by Martin Ash
Temporarily, Crosswood remained a Karai staging-post, though the garrison had been downgraded to little more than local administrative status for the withdrawal, and was in the latter stages of its own preparations to depart. Other companies passed through, or rested over on their return journey to the Karai homelands, but though they were organized, disciplined and alert, they exhibited little indication of the desire for battle that had formerly characterized their passage.
For some time Issul and her force waited beside the road a little way outside Crosswood, but the Karai paid them virtually no heed, and eventually they advanced into the township. Issul shook with anger as they rode, for everywhere in and around Crosswood was evidence of Karai cruelty. The corpses of men, women, children hung from trees and the eaves of buildings, or lay dead and discarded on the earth. Some had been impaled upon sharpened stakes, others burned. From earlier reports and her own studies and experience Issul had come to understand that mass slaughter and torture of innocents was not customary Karai practice. Rather, it had served largely as an amusement for Prince Anzejarl as he had passed through Crosswood in the course of his advance upon Enchantment's Reach. Even so, she raged inwardly and silently wept at the loss, and was hard put to keep herself from ordering her men to mete out singular vengeance on the spot.
Some way beyond Crosswood they departed the road and struck off into the forest in the direction of Ghismile, on the shore of Ghismile Tarn. They followed the tracks that Issul's own, smaller company had left as she had ridden this way scarcely three weeks earlier. They reached the place where Issul had rested, and the emotions rose painfully in her breast. It was here that Arene had denounced Shenwolf as a traitor, here that virtually simultaneously Issul's force had been ambushed by Grey Venger and the grullags.
In this place she ordered a search. Sir Cathbo's troops found decomposing bodies of her men, ravaged by forest animals, but little else, and she wondered what it was she had been hoping to discover. A sign of Arene? Issul had frequently wondered whether the old woman of the Hir'n Esh had truly been slain here, or if not, what had become of her. She wondered, too, about Commander Gordallith and his band of villainous traitors, who she ached to bring to justice. But they were almost certainly long gone from this region, and she deemed them unlikely ever to return to Enchantment's Reach.
She moved on, and came in time to Ghismile. Her scouts explored with caution, but the village and keep proved to be deserted by all but the corpses of some of their former inhabitants. With a heavy heart Issul identified several of the bodies: the woman, Marilene, who had suffered so terribly at the hands of the evil 'Baron' Ombo; Issul's former companion, Aurfusk, who had escaped with her and the others from the Karai camp, but whose injuries had prevented him from travelling further. She recalled the horrors the villagers had lived through for so long, and again she wept and raged, and wondered in perplexity at the nature and purpose of all things.
A day later they were at the Karai camp. This too was deserted. With Sir Cathbo and a squad of guards Issul descended into the bunker, but having assured herself that the brooding-pens and ante-chamber were unoccupied, she entered the chamber of the Farplace Opening alone.
The magnificent orb of the Farplace Opening hovered in the centre, pulsing gently. A myriad colours swam across its intangible surface, fluxing, merging, swirling. Issul was again momentarily transfixed by its opalescent, mysterious beauty.
She thought about Triune, not knowing whether she was expected - or even if it was safe - to pass through into the Tower on the other side of the Farplace Opening, and enter Enchantment again.
'Triune, I am here,' she said aloud. 'It is me, Issul. I have returned to give you my thanks, and to take my children. Are you aware of me?'
The Farplace Opening dilated and briefly increased in magnitude, dazzling her. She threw up her arm to protect her eyes, and then Prince Galry and Prince Jace were within the globe. The brightness diminished and they rushed forward into their mother's arms. Galry was carrying a scroll, which, when Issul was able to release him, he handed to her. She unfurled it, and saw a message upon its surface, scrawled in a wild and somewhat bizarre hand.
Issul,
Do not attempt to pass through the Opening. It is no longer appropriate.
The two small beings to whom you have formed so strong an attachment are returned to you. It is strange: they are beguiling. I almost came to feel something I am unfamiliar with, which you might call affection or a notion akin to it. You creatures of the realized world. . . I suspect we will never understand you.
Now it is over; balance is restored, and our conflict can continue, as it must. You may not return here. We have shared some small part of the dream. You have partaken, and witnessed something of the true world, the many-named domain, where all things are possible. You have served us; you have dreamt and brought Triune forth. Triune is no longer broken and scattered. And Triune, I trust, has served you in return.
Now you must leave. Something of Enchantment will always be yours, for you have dreamed, even if the dream was not yours alone, even if you did not know that you dreamed. Something of Enchantment is within you and about you. Now it is done.
All things may be.
Farewell,
TRIUNE.
