Ironcraft

by Pedro Gabriel

  Nod trembled. She did not expect such an answer. She lowered her head and raised her hands towards her chest in deep sorrow:

  “What proof have I given of my enmity? I came here to warn you, and aid you. But if thou seest me as a foe, say so, and I shall retreat somewhere where thou wilt never hear of me again. Let it be known, though, that such would cause me great heartbreak, just as the words thou hast spoken to me today.”

  “My dearest, I spake these things not because I mistrust you, but to show the unsteady position on which you place us. I am trying to ponder all possibilities, nothing more. My sylphology is not enough to know what to do when star contradicts star. But as for Aigonz…”

  Another southern councilor, named Virzunz, raised his voice as he rose from his seat:

  “If Aigonz so ordained that you would take your own life, would you obey? And yet, is this not what you may well be doing? This star, at least, has given us an explanation for the bad omen we saw some nights ago! Not only an explanation, but a solution as well. As for Aigonz, what explanation has he given? Who has heard his voice, him who remains outside of Dumah’s boundaries?”

  “Do not blaspheme, venerable brother,” Bilidio rebuked him. “Is this solution enough for you to sacrifice a life? Yes, sweet Inimois’ life, whom we saw grow up in the streets of this very city? Inimois, who never harmed us? Must I remind you that she is the crizia? Would you lay a finger on the daughter of Aigonz himself?”

  “So there it is!” shouted Garazin, opening his eyes wide in sudden realization. “That is the reason! That is why Aigonz is on the side of the ophalin! He has delivered us unto the hands of the sons of his daughter! He has let us raise the one whose seed would ultimately crush us! Aigonz has betrayed us! What do we owe him then, to submit ourselves to him?”

  “What you owe him is all you have, for he created you, and everything in your life!” replied the pontiff.

  “This pontiff seeks to shepherd us towards doom! Shame! Shame!” cried the southern councilors in unison.

  “Be still, mortals!!!” cried Nod, and her light flashed, as her voice thundered. And both the flashing and the thundering lingered through the hall, echoing, after the Council had gone silent, echoing after all of them had shuddered, echoing, as she gasped to regain her breath, echoing, echoing… echoing…

  … Till the sylphid found in herself the strength to proceed once again:

  “‘Twas said I had a solution for your problem! Not so! This solution cometh from your own deductions, not from me! I simply brought you the message. I fulfilled my mission; it befalleth upon you to find the solution. As for me, I shall support you in whatever ye decide. For ye have been pawns in celestial games for far too long. Now, ‘tis time for you to be served by the stars, not serve them.”

  As Nod’s voice had echoed through the Council chambers, so now echoed applause, mainly from the south. Amidst the claps, it was possible to hear Virzunz saying:

  “What other proof do we need of this star’s friendship?”

  ***

  The discussion continued throughout the day, and even through the twilight, into night’s domain. But as discussion moved forward, it seemed like it did not move at all. For as never before since the foundation of the Republic, discord had made herself a guest in the assembly’s house. And Bilidio feared another guest would soon come knocking at the door: violence, discord’s most faithful follower. The pontiff realized the futility, and even danger, of proceeding with the session, so he determined to adjourn:

  “Venerable brethren, the night hurries on, and yet we come no closer to any conclusion. Let us distance ourselves a little, so that we may with fresher heads ponder the best course to take. Let us return each one to his own settlement. As I close this session, I open a season of discernment to all. Meditate on what you have heard, and discuss it also with your judges. When Ararat-moon has completed a cycle of her nocturnal metamorphosis, we shall meet again. So let it be done.”

  Thus he thought to pour refreshing water on the blaze raging amongst the spirits of the logizkal. But Garazin would not be so easily put off:

  “Everyone here already grasped where your heart leans, oh Bilidio! We can decide tonight! But you wish to delay such a decision, because you seek not to accept it. Dear brethren, you will all see—I can promise you, or even wager my head on it—even if we convene this most hallowed Council seven times, not even then will you have a sentence.”

