. I am Nod, daughter of Megiddo, and I hail from the heavenly courts. As you know, a great darkness covered the celestial dome, not many days ago. I pray you, let me enlighten you about the cause of such dreadful occurrence.”
She gulped, and inhaled once more. The tidings were dismal, indeed:
“Salem, the Queen of the Stars, hath perished.”
A great murmur filled the hall, even as the star’s light had filled it up before. So whispered was this murmur, it was even deafening. A memory assailed Bilidio’s mind: his horror as he saw the sacred fires gone out at the temple’s altars. This, then, was the cause: for these sacred fires were linked to the light of the star whom they mirrored and served.
“The heavens are, at this moment, without queen nor king,” continued Nod, forcing her voice over the murmurs. “There is chaos and war amongst the celestial mansions. The Higher Sylphs vie amongst themselves over who shall take the crown. Till their contention be settled, or till Aigonz himself cometh to Dumah to end the hostilities, this feud shall spread to all creatures, even the logizkal. Allegiances and sides are set as swiftly as they fall. You cannot look upon the heavens to find counsel or succour, for you cannot know who is friend or foe. But hark! Greater woe yet follows!”
The murmur amongst the giants ceased. They thirsted for more words. And Nod moistened her lips with her tongue as if she thirsted as well:
“In the midst of such ugly disputes, all secrets are revealed, no matter how hidden. This is what I heard: The Age of the Logizkal is at an end! Yet this would have come to pass, even had Salem not perished, for this is the sad fate of mortals, predestined since the creation of Dumah. Know ye this: Aigonz shall deliver you into the hands of a race to-be, who shall arise in a generation or two, and take Thebel out of your hands, leaving you empty handed. The foundations of your wondrous cities shall crumble, and be as dust. No stone will be left unturned. And ye yourselves shall be exterminated from the face of the earth, with all your glory and your wisdom.”
The councilors felt as if the ground beneath the cothon had collapsed, and the ocean below had opened its maw and swallowed them whole into a void of darkness. Inside these forlorn depths, no light could be seen, not a glimmer of hope; an icy cold froze their limbs, and numbed them, so that they could not escape however much they struggled. And the more they struggled, the more they suffocated. They were powerless! Powerless before this accursed prophecy! They had been plunged into a new world, ruled by completely different laws.
“What race shall that be, oh star?” asked one of the councilors. “Will they be greater giants even than us?”
“I know not if you are ready for such knowledge, oh noble councilors,” Nod replied. “But if you must know, I shall tell you. ‘Tis the race of men, the ophalin!”
At that moment, the tongue of the Council was freed of all rules or courtesy. The noise was not just murmurs now, but a thunder of voices echoing through the assembly, intersecting and muffling each other so that they did not quite seem to make sense:
“It is not possible, we cannot believe it, there is only one ophalin, it is our dear crizia, she would not do that, how can they triumph over us, they are so puny, there is only one, they could not possibly overcome us, when will this be, how is it possible?!”
“Your crizia seemeth a gentle soul to me,” answered Nod, “though gentleness may be deceiving. But whether her descendants be big or small, or whether Inimois shall lead them into battle or not, of one thing rest ye assured: Her seed shall wage war against your seed. And if they do, so ‘tis foretold: ‘Twill be your seed who shall fall.”
Then a councilor from the south rose from his seat. His temperament was most choleric: He would never resign himself to a fate plotted by the stars. If the future be a shipwreck, he would not be content with floating above the surface, at the mercy of the waves and currents. Nay, he would swim towards salvation, even if he knew not which direction to take—even if it meant swimming towards the depths. And this councilor’s name was Garazin.
“We have heard the sylphid! We must protect ourselves from this threat! Let us slay Inimois before she breeds!”
There was another councilor there who had felt the same feeling of desperation. His temperament, though, was more melancholic in nature; his name was Perezim, and this was his reply:
“To what end?” he said, as he felt the tentacles of the deep gripping his heart. “If such was decreed by Aigonz, whose very thought rules the cosmos, what is the point in fighting against it?”
“My dear councilors, hark!” said Nod, with an appeasing gesture of arms. “‘Tis only written that the ophalin will put an end to the logizkal. However, such tragedy is not unavoidable. For how could the prophecy come to be, if there were no ophalin to put an end to the logizkal?”
“We hear you, Nod, daughter of Megiddo!” said the hot-blooded Garazin. “What are we waiting for? The decision is clear!” Ye
t his passionate words did not seem to gather support, especially amongst the northerners.
“Why is the pontiff silent?” others cried. “We need his leadership! Oh, venerable Bilidio, what say you of all these things? Speak!”
Bilidio had stayed his voice till then, his eyes closed in contemplation, his brows twisting with discernment, his fingers caressing the wisdom of his long, white beard. But now, his voice was needed, and his eyes opened, and he got up from his hallowed seat. Slowly, he rose to the pulpit, and asked Nod if he could take the stand. And she, most considerately, allowed him to have it. She kept floating in the air to his left.
“I have heard your words with much attention and concern, venerable Nod. I thank you for all the aid you have offered us in our distress. Yet vouchsafe to answer me this question. If the heavens are in such disarray, why did you come down to deliver this message? Why not rather stay with your kind to help seek peace?”
“Venerable Pontiff! Thou hast not seen what I have seen! I strove to bring my brethren to reason! To no avail! Their ears are deaf with anger! However, their lifetimes span millennia: This war will surely be no more than a mere flicker in their long existences. Are not mortal lives more fragile, and therefore more valuable? I came to protect you, for I would not see you abandoned to your fate.”
“Of such abandonment there is much to say. If Aigonz would abandon us, then all our knowledge has been predicated on a lie.”
“Yet is not thy knowledge a simple grain of sand compared with the whole knowledge of the universe?”
“Indeed, but it is a solid grain of sand. Otherwise, what is left for us? You have said that we cannot look up to the stars, for we cannot distinguish between friend or foe.”
“So I did.”
“In so doing, you have impugned your own authority and testimony. You are a star as well! If we cannot know if stars be friend or foe, how can we be certain of your own friendship? Why should we gaze upon you and not your sisters?”
Ironcraft Page 7