Even as she read, Issul grew aware of the magnitude of the Farplace Opening dimming, and decreasing in size. She watched with mixed emotions as its colours passed and it became smaller and smaller until eventually it was gone and she stood in darkness beneath the ground, holding her children’s warm little hands.
*
In Enchantment's Reach King Leth was given much to reflect upon.
In the early days following the Karai withdrawal his time was largely devoted to the complex task of restoring order and stability to kingdom and capital, but as the weeks passed he came to reflect more and more deeply upon the extraordinary enigmas and mysteries of all he had been through and all that had occurred.
Since the death of Lir, the true Legendary Child, Leth had had no contact with Orbelon. As he had been preparing to step through the Union into the chamber deep within Overlip, old Master Protector had warned him, firmly but not without respect and affection, and with tears in his eyes, that he should make no attempt to return without prior summoning. Indeed, within moments of Lir's death and the acceptance of her half- corpse, the Union had dwindled and vanished.
The blue casket was sealed, and unresponsive to Leth's attempts to open it, and had been so since that day. Leth began to believe that all links with Orbelon's World and with Orbelon himself had now been severed.
Many times he dreamed of his adventures in that land, and daily he wondered what had become of the people he had met there. Shenwolf, Summoner, Master Protector, Lakewander. He wondered greatly about the child - his child - that Lakewander supposedly bore. If it were true, she would be approaching her mid-term now. His son, or daughter, would soon become part of that extraordinary world. Were they ever to know each other?
It seemed there were no answers. Some things were simply not to be known.
Leth also wondered about Orbelon himself, and he considered how everything he had been through had challenged and in many instances forced him to modify his own views. With this in mind, and in consultation with Issul and Pader Luminis, he reflected hard upon the matter of the Deist Edict introduced by his illustrious ancestor, King Haruman. Haruman's argument, which had gained wholehearted support from his descendants, had been that the Edict was required to curb the fervour and growing influence of the religious factions that had sprung up in response to the great questions posed in large part by the existence of mysterious Enchantment upon the border of the realm, and of its mighty and unapproachable denizens. But in the manner of all known faiths, the factions had virtually created gods of those beings of whom they knew next to nothing, and had used them not as a means to genuinely attempt to explain the mysteries of life, but as a way of establishing corporeal power and influence over those persons t
hey were able to draw into their belief system. Dogma, blind faith and manufactured belief, brooking no enquiry, had been placed in purposeful obstruction of a genuine search for knowledge.
Haruman, and subsequently Leth, had argued that true knowledge of the gods and their desires - if such gods existed - had not been arrived at. The so-called will of the deities propounded by the various religious factions was in fact manifestly and demonstrably superficial human will masquerading as divine. Haruman opined that religion had become, not a source of succour and hope, but a means of enslaving and manipulating for earthly gain the minds of those many persons who came genuinely seeking help and an insight into the true nature of their existence. He had decreed the abolition of such practices and established the framework, in the form of the Arcane College and the Department of Philosophical Studies, that would enable and encourage a genuine search for Knowledge, Truth and Wisdom.
But now it seemed at first that everything had changed. Issul and Leth had entered Enchantment, had consorted with gods. And the greatest miracle of all: Orbelon had been transformed over eons into a true divinity. He was, even if inadvertently, the Creator of his own universe. He was also, in himself, that universe in its entirety.
Over and over Leth grappled with this, for it threw up so many questions in his mind. But after many weeks he was drawn to conclude that in fact, as far as his own world was concerned, little in essence had changed. He had learned unequivocally that, with the sole exception of Orbelon, the Highest Ones of Enchantment could not be said to be true gods. Advanced, mighty and near-immortal they might be, but they were not divinities. They lived lives of inextricable conflict, though they needed each other, and could do nothing other. They cared little or nothing for the welfare or concerns of humans. For all their power and knowledge they were, like humans, essentially creatures born out of the cosmos into ignorance, and prime examples of consciousness gone astray in the physical world.
Therein was the nub, and known or unknown, their worship was to be vigorously discouraged. Haruman's Deist Edict had in fact now been validated by direct experience.
This was an extraordinary development, and one with potentially wide-ranging ramifications for the country and its peoples. But how much of what had been discovered should be made public? Both Issul and Leth had been brought to knowledge of great and profound secrets, and such secrets, in the wrong hands, were as liable to misrepresentation, abuse and manipulation as anything that had gone before.
Issul and Leth embarked upon the task of recording their adventures, but the decision was eventually made to seal their records in the vaults of the Arcane College where, initially at least, none but the most advanced and devoted adepts of the College might have access to them. In time, by degrees, their discoveries would be made available to less advanced students whose conduct, dedication and application of the College's teachings, codes and principles marked them out as worthy. And one day, perhaps, when enough adepts had been inducted into the mysteries to ensure that such knowledge might not be distorted for personal gain, it might be possible for it to be gradually filtrated into the consciousness of the public at large.
*
One evening in late spring Leth and Issul rested alone in their apartments in the First Tower of Dawn. A shadow flickered and came forward from the depths of the chamber, and revealed itself as Orbelon. He offered no greeting but merely stood before them and after a pause raised one hand and, without hurry, began to unravel the great mass of rags that swathed his head.
The two watched, spellbound, until the last scrap of cloth was removed and they could see for the first time what was hidden within. And then Orbelon's voice told them, 'Remember, you hold the casket. The future of my world and yours is in your hands, just as it is also in mine. We have met and have saved one another. There exists a bond and a covenant between us which must never be broken, for to break it will be the end of all. Remember well, and pass such sacred knowledge to your children, that the Union between us may never be broken. We are one and the same, and we cannot exist without each other. Now I go.'
'Orbelon, wait!' Leth cried, starting forward. 'Tell me . . . of Orbia.'
'Of Orbia?'
'I was told I named it. I had a past there. Yet I know nothing of it. Is it true? Have I been in your world before?'
'Surely what you have witnessed and are witnessing now provides the answer to that?' said Orbelon.
'I . . .' Leth shrugged. 'I don't know.'
'Then learn to see, Leth. Learn to know what lies within, wanting to be known.'
Orbelon had begun to pass from sight. Issul called out, 'Will we meet again?'
He was gone, but his final words hung in the air. 'We may. It is if the need arises. I will be aware, and time will tell, but as I told Leth long ago, in time I will no longer be required for the telling. Perhaps that time has come, or perhaps not. Until then, remember, teach your children. Goodbye, my friends.'
'Did you see?' demanded Leth after some moments, turning back. 'Iss, did you see his face?'
Issul nodded, her pupils dilated. 'I saw.'
'Never - though I wondered many times what lies beneath his rags - never did I imagine that I would look there and see my own likeness. What does it mean?'
Issul met his gaze. 'You saw yourself? Your own likeness?'
'My own, yet it lay somehow upon that of others who I did not recognize, yet I felt I somehow knew. Did you recognize those other faces, Iss?'
Issul shook her head. 'That was not what I saw, Leth. No face, neither yours nor anybody else's. I saw something quite different.' She lowered her gaze, her expression thoughtful and enquiring.
Leth moved and took her hand. 'What did you see, Iss?'
'I witnessed our world. Somehow I knew without question that it was ours, though it was suspended in infinite space where also dwelt stars and clouds of stars and other worlds, an inexplicable entity that is the universe. It was beautiful and strange. I saw every world, somehow in those brief moments, for there are many more than we are aware of. And each somehow contained the other. Though vast distances may separate them, they are yet connected. Worlds within worlds; universes within universes. I felt. . . I felt that I had touched everything that existed, has existed and is yet to exist. Don't ask me to explain, for how can one gaze upon the infinite? How can one be connected to all things? How can everything be contained within itself? I don't know. I know only that that is what I saw, and that is what I knew. It was miraculous, and we have already witnessed many miracles which we can produce no explanation for. I knew only that I looked into the mind of a god, and I am filled with wonder.'
ii
In Orbelon's World a child was born to Lakewander; a boy, who she named Astar. The child was revered among his kind, for legend had it that he was the son of a great being, a god, who had come into the world at a time of tremendous upheaval.
That being was the Swordbearer, Leth, himself the essence of the Creator.
The legend told that it was through the Swordbearer that the world was saved, for he fought and slew the evil Kancanitrix who devoured the world, and also vanquished the wicked Noeticist who gave men false minds and made them his unwitting slaves. In so doing the Swordbearer banished evil from the world.
It was said that the Swordbearer was the true son of the Creator. A great book was written, detailing his exploits. He had been sent once before, long ago, so it was written, and had promised to return. And the Creator, caring so passionately for its Creation, and knowing the suffering of its peoples who believed themselves abandoned, sent its son for the second time to end their suffering and to establish a new relationship between the people and itself.
When the Swordbearer's task was done and the time was come for him to leave the world once more, he implanted his seed in a virgin, that she might bear his child, the child who was to be named Astar. Thus, through the union of human and divinity, the living spirit of the Creator was forever to be made manifest within the peoples of its wo
rld. The Creator entered the illusion of life and became part of the creation it had made. From this time on the Creator was at all times aware, witness - through Astar's eyes - to the world and its problems. Never again would evil arise with such force. Never again would the people of the world believe themselves abandoