by Jake Yaniak
If you were to follow the southward course of the Gavl River, which comes from the streams of Mount Gavl, you would come, after twenty-five leagues, to the region of Galva-la and the city of Galva which rules over the descendents of Galvahir. After passing through the city, the Gavl opens up and becomes a lake, which after twenty leagues or so flows into the land of Oastir-la. After fifty leagues, Gavl narrows once again and rushes out of the land of the Oastirne into the valley of the Vivlirne, which is called Vivlir-la. Due to their advantageous position, the Vivlirne profit the most from the trade that flows down the Gavl on the way to the Falsi River. Dae-la and Lavri-la also did a considerable amount of commerce with the neighboring peoples, but the bulk of Noras' resources came from Galva-la, Oastir-la, and Vivlir-la. For this reason, and because of the renowned strength of their warriors, these clans were at times called the Pillars of Noras; it was said that it was, 'upon their shoulders that the structure had been built and preserved.'
It was common in the Noras Forest to find maps drawn of their realm depicting their borders as different parts of one great tree. The eastern and western lands were green boughs hanging low, while the 'Pillars' ran up the middle along the Gavl River to form the all-supporting trunk. This was called the 'Tree of Noras' and it was embroidered on all of their banners and painted on the fronts of all their shields.
The Libron River originates on Mount Libros and flows gently down through the hills and cut its way south for a hundred leagues before it split into its two branches, the Southern Libron and the Daeva Libron. The Daeva Libron ran almost due east and gathered in the great lake of Daeva, where the city of the same name was built. The Southern Libron continued south until it joined with the Falsi River, which flowed from Mount Coronis. At the very point where these two rivers met, Dadron the Great was built.
Were I to write all that could be written about that city I suspect there would be no end to the books that I could pen. But by the time of my story, Dadron's glory was past and its original inhabitants had either been slain or driven deep into exile.
The Falsi River flowed down from Mount Coronis in a powerful torrent and cut its way through rock and hill making its way east toward the sea. After about one hundred and fifty leagues it joins with the Gavl River, which originates in the north, and these two wind their way southeast until they join with the Southern Libron in Dadron.
Falsis was once a prominent country with traders and merchants coming from all over Tel Arie. But the terrible wars of the last age had essentially cut them off from the rest of the world. In the conflagration that engulfed the region much of the history and sciences of Dadron were lost, and so most of the inhabitants of Falsis now had only a very imperfect notion of what lay outside their mountainous borders. The general belief was that to the north, beyond the Rocky Coast, was the end of the world or the land of the gods. To the south beyond the Solsis mountains they were convinced lay the ruined cities of the Ancients, filled with monsters and treasures and every other inhabitant of dreams and fairy-tales. To the east they were pretty sure there was an island called Kollun where they had something they called 'Democracy', but none of them properly understood the meaning of this. And beyond Kollun lay the ancient homeland of all mankind in Olgrost.
To the west was the Amla wilderness and the immense Amlaman Kingdom. Merchants and traders still traveled to and from Amlaman each springtime and harvest bringing furs from Noras and returning with spices and fruits from Amlaman. Beyond Amlaman, somewhere on the northwestern coast of Weldera, was the pirate city of Titalo. Most of what was commonly believed about this place was the result of imagination rather than truth, but the occasional sighting of 'golden-headed barbarians' sailing past the northern coasts was enough to keep this idea alive in the hearts and fears of the Noras. But the only real enemy the Noras had, at least at this particular time in history, were the goblins.
For some reason goblins love mountains. Since the ancient times they have survived in considerable numbers in the high-places of the Coronan Mountains. Despite several major campaigns aimed at their elimination they continued to thrive in the northwestern portion of the range where it is difficult for human armies to march. Occasionally one of these large groups would begin raiding Noras villages, usually during winter months when they lacked food or clothing. These were dealt with harshly; the only adequate solution seemed to be annihilation. So those tribes of goblins that remained would learn by experience, that is, by the experience of those goblins that were destroyed, to keep away from the humans.
So when the scouts returned to Galva Hall, just two days before Daryas' seventeenth birthday, the Galva Council was called to an emergency meeting. It had been a particularly harsh winter and they could not leave the crimes committed by these desperate creatures unrequited. In only a matter of two days, the Council decided on war.
The Spirit Mityai
Though he could not see her, Daryas was being watched the whole while by a slender sprite named Mityai, who lay hidden behind a tree. It was habit alone that made her hide, for no mortal eyes would be able to see her either by the light of moon or of the sun. Through the whole night she remained motionless; silently watching him as he fought a fierce battle against his own weariness. But the moment she saw the sun rise over the eastern hills she darted away, leaving Daryas and Sion behind. Her swift feet carried her down the hillside and across the Falsi River toward the Noras forest. As she passed through the woods she left in her wake a swift but gentle breeze, barely enough to knock the dried leaves from the branches as she sped through.
She came upon a clearing and stopped suddenly when she saw a farmer with his sons cutting down a tall fir tree. Without a sound she leaped out of sight and hid her invisible body behind the trunk of a tree. There she stayed for some time until she could convince herself that the man and his boys had not noticed her. When all their heads were turned she sprung from her hiding place and darted past them. Her passing made no sound at all and left nothing in its wake save the gentle shuddering of a few fallen leaves.
