“It doesn’t look like you’re going to get that bath,” I said to Voherinas as he faced me, fear and desperation beginning to dawn in his eyes. He needed a bath more than ever, now. The spray of blood and entrails from the combat had mixed with the dirt on and snow his armor turning it into a disgusting pink and brown mud.
“We will not withdraw!” he said, passionately. When the Alka Alon
There was rumble at the edge of the clearing as trees were pushed aside and the huge form of the troll warden, Dargarin, entered the battle.
“Minalan!” he roared. “What is going on here?”
“I’ll give you a volume of new works for every Enshadowed head you take!” I proposed to him in a shout. Voherinas was making a few deft attacks with his blade as Cei protected my flanks, but I was easily defending with Blizzard. It wasn’t even much of a challenge.
“But I just got sacked!” he complained.
“I know! And you just got hired!” I informed him. “Defend the tower for the Sorceress, and your position will be restored!”
Of course, Voherinas had a counter-proposal. “Troll! Slay these humani! I command you, as your rightful master!”
That might have worked on a young, stupid troll who was still subject to the instinctual deference most of the Alon felt about dealing with their ancient Alka Alon masters. But Dargarin was mature, educated, and – thankfully – independently minded.
“I chose my own work!” he growled in response. “And my own masters! I owe you our jobs restored, you say?”
He considered quickly – about four clumsy passes of Voherinas’ blade – before he nodded.
“It’s a deal, Minalan!” he said, with some relief... and began fighting the few Enshadowed left. His spear flew out to impale one in the belly as fast as lightning and as smoothly as a river. His next step saw him push the butt of his massive shaft against the back of another Alkan warrior and fling him into another, like a farmer hoeing weeds.
Sire Cei grinned. “It’s refreshing to have a troll on our side for once!” he said, and charged another knot of the foe.
Between the three of us we put the survivors to flight despite their angry protests. If what they expected was a quick and bloody raid on the Tower of Refuge, they were satisfied. After Dargarin joined in the fray it was quick, and far bloodier for the Enshadowed than they’d anticipated.
“That was just what I needed!” I sighed, leaning on Blizzard as I watched the last of the Enshadowed quit the clearing. “Dargarin! Leave off, and police the field, if you will. Bring the wounded to the Tower – no mercy killings! – and pile up the dead. We’ll discuss precise terms for your new post when you are done,” I promised.
The big troll smiled broadly at the new orders. It did little to improve his looks. He began bellowing orders to the attendants from the Tower who were quick to administer first aid to those who needed it. The troll piled up the corpses of those who didn’t. We walked back toward the settlement, the rush of battle fading a little with every step.
“That was fast ,” I murmured, as I considered the attack. “Not just the Council’s action to lower the defenses, but the Enshadowed moving to take advantage of it. That speaks to a close watch on both,” I reasoned.
“They likely planned for a quick slaughter,” Sire Cei agreed as he stowed his hammer away in his belt. “That many would have plowed through the meager defenses here and slain the Sorceress.”
“She may not have been the only target,” I pointed out. “The Enshadowed are a vengeful sect. Alya slew one of their officials or lords or whatever they use. It’s just as likely that they were coming for her, too.”
“In either case, this place will need more protection,” Sire Cei pointed out, critically, as he looked around at the picturesque place.
“Well, perhaps the Terra Alon will consent to guard it,” I proposed.
“And the trolls,” Sire Cei reminded me.
“And the trolls,” I nodded. “Perhaps some of the gods, even,” I sighed, as I took out my pipe and lit it. I’d been putting this off long enough, I knew. It was time to face the music.
The moment my finger flared into flame and ignited the packed herbs, a red-haired woman appeared from between the neat rows of bushes that lined the trail back to the Tower. She was wearing a scarlet habit over her tresses. Her eyes were flaming. I sighed.
“Well, someone’s been busy again!” she said accusingly, shaking her head angrily.
