The story of his victories, and the unexpected deaths of two of his opponents, have been written about in colorful fashion in other places. Let us say that the best result of all was his taking service with Kaspar of Olasko, his most hated enemy, whom he wished to overthrow.
Tal’s story is long and complex, but in the end he helped us discover important information that proved vital in days to come. We had labored under the burden of not knowing the identity of the true master behind the destruction visited upon us over the years, and now we had a name, Leso Varen. He managed to escape through the use of necromancy when Olasko was finally defeated, but we had him marked and set out to track him down with every resource at the Conclave’s disposal.
Olasko was annexed to the Principality of Aranor, and both nations were declared protectorates of Roldem. Duke Kaspar of Olasko was spared death, as despite his well-earned reputation for ruthlessness and ambition, he had fallen under the sway of a monster, and it was unclear if he deserved to forfeit his life. So he was banished to the wild lands of Novindus.
This proved provident, for Kaspar later found his way to the Conclave with an artifact from another dimensional realm and a warning of an even more dire threat than what we had experienced. There is a great deal that took place during this period my father refused to comment on.
Talwin Hawkins Fights at the Masters’ Court
The Eastern Kingdoms are misnamed, for there are no true Kings in residence. Still, the name has endured. Originally these were regions that were explored first by either Rillanon or Roldem, with enclaves and outposts established to stake claim and make way for colonization or exploitation of resources.
Over centuries, the borders have shifted regularly, ruling families have risen and fallen, and in the end few powers have endured to pose a serious threat to the larger political entities of the region. The Southern “Kingdoms” are more problematic for the Kingdom than the Northern nations.
Most powerful in the region was Olasko. First, it was a relatively successful colony of Roldem’s for nearly a century until a civil war on the home island coupled with a revolt in Olasko created the independent duchy. At various times the ruler has styled himself “Grand Duke,” “Prince,” or most commonly just “Duke of Olasko.”
Next in influence is the twin Duchy of Maladon and Semrick, two duchies that merged when the two ruling families united in marriage and produced a single offspring who held claim to both nations. After nearly a hundred years, the single nation with two names endures. Their political ties to the Kingdom keep them safe against their more powerful neighbors.
Roskalon, Miskalon, and Salmeter are the three most successful trading nations in the East, with three huge trading ports, Prandur’s Gate, Watcher’s Point, and Micel’s Station, with ambitious eyes toward trade and a high tolerance for contraband. All three have been likened to Durbin in the Bitter Sea, but the comparison is unfair. All three cities are free of pirates, though they are known to be safe harbors for the Ceresian pirates who raid constantly along both Kingdom and Keshian coastlines. The Ceresians sail from various islands scattered along the coast from the Duchy of Olasko up to the Lands of the Orodon, and no man not a Ceresian knows exactly where. Numerous attempts have been made to locate their bases, always ending in failure, but the more cynical among the traders in the region avow that should the Ceresians ever be hunted down and stamped out, the three cities of the southern nations would be penniless within a year.
A MAP SHOWING THE COMMON TRADING ROUTES in the Sea of Kingdoms and along the coasts below the Peaks of the Quor and up through the Eastern Kingdoms.
Far Lorem, the Principality of Aranor, County Conar, and the High Reaches are all unique lands with languages and customs odd and quaint by Kingdom standards. Still, each possesses traditions and heritage worth study. Someday I hope to have the time to give serious attention to these lands, and the people living within.
Entry, the Eighteenth
SOME YEARS AGAIN HAVE PASSED SINCE MY LAST ENTRY. Kaspar of Olasko returned from his exile carrying word of grave threats that caused the Conclave to turn its undivided attention to another source of danger. He carried with him a device, a creation of evil called the Talnoy, a thing of artifice that carried within it a trapped soul.
I left it with the Assembly of Magicians on Kelewan, asking them to investigate it.
I have set down in another volume details of the occurrences of what has come to be called in the Conclave, the Dark War. It is called that because of the unusually brutal and unrelenting struggle, with a price unimaginable to any sane being, and because it is as well kept a secret as can be imagined for what is, in effect, the Third Riftwar. That is because the struggle took place on another world, and more than that I will not disclose here.
My father’s reticence is understandable as he was the author of the destruction of an entire world, Kelewan, his home for a while during the Riftwar, and while he labored without cease to save as many people as he could from that destruction, and to that end he succeeded, a full three out of five Tsurani, Thuril, and other peoples of that world perished in a desperate bid to thwart the actions of our enemies.
The only advantage realized in this madness was that the true enemy behind all this misery over all these years was revealed, the entity we called the Dread. There had been a school of thought that perhaps it was the God of Evil, the Nameless as he is known, who had been its architect, because it was clear that Leso Varen had been a servant of that Dark One, but later intelligence proved he was but another dupe of those serving the Dread.
One event in all this that bears notice was the death of Nakor. He remained on the Dasati home world as my father engineered the destruction of the rift traveling from there to the Tsurani home world, Kelewan. That loss was felt by all of us, but most heavily by my father. His failure to mention Nakor’s loss in the previous entry, and only in passing later, hints at the deep sense of loss, confusion, and anger my father felt.
And the near crippling guilt over the destruction of an entire world. As I write this, I look back on events with the perspective of time, recognizing that I have often underestimated my father’s burden. Such are the conceits of sons toward their fathers, I fear.
I have at times mentioned the Pavilion of the Gods. It is as best I can judge a metaphorical place, not existing objectively in our world. Yet each time I have visited it, there was a sense of permanency and a reality to it, albeit subjective. In any event, some time back I described in detail to a student here on the island what I remember of its layout, and as a gift to me, he created the map I now include here. Were I more rigorous in my organization of this material I would probably do well to place this map where I narrate Tomas’s and my first visit, or perhaps when I first encountered Miranda, but I lack the motivation to unbind what is bound so far.
If that reflects ill upon me, so be it.
My father was enduring a dark existence in many ways since returning from the conflict on the Dasati world and with the destruction of Kelewan. While he somehow managed to accept the necessity of all those lives lost, the loss of Nakor haunted him. There was a time when my father would have gleefully unbound this journal, selected an appropriate page behind which to insert this map, then sewn the entire volume back as it was. Such was his mood at this time that even so trivial a task was daunting.
THIS FLOOR PLAN depicts the arrangement of the statues of the gods in the Pavilion of the Gods, high in the peaks of the Ratn’gary Mountains of Novindus.
We were all thankful that it was only in such little things Father showed his despair. In matters of consequence he was attentive and focused. We waited and hoped he would eventually get over Nakor’s loss and return to better spirits. I fear we were almost naive in that hope.
I was summoned to the chamber below the city of Sethanon by the Oracle of Aal. As I arrived, so did a major demon, which required no little effort to destroy. The Oracle had summoned me at that particular moment for two reasons: to save her
from that demon, but to also warn me we were heading toward what she deemed a Nexus, a coming together in time and space of many probabilities, and that the future after was dark until certain issues within that Nexus were resolved.
Demons played a large role in all the conflicts over the years, and as we recovered from the events in what is now called the Dark War, a Demon Master sought us out. Kaspar of Olasko had made his home in Novindus after ridding us of the risks of Leso Varen and his allies during the Dark War, and a demon summoner, by name Amirantha, came to him in the city of Maharta.
Kaspar quickly deduced this is someone I should meet, for several reasons, but the two main reasons were he was the youngest brother of the magician Sidi, or Leso Varen, and he brought a warning regarding demons.
An additional expert in demons, at least in destroying them, came to join us eventually as well, a Knight-Adamant of the Order of the Shield, servants of the goddess Dala.
The other event of note was the returning to Midkemia of an ancient race of elves, self-styled Taredhel, or “Star Elves,” an impressive group by any measure. Taller than their other kin by a half-head’s height or more, they were of a nature unlike their brethren on Midkemia. These were elves who had fled Midkemia via rifts during the first Chaos War, finding a home where they could recover and build their own nation without Valheru control.
They built cities and they claimed planets and grew to multitudes undreamed of by other elves, numbering in the millions. Seven worlds around seven stars they colonized, then they encountered the demon host.
As with the Saaur on Shila, only this time across worlds through what they called “portals,” or rifts, the demons came in unrelenting waves. The Lord Regent and his council, the Regent’s Meet, sought refuge and found their way back to their home world, Midkemia, with demons in pursuit.
Pug Helps the Oracle of Aal
We set out to learn as much as we could about this coming demon horde, for it was now clear to me this was our next attack from our true enemy, the Dread.
In discussing the following events, a few amendments to earlier entries are in order. The Taredhel built their new home in the very valley in which the Tsurani erected their rift gate so many years ago. I am something of an expert on the topic of rifts, so I can say with a fair degree of certainty that this valley is now the most likely place for any rift not specifically targeted at another location on the planet to terminate. It is the nature of rift magic that scissions are formed, lines or cracks if you will, in the very fabric of time and space that draw magic through, as water runs through a crack in stone, to that terminus.
The elf city is, by all reports, worthy of a visit.
I did have the opportunity to visit the city, called “E’bar” in the ancient elven language, meaning “Home.” It was a place of astonishing beauty, yet it was an aloof beauty if I may affect that judgment. There was a cold precision about it that always lingered in any appreciation of the otherwise stunning achievement.
Taredhel geomancers, magic workers of stone, possess an art so far beyond what human Mudcrafters are capable of, it begs comparison. While the human may haul rocks out of the earth, transport them to a site, pile them into forms, and transform them to mud, then re-form them as rocks, the geomancer seems to call rocks up out of the soil to do his bidding, as if wishing them into the shape he desires, and in whatever hue he chooses. So E’bar is a place of soaring towers of stone, high arching bridges between them, massive defensive walls, and stately buildings and homes, all constructed by magic within months, where a human monarch would spend decades achieving a similar feat, and with far less spectacular results.
Yet there is an absence of grace, for lack of a better way to put it. There is a marvelous range of colors at every hand, as pastel reds and oranges trim walkways of gold flecked with white stone, and ramparts of rust and vermillion set atop walls the color of pale lemons. In all this, there is a lack of emotion; it is as if the precision of everything robs it of art.
It is a tragedy that nothing remains of E’bar, for despite my perception of artistic flaws, it was a feat of engineering and design unmatched by any other city I have encountered on this or any other world.
In the course of seeking information as to the rising role of demons in the conflict between the Conclave and our opponents, we sought out a legendary volume on demons, reputed to be contained within the royal library in Queg.
I have only mentioned Queg in passing so far, so allow me to touch upon that strange nation for a moment. Queg was a unique colony of the Empire of Great Kesh.
As mentioned before, at the heart of the Empire stand the original Keshians, those who refer to themselves as “Truebloods,” and no matter what rank is achieved by anyone else, they are considered inferior.
There was one group that stood in the shadow of the Truebloods, yet claimed kinship, in times ages ago, far enough back that history and myth blend. They were called the Quegans, and in the vernacular of the time, they were from the wrong side of the lake. The tribes that hunted along the shores of the Overn Deep were of one bloodline, but those on the north shore grew to dominance. Language and history made it impossible for those who rose up to found Kesh to deny their relationship to those from the south shore, but they made every attempt to do so.
After centuries of bitter conflict, when the Bitter Sea was reached by the first Keshian explorers and the first colonists were sent north, the last tribe of Quegans was given title to the island, which the tribe immediately named Queg, and migrated there to the last child. Affecting the attitude of Truebloods, the Quegans declared that they were the only aristocracy and any other colonist was a peasant. Thus the two-caste system in Queg was introduced that is still in force today. So even the most enterprising, successful commoner must have a noble patron, else they would never be allowed to succeed, and again thus, as strange and convoluted a system of patronage and privilege known on Midkemia exists on the Island Kingdom of Queg.
Sandreena Receives Her Commission
The Quegans’ claim of empire is amusing except that occasionally they would seek to claim dominion over the Free Cities, which on several occasions were forced to repulse their military. Fortunately for those who share the Bitter Sea with Queg, while their navy is prodigious, the nation’s army is barely adequate to keep its own population under control. The Quegans’ three attempts to colonize what is now the coast of the Principality before the Kingdom reached the Bitter Sea all ended in successful rebellion or the complete collapse of the colony.
Today, Queg is a closed-off nation, requiring strict protocols for a visit. One must arrange travel to Queg through a sponsor, either one of the nobility or a highly placed merchant. Arranging such requires application through the Quegan ambassador’s residence in Durbin, Krondor, or Port Natal. Failure to secure proper visas ensures a quick arrest and trial as a spy. Only those with patronage are allowed to defend themselves at trial; therefore, the simple act of being arrested guarantees a conviction. The sentence is always life at hard labor, usually in a Quegan war galley, unless suitable ransom can be arranged. Sailors wrecked at sea in sight of Queg have been said to drown themselves rather than swim to shore, knowing that even a shipwrecked man without a patron’s visa would be convicted of being a spy.
The one exception is foreign sailors on leave in the Sailors’ Quarantine of Queg City, Ponaqua, Palenque, or Conquala. Inns, taverns, and brothels abound in those four ports, as well as confidence tricksters, slavers, card cheats, pickpockets, and muggers. As the only two punishments for committing a crime in the Sailors’ Quarantine are life in the galleys or death by crucifixion, the profit margins for crime must be very high, Quegan criminals are very stupid, or, as some cynics have opined, the Quegan constabulary are easily bribed.
A trading map of the Bitter Sea. Origin unknown, but it was buried in my father’s papers.
—Magnus of Sorcerer’s Isle
Sailors in the Quarantine are advised to be wary of those offering to bu
y drinks, for if a stranger drinks ale and finds a Quegan coin at the bottom of the cup, he is said to have accepted the King’s gold and therefore the King’s service, and he is bound to the galleys. The only mitigation is that “voluntary service” is only for ten years, not for life.
Such is the insularity of Queg that to investigate their library, searching for the tome on demons we believed would be there, that I, my son Magnus, and the Warlock Amirantha arrived in Queg disguised as scholars, me being from Rillanon, my son from Yabon, and Amirantha from the distant land of Muboya, all under the aegis of one Lord James Jamison, or as I knew him, Jim Dasher.
Jim is the several great grandson of the first James of Krondor, Jimmy the Hand, and more like that man than any I have ever known. If anything, Jim may be a little more deliberate and less impulsive, but in every other way that counts, he is his equal. Jim’s grandfather was Lord Jamison, Duke of Rillanon, twin to the late Dashel of Krondor, sons of Arutha, Lord Vencar, grandson of Jimmy the Hand.
Jim is an interesting and complex man who serves both the Kingdom and the Conclave, and I am not certain if he serves the Conclave for the sake of the Kingdom, or serves the Kingdom for the sake of the Conclave, or if it really matters. Never has he officially claimed it, but I believe him to be the head of the Kingdom’s network of agents throughout Triagia, many of whom also serve both the King and Conclave.
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