When her swift feet had come to the western shores of the Gavl River she turned abruptly and darted to the north. She did not stop running even when she came to the great wall of South Lake, the famous dam that held back the Gavl and formed the Gavl Lake.
The lake itself had been formed by the Noras over three hundred years ago. They built a log dam at the southern edge of the high-forest allowing the water to be collected in one place for the use of the Oastirne and Galvahirne. This also gave the northern lands of the Vivlirne a respite from the relentless flow of the Gavl, drying the land enough for several settlements to be built. It was made of logs and stones placed together strategically to stop the flow of the river. It was like most of the things the Noras built: more durable than it was beautiful.
The dam itself was something of a marvel. To the untrained eye it looked as though it would burst any moment and flood the lowlands in a torrent of raging waters. But the Noras were careful builders and took as much care in the soundness of their constructions as they did pride in their sensibility. Disdain for niceties and adornments was quite common in Noras, especially among those who were not among the nobility. Wealth has a way of softening even those with the thickest skins, and poverty, accordingly has its own ways of toughening up those who might otherwise prefer the pillow to the plow. Nobility will always involve a certain degree of comfort, but in Noras a reputation for practicality and strength was of greater worth than many fine and delicate possessions.
At the southern edge, where the dam was built, the land sloped down rapidly forming a natural border between the Noras Highlands and the Coronan Region in the south and west.
Mityai now climbed that mighty dam with ease and darted across the surface of the water toward the north, no more disturbing its surface than the gentle trickle of a spring rain. Even here in the full light of the sun she passed unseen by mortal eyes. Her long starlight dress flickered and danced on the surface of the water like firefli
es blown about in the wind, but no more than this 'trick of light' could be seen of her.
She ran on until she came to Galva, on the northern shore of the Gavl lake on the eastern shore of the Gavl River. Galva was the largest city in the Noras Forest and one of the most prosperous, though even here the houses were not much adorned. The Noras loved log houses and roaring fires; they never quite adapted to the methods of their Daevaron neighbors, who built houses of brick and mortar.
She made her way to the center of the city and found Galva Hall, the long council house of the Galvahirne. Warily she peeked her head above the windows and looked inside. There was a large fire burning in the great stone chimney, but the house seemed to be empty save for a few servants who were busying themselves elsewhere. Mityai gently lifted the glass from its place and slipped through the window into the council hall without a sound. She walked beneath the bright beams of morning light that were pouring into the hall from the east. Her silvery hair danced about like specks of dust as she disturbed the stale air of the wooden hall.
The walls of the hall were built of enormous logs, each carefully interposed upon one another and cemented with tar. There was a large fireplace on the southern end of the hall with giant stones piled upon one another all the way up to the dark wooden ceiling. On the east and western walls there were small windows set about four feet apart from one another along the length of the hall. The hall was large, but surprisingly narrow for its purpose. It could seat over one hundred men, but there was no more than a shoulder's breadth of space between the backs of their tall wooden chairs and the wall on either side. But this narrowness made the hall as warm as it was austere, which was an especially important quality in the middle of the fierce Noras winter.
On the northern end of the hall there was a broad opening, covered by a thick deerskin curtain. Beyond this was the kitchen, the pantry and the servants' quarters. The fire in the main hall was now quite low, though every now and again the servants would come and revive it with a few logs and a lot of fanning. But for now they had little need of heat in that quarter and focused their efforts on the great oven in the kitchen, where most of their work was to be done. There had been a small meeting early that morning regarding some trivial matter, and the dishes and bowls still remained on the table with scraps of food and half filled mugs. To the Noras it would have been unthinkable to do any sort of political business, however small and inconsequential it might seem, without having a good hearty meal to go along with it.
'You were expected three days ago, Mityai,' a booming voice startled her as she walked into the center of the room.
'I could not leave him, my lord,' she said shyly with here eyes fixed on the floor. 'He suffers so greatly, my lord. You must let him rest; you must free him from these awful dreams. I have watched him at night, when the spirits vex him. It makes my heart sick to see him so weary and so afraid. He fights sleep, master, and even Old Man Sleep cannot overpower his will.'
'That is not your concern, Mityai, you are a messenger, not a warrior or a counselor. If I send you for news, you will bring me news. It is not your strong mind that made me choose you for my servant. It is your swift feet and your keen eyes that made you desirable.'
'Yes my lord Pelas,' Mityai said sadly. Her heart sunk, and if she were able she would have wept.
'Do not fear, child,' Pelas said. 'I will not punish you. But many days have now passed since we've heard any tidings from the army of Galva. Tell me all that you have seen.'
Chapter II:
Mityai's Testimony
Morning Departure
Lord Pelas, like Mityai, was clearer than the smoothest glass and lighter than a wisp of wind. He was much older and wiser, however, and his presence inspired awe even among mortals, though he walked among them unseen and unheard. He ruled over the spirits of Falsis from his throne in Dadron, but he often traveled to Galva to aid the Cheftans in council. He was particularly fond of the Galvahirne, for reasons that will be explained in due course. He beckoned her to begin her tale.