  Only then did Talizima of Enoch speak, for the first time since the meeting started:

  “I see and understand my northern brethren’s vacillation. It is, truly, a hard decision. Nevertheless, is it not unfair that we, the southerners, must bear the burden of your indecision, and not you yourselves?”

  “What do those words mean?!” asked Bilidio, growing in impatience.

  “Ophir, the crizia’s realm, stands at the door of my town! If the ophalin do arise, and if they do wage war against the giants, then we shall be massacred first, whilst you here at the north will have time to prepare at the expense of our shed blood!”

  “I hear you now, and better understand your need,” answered Bilidio. “Yet I assure you, I have no wish to sacrifice you to save Iperborea. As a pontiff, I must safeguard the well-being of all the Republic, with no exception. All towns are equal in my concern.”

  “You speak well,” replied Talizima once more. “Yet it must be noted: If it is the duty of the pontiff to consider all towns as equal, it is less true that all towns are equal as far as choosing pontiffs goes. When was the last time a pontiff hailed from the south?”

  Talizima meant this as an affront, and as an affront it was received. From the other side of the room, Ranskil railed:

  “A pontiff from the south? Preposterous! When has the south bore anything good? What would be next? A monster-pontiff from the Forbidden Lands? Please, let us not defile this honourable office with the offspring of Kolezin, a brood of cowardice and mediocrity.”

  “For the love of Nebo, be silent, brother!” Bilidio scolded him, but it was too late. Ranskil and Garazin were already at each other’s throats. And then would blood have been spilled there, the first ever in Dumah, if their fellow councilors did not rush to part them asunder.

  “Enough!!!” the pontiff yelled, his lungs taken with despair. Through an unknown miracle, his wish was granted: The Council was silent at that very instant. Yet Bilidio would regret this, for the sudden silence would allow a single sentence, more delayed than all the others, to echo through the vastness of the hall:

  “How I miss Faris-Romil! He was a true pontiff!”

  These words pierced Bilidio’s heart as a poisonous dagger. They took his thoughts hostage, and they stormed his soul. The pontiff’s voice was just a tremulous shadow, when he proclaimed:

  “I had decreed this session to be over, and so shall it be done. Now return to your homes at once, until the prescribed days have come to pass.”

  Garazin was about to protest once more, but Talizima took him aside and whispered to his ear:

  “It is not wise to protest too much. Let the iperborin not be too conscious of our sentiments towards the crizia or Ophir. For we cannot trust them, and they may actually hinder our plans by warning our enemies. Let them think they have tamed us, so they will not be a stumbling block while we operate in the shadows.”

  Garazin heard him, and said to the pontiff:

  “We accept the decision of this most hallowed chamber.” And they all withdrew.

  As for Nod, she followed Talizima, her host, but not without bidding her farewells to the pontiff with a respectful bow:

  “A thousand apologies for everything that happened. I cannot but feel that, at least in part, this was my fault. I assure thee my intentions were pure. I still believe hope is not lost for the logizkal.”

  The pontiff reciprocated her bow, more out of instinct than out of reflection. He was unwell, and needed to leave. Since he had heard those vile words, he had felt the life seeping away from his limbs. T
hese words had played on a sensitive, fragile chord of his soul. Yea, verily, Bilidio was haunted by the vast shadow cast by Faris-Romil, his mighty predecessor. Since Bilidio was elected pontiff, he dreaded the day he would hear the words he had just heard. Yet not even in his worst nightmares would he have imagined he would hear them during his first Council. He gasped for fresh air. He dragged himself to the pontifical house, and rested on the balcony of his chamber—the same where Faris had witnessed the fateful night. The night sky crept onto the horizon. The stars were clearly visible.

  “I do not understand… there seems to exist no tumult in the heavenly vaults,” said the pontiff.

  ***

  As the stars lit up in the sky, the lights at Melchy-Zedek’s windows extinguished themselves one by one. And the night unraveled a slithering fog coming from the sea, as the sea roared as a lion famished for prey.

  Shrouded by this fog, the discontented councilors from the south gathered. Whereas all the other councilors had already departed, these had decided to stay at Melchy-Zedek for the night. They paid for lodging, but did not seem to make use of their beds. Rather, they sought the company of each other, and of the fog, for there was unrest in their hearts. Since the Council would not lend them its ears, they would fashion their own Council. So they did, in a window-less, door-less, ear-less alley. The water gurgled in a channel nearby, as it drained to the underground sewage of the city, and muffled the discussion of this new-born Council.

  “So, how do we decide?” asked Virzunz. “Do we openly attack Ophir, or do we murder the crizia through subtler means?”

  “I believe we must act cautiously,” answered Talizima, “After all, it is true not one has inflicted death on another rational being since the beginning, be it logizkal or ophalin. Who knows the consequences of such a deed? Let us not rush to do it, for it does not cease to be a wicked act.”

  “Are you on their side too, brother?” protested Garazin. “Then what do you do here? Spying on us, are you?”

  “Be at peace, Garazin,” replied Talizima once again. “I agree that we must not let ourselves be trampled by the crizia’s seed. However, I propose we act not offensively, but defensively.”

  “How are we to do that?” Perezim asked, and turned to Nod with all the others. “Can you help us, oh star who brightens our dark future?”

  She tenderly smiled, and sprinkled her light upon them:

  “Ye know I will. Ye can always count on me to aid you, and comfort you.”

  Chapter

  7

  Iron

  The next morn, Melchy-Zedek granted hippogriffs and guides to the southern councilors. So did Talizima fly back to Enoch once more, and Nod on his tail. But as home grew nigh, more distant grew the sylphid’s flight. Talizima felt the coldness of her distance, and bid Nod to come nearer, but she simply shook her head.

  “What is the matter, oh sylphid?”

  “Didst thou not ask for my aid? Trust me.” She glanced at the melchin guide, hinting at Talizima she did not wish to say more in front of someone else. “Follow thy path without me, for at Enoch we will meet once again.”

  She spake, and was not there. No more would mortal eyes see her till she would desire to manifest herself. Talizima, on his part, did not dare disobey the star, and asked the guide to proceed.

  When the councilor arrived at his homeland, Enoch swarmed around him to know more about the prophecy and the Council’s decision. But Talizima would not say a word until the melchin guide was sent away. Only when untrustworthy ears were at a safe distance, did Talizima say:

  “We must convoke the judges at once. Send all of them to my house, so we may deliberate!”

  Skillotz answered unto him:

  “I am afraid such will not be possible, father.”

  “What?! Why is it so?”

  “Kolinzio is gone. By Aigonz’s ecstasy has he been enraptured.”

  “Aigonz’s ecstasy” was a state in which the logizkal fell from time to time, without any warning or deed on their part. The giant’s fore-eye would be struck by a strange light, a light orphaned of any known star. The sages would say this light came from outside Dumah itself, from the Blessed Realm beyond the cosmos, where Aigonz dwells. However, no one knew for sure from whence such light came. What they did know was its effects on the giant it struck. He would be taken by inspiration, similar to the one of the Poet, when he composed the Song of Songs in the age before all ages. The giant would commune with the Song, becoming one with it, and be filled with such serene bliss, he could not think of anything else but to give form to this sudden inspiration. The giant would then go in pilgrimage near the sea, and there would collect and amass clay into a form with head and limbs and body, though smaller in size. One would say, this earthen effigy would be of the same size of a man of today. After hewing this clay sculpture, the giant would be taken aback by the beauty of his creation, and his dazzled fore-eye would release a tear, and this tear would fall on the statue and give it life. This is how giants gave birth to new giantkind.

  “This is no time for Aigonz’s ecstasy!” Talizima protested. “Calamity and betrayal fall upon us, and Kolinzio is nowhere to be found!”

  “Father, why do you need judges? You have the ears of the whole town! Speak with us and we shall advise you!”

  Indeed, apart from Kolinzio, all of Enoch was there. There were the other judges, and Skillotz, and Moruzio, and all the others. And they were all thirsty for news. Talizima resigned himself with a sigh, and placed himself before the enochin crowd:

  “Hail Enoch, keen village. I have returned from the northern lands with the tidings you desired so to hear. Let me begin by relaying to you Nod’s prophecy, as she in turn has relayed it to the Council. As it seems, the Age of the Logizkal is nearing its end. Aigonz himself delivered us to a cruel fate, that we should be superseded by another race. The stars will not avail us then, since they are not greater than Aigonz. Furthermore, the stars are also involved in problems of their own making, since Salem is dead and there is no agreement amongst them of who shall be her heir. But I digress from the most important thing—our own destiny. Now, let it be known amongst you that this future race that will conquer us and destroy us is none other than the offspring of our once-beloved Crizia Inimois, lady of Ophir, our neighbour.”

  There was much commotion amongst the enochin. They were expecting the unexpected, but nought as unexpected as this. Talizima sought to silence them, for his words were not yet fully spent:

  “Let me now tell you about what the Council decided. It seems our pontiff Bilidio is not sure of what to think about all these things, nor does he know how to act upon them. For the second time he adjourned the Council without a glimpse of decision. Notwithstanding, some consensuses were already crystallized within the great assembly. The northern councilors do not seem inclined to do anything that would prevent this terrible fate from being fulfilled. As for the southern councilors, we concluded that this lack of expediency comes from the iperborin’s distance from Ophir. For if they find Ophir so far away from them, and so close to ourselves, they can build their defense on the warning given by our bloodshed. So, I have established an alliance with some of my fellow councilors—Garazin of Tubal-Kain, Virzunz of Iabal, and also Perezim of Iubal. We will take provisions against this stark future.”

  After hearing these words, Enoch cried a great clamour:

  “And where is Nod, the only star who has come down from heaven to be with us? Where is the only immortal being who extended her friendly hand against the conspiracies of the ethereal ones? Where is she and her aid in this dark hour? Help us, oh star, do not abandon us too!”

  As an icy darkness seemed to crawl up their legs and up into their hearts, on a sudden they saw Nod’s light, and felt her warmth descending upon them. Nod arrived just as they invoked her, and she came smiling, as usual. She was grabbing her gown and extending it forward with her arms, as if forming a pouch on her lap—on this improvised marsupium she seemed to carry a h
eavy load.

  “Hail Nod!” clamoured Enoch once more. “Please grant us your blessings!”

  And the sylphid, ever solicitous, delivered unto them the gifts she carried on her dress. Into the hands of Talizima, the councilor, did she deliver them: a stack of rocks, but unlike any previously known to them. They had a firmness to them, harder than any other rock ever seen… and what else was there in the world harder than rocks? Yet in spite of their strength, these stones seemed somehow dented and misshapen, as if some unknown force had hammered them in a most chaotic way. What power could have damaged such a hard substance so? Only thinking about it made the giants’ spines shiver, for it should be a supernatural power indeed. In some of the edges, it even seemed like the stones had been gnawed upon, as a worm-infested fruit. Pricked as the marrow of a bone, amorphous as melted honey, grey as the fog over the ocean: So were the mysterious rocks Nod had brought on her lap.

  “These stones came from on high,” the star explained, as she saw the confusion on the giants’ faces. “I dragged them on the pleats of my tunic as I rushed over the lower skies. As they flew with me, with me they fell. There, at the site of my fall, did I find these. But there are more, many more. If ye go thither, ye will find many of these stones, some as big as fists, some small as pebbles.”

  Skillotz approached and asked what everyone else was wondering:

  “Oh star, surely these rocks are astounding. Yet in what way can they help our desperate cause?”

  “This, my lord, is called ‘iron.’ ‘Tis one of the hardiest elements of all Dumah. For ye know of gold and bronze, but not this. ‘Tis a yet unknown treasure to you. Therefore, ye know not of its extraordinary properties and usefulness. With this iron, ye may forge armours to protect your bodies, and shields to defend yourselves against the ophalin’s vicious blows. I shall teach you the art of ironcraft. Ye shall master this most unruly substance, and mold it according to your whims. And when the iron ye have formed hath cooled, your wills shall become engraved in it, and no foe will be able to break or twist it.”