“Sister?” Sire Cei asked, confused at the sight of the strange young nun.
“Actually,” I said, as I cleared my throat, “this is Briga, Narasi goddess of fire. I told you I met them,” I added, chidingly. “Briga, I expect you know Sire Cei?”
“A pleasure,” she said, nodding at the knight, absently. “Minalan, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” I was hearing that a lot, lately.
“Yes,” I said, flatly. “I recruited a valuable ally to our cause.”
“You’ve done a lot more than that!”
“I also slew a bunch of Enshadowed,” I added. “In valiant combat.”
“Yes, your muscles are truly impressive,” she said, patiently, rolling her eyes, “and woe be unto your enemies . . . but that doesn’t excuse the avalanche of crap you just started!”
“One might consider it inspired,” I suggested as I smirked at the goddess of inspiration.
“Or just plain donkey-shit mad! ” Briga shot back. “You interfered with the Alka Alon council!”
“Not technically,” I demurred. “I was invited to the Alka Alon council,” I reminded her. “I’m a member . So I can’t really be said to have interfered.”
“And the very first thing you do as such is free a... a... “
“An ally, ” I supplied, graciously.
“There are others on the council who will not look upon this kindly!” she warned.
“I am asking for their kindness,” I challenged. “I’m asking for their pragmatism. I suppose they should have considered what admitting an ephemeral, unstable humani mage to their club might entail,” I reflected, philosophically. “But the deed is done. Several of them. And Alya is one step closer to wholeness,” I added.
“And our world is one step closer to chaos! ” she snorted, angrily. “You don’t know Elre the way I do!”
“I thought you liked her?”
“I do! That doesn’t mean I don’t think she should be locked up!” she said, exasperated.
“The time for such conservative measures is passed,” I remarked. “Anthatiel has fallen, Korbal has awakened, the Enshadowed are resurgent, Shereul is gathering strength, and the council itself is hard-pressed to contend with the situation.”
“That’s why they included the foremost human mage to assist them,” Briga explained patiently. “It was thought that the advice and assistance of our people would be of benefit!”
“My advice . . . is to not be stupidly restrained by tradition and history when our civilization is in danger. My assistance lies in forcing the Alka Alon to do what they should do even when they don’t want to,” I countered.
“This is going to earn you more enemies,” she warned, shaking her head doubtfully.
“Hells, line them up!” I snapped. “I’ve already got a couple of genocidal dark lords on the list, and the entirety of the Enshadowed, the Censorate, and who knows who else – if any of the council members think they can do a better job, I am eager to see their wares. Perhaps this will explain to them – and to you, my fiery goddess – that Minalan the Spellmonger has lost his patience and is sick of waiting around for others to fix the problems of the universe!”
“That’s what the gods are for!” she defended.
“And you’re doing the usual piss-poor job! Why didn’t you tell me about the Vundel, goddess?” I demanded. “The real story? And the precarious position of the Alka Alon? Why didn’t you mention the truth about humanity’s plight to me?”
Briga looked guilty – and Sire Cei looked shocked
. I was not only conversing with a divine presence, I was chewing her out like a castle drudge.
“That’s...complicated,” she admitted, in a murmur. “Most of that happened before my time. And I was concerned that telling you too much would overwhelm you, and keep you from the tasks at hand.”
“That’s no excuse!” I said, bitterly. “If you wanted me to be a champion of humanity, it might have been helpful if I’d known the situation – the entire situation – before I accepted the job!”
“I was unsure if you had the sophistication to appreciate the nuances,” she said with exaggerated diplomacy. “I barely grasp it myself.”
“It’s not that hard, actually, once someone actually explains it to you!” I accused, angrily.
“Minalan, what are you talking about?” Sire Cei asked, confused, as he looked from wizard to goddess and back.