She began her account in her usual tone, which was soft and unsure. Pelas complained and commanded her to speak louder. He told her not to avert her eyes, not to fidget or wave her hands as she spoke, and many other things. Partly due to her own timidity and partly due to Lord Pelas' constant interruptions and interrogations her testimony came out only very slowly and in fragments. She would start the tale here and jump to another portion as Lord Pelas bid her. Then she would be told to return to the beginning and 'leave nothing out'. Then she was ordered to say 'only that which is of the utmost importance'.
The content of her account, when pieced together without her trembling, without jumping from one portion to another, and mostly without Lord Pelas' constant interruptions, is as follows:
It was before dawn on the twentieth day of the month the mortals call Primus when Daryas left his parents' home. He made no sound as he crept through the halls toward the front door. He did not wish to wake his mother, as the Lady Marima was as yet recovering from a long illness. Daryas had bid his father and mother farewell the previous night.
But as he stopped near the front door to gather his belongings, his mother addressed him with a soft and kind voice, 'You are not going to leave without saying farewell, are you my son?' Daryas was startled and turned toward his mother.
There behind him stood Lady Marima with a small cloth bag in her palm, which she was nervously rotating and passing from one trembling hand to the other. Her raven black hair was beginning to show the first signs of gray, and her face was pale and thin.
'Mother,' Daryas whispered, 'You need your rest.'
'This is for you,' his mother said as she handed him the bag. 'It is a loaf of bread, the sort that your brother and you love so much. And some dried venison as well.'
'Goodbye mother,' Daryas said as he took the bread and kissed his mother's hands. 'I will return to you.'
'May Pelas grant you good fortunes, my son.'
With those words and with one final embrace, Marima and her youngest son parted.
Daryas made his way swiftly through the streets, only stopping once to gaze back at his father's home. Though most of his youth was spent far from the city on his father's estate at Peiraso he was still loth to leave the comforts of the city of Galva, such as they were. 'Anything is better than the cold,' he murmured.
About an hour after he started out he met the son of Ponteris in front of his father's apartment. 'What's in the sack, Daryas?' was the first thing to pass through Hassan's lips.
'Bread,' he answered, 'and some meat, I think.'
'Hmm. How like her,' Hassan said as he lifted his own pack over his shoulders. 'I had to steal all of my provisions.'
Hassan looked back at his home once more before they left, and then he spat with a look of anger in his eyes. Daryas said nothing, he had become quite accustomed to his comrade's bitterness.
'It's unbecoming of a nobleman's son,' Hassan laughed as they walked away toward the western edge of Galva, 'to treat his parents with such disdain.'
Daryas only looked at him with a sorrowful look.
Hassan continued, 'But then again, I'm no nobleman's son. The devil told me so himself. He said to me last week, "I brought you in out of the streets out of the goodness of my own heart. Your mother was not the only desperate beggar in Noras, I could have left her to rot."'
'Did he really say all of that?' Daryas asked, not as incredulous as one ought to be when a friend says such a thing about his step-father.
'Something very close to it at least. Or at least he said something that implied all of that. Nobody ever tells the truth directly, my friend. No, they find much better ways to show you their hatred. Sometimes they'll even say something wicked about you with nothing but kind words. But that's the truth about how Cheft Ponteris feels about his wench's bastard.'
'Now you speak evil of your mother?' Daryas shook his head.
'And why not? Your mother gave you a loaf of bread to fill you
r plump little belly. My own dear mother is more likely to steal my last crumb and offer it as a sacrifice to Cheft Ponteris, her mighty benefactor.'
By the time these two reached the Gavl River the sun had already risen, revealing to their eyes a great multitude. Many warriors from the surrounding villages had joined the men of Galva on the banks of the river, awaiting the long march to the mountains.
Standing in the midst of them, tall and strong, was Cheftan Faros. His graying brown hair was very light for a Noras, and he kept it trimmed short and clean, but otherwise he looked every bit a Galvahirne. His eyes gleamed with intelligence as the sunlight illuminated his face. He wore a bright green cape, chain armor and a shining steel helmet. At his side he wore an ornate wooden scabbard and over his shoulder hung a strong wooden shield.
There were many other great warriors beside him. Swagar Prostirne the bard and his seven sons came from the northern woods with bows of ivory and arrows of oak, poison dipped. Pater Borirne with twenty young warriors from the western shores of Galva, each armed with new swords and sharpened spears. There was Tiltos the son of the High Priest of Galva, who came with a hundred warriors, ready for battle with wooden shields and battle axes. Also among the warriors were Gergius Gergirne and his son Jebda, also many of the sons of Clinlor and Mallor, who were reknown for their skill in battle. There were also many men of the Cossirne and Vivlirne gathered amongst their brethren, prepared for war.
Hassan and Daryas were put among the archers, of whom there were nearly seven hundred.
'I hate all of this waiting,' Hassan protested. 'If we don't get moving within a few hours we will likely have to spend the night here. That would be a fine thing! We may as well walk home this moment and come again in the morning.'