“Forget the myths and legends, my friend. Humanity and the Alon are both merely guests on Callidore,” I stated, matter-of-factly. “Guests of the Sea Folk. Or tenants, more accurately. If either race perturbs them, then they are empowered to evict us like a cottager delinquent on the rent. And to the Sea Folk – the Vundel – there is no real difference between us and the Alon. Or me and Shereul. They care not for our politics or our ethics. One misstep, and both our races will be... gone. The face of Callidore will be free from its pests.”
“Can they... can they do that?” he asked, his eyes wide with existential horror.
“From what I understand, it is well within their power,” I agreed, gravely. Briga nodded, silently, her eyes wide and nearly as afraid as Sire Cei’s. As brutal as it felt, I knew I had to explain the mess fully to someone lest my heart explode. “And the Alka Alon are already on probation,” I added, “thanks to their horrific wars, before we showed up. In fact,” I said, suddenly realizing the obvious, “I’d say that the probation was one of the reasons the Alka Alon quit building cities and went back to the trees,” I proposed. “It wasn’t a purely aesthetic choice, I’m guessing, but a capitulation and surrender to the Vundel.”
“From what I understand,” Briga sighed, “it was decided that the Vundel’s warning was so profound that Alka Alon kindreds across Callidore agreed to put away their differences and deal with the... difficult element. Their intervention was quick and decisive. And bloody. But it satisfied the Vundel’s complaints. When they left, placing the Council in charge of the territory, there was little in this realm but ruins and wastelands. Instead of rebuilding the great cities in our part of the world, they embraced a more rustic life while they policed the radicals among them.”
“Which also encouraged them to keep a low profile, regarding the Sea Folk,” I guessed.
“Extremely,” she nodded. “The remnants and survivors of the centuries-long struggle were weary from the war and the ire of their distant kin. They eschewed their lofty past and withdrew to a simpler life as much to avoid another catastrophe as out of guilt for their role in it. They were just recovering from that effort when humanity appeared on the horizon. Some were relieved by the appearance, as they thought our race would distract the Vundel from their displeasure with the Alon. Others feared it would compound the problem. They appear to have been correct,” she said, biting her lip.
“Perhaps,” I shrugged. “But that’s history, now. They did allow us to live here. Now they have to live with us.”
“They only agreed because we didn’t seem to have any magic!” the goddess stressed. “That’s the only reason the various Alka Alon realms beyond the Duchies agreed – over some strident objections by those within the settlement area. Your tekka allowed you to live inside the Terran Zone without being a threat to their realms. By the time our people expressed rajira , it was too late for them to reconsider: there were already ninety-thousand humans on Callidore and more arriving every year.”
“Why was that a problem?” I asked.
“Because once we were able to do magic,” she sighed, “the pleasant face and delightful stories of the Alka Alon started to unravel. We discovered that they weren’t entirely forthcoming about their role on Calidore, or their recent history. And some of the Alka Alon felt as if we’d lied to them, somehow.”
“It wasn’t as if we could have known we’d develop rajira!” I pointed out.
“That’s what the Archmage said!” Briga agreed, fervently. “But the Alkan Councils were not persuaded by that argument,” she continued, shaking her head. “There was a conflict, a crisis – one which is still shrouded in mystery – and some political struggle among your ancestors. As I said, before my time. The settlement stopped as the horizon was withdrawn beyond the moons, and that averted the crisis.”
“That was around the time of the founding of the first Magocracy,” I supplied, appreciating my perverse fascination with ancient history, a subject that bores other people into premature dotage. “The records are spotty, from then.”
“By design,” she nodded, her eyes narrowing. “The magi took power on Perwyn... with the help of some Alka Alon. And some of the early divinities. At the time, I’m sure it seemed like a good idea – some of your ancestors were as fanatical as the Enshadowed, and weren’t fond of the restrictions they felt were forced on the colony. They would have become a danger to us all, and it is said we are better off without them.
“But then a few generations later, the magi were responsible for sinking Perwyn and nearly dooming your civilization entirely... also , perhaps, with the help of some Alka Alon. And maybe a god or two. So . . . I guess that was a judgement call . . .” she decided, pursing her lips thoughtfully.
This was a fascinating glimpse into our ancient history, and it was filling in some tantalizing gaps in my education. Perhaps even something useful. “So what did the Sea Folk do about it?”
“Well, they weren’t particularly happy with the ecological disruption caused by Perwyn’s destruction,” she explained, sullenly, crossing her arms. “They have a bank of feeding reefs just beyond, and there was some... unpleasantness, during and immediately after the evacuation. A mild rebuke. Mostly, they like us. Unlike the Alon, we build boats and come trade with them at sea. When there have been incidents, they destroy the miscreants and then there aren’t any more problems.”
“Someone would actually attack a Leviathan?” I asked, doubtfully. I’d seen one in the distance, on the way home from Farise. I thought it was an island, at first, it was so big. “That’s insanity!”
“It’s usually suicide,” she agreed. “And the Sea Folk understand the actions of a few violators of the rules don’t represent anything serious . . . just like when one of their clippermen goes amok on a coastal village. These things happen,” she shrugged. “They weren’t happy with Perwyn sinking, and they let us know. Hells, they summoned the Sea God, personally. But apart from that, the Vundel have yet to take notice of the recent problems in the Dry World. We think ,” she said, unsteadily.
“My goddess,” Sire Cei said, with a mix of reverent awe and curiosity, “should you not know such things?”
“Omniscience is not one of my attributes,” snorted Briga. “I can only see that which takes place in the presence of flame. Believe it or not,” she said, with a hint of chuckle in her voice, “the Sea Folk don’t light a lot of fires.”
“Why did you not explain all of this to me before?” I demanded. “It might have given me a lot better insight.”
“Minalan,” she said, patiently, “we’re speaking of the histories of three or four different worlds , here, not village gossip. It’s not a simple story. Or one easily explained, especially to...”
“To a simple village spellmonger?” I supplied, wryly.
“You were always more than just that!” she confided, affectionately. “But even as an educated man, you still lack the sophistication and context to understand all of . . . this. Ash and soot, I lack the sophistication!” she added, with a trace of bitterness. “I’m a relatively young goddess who grew up on the steppes. I see a lot, but I don’t
understand all of it,” she confessed. “But I do know that we are on the knife’s edge of danger. The Alka Alon are worried, almost panicked. Shereul and Korbal and their fanatics barely acknowledge the power of the Vundel and feel that it will be centuries before they take note of affairs in the Dry World, again.”
“Yet they know they cannot escape judgement,” Sire Cei pointed out, disturbed.
“By that time, they plan on being in control, and in a position to re-negotiate with the Sea Folk... the fools!”
“Are they wrong?” I felt compelled to ask.
“They would need far more power than the two dark lords, combined, and all of their minions as well. More than the power of the gods. And yes, before you ask, there are powers on Callidore greater than both. Let us not even consider the possibility of them coming into play,” she said, her face as white as ash.
“If the Vundel barely noted the passage of Perwyn, why would they be concerned with a fight between us so far from the sea?”
“Because while the Vundel might be disinterested, but they are aware ,” she explained. “The Alka Alon are on probation because their struggles threatened the security of Callidore. Turning around, just a few millennia later, and fighting with the newcomers to once again endanger that security could make them lose patience with both.”
“So, who among the Alka Alon understands the nature of the Vundel the best?” I asked.
The question took her by surprise. She wrinkled up her nose in a way that was divinely adorable. “Locally? That would be Raer Haruthel... Ambiarel the Sage... and Lilastien Elre,” she admitted.
“And who among the Alka Alon understands the nature of humanity the best?” I prodded. Her expression changed to a less-adorable divine scowl.
“Lilastien Elre,” she conceded, with a defeated sigh.
The Spellmonger's Yule: A Spellmonger Series Short Story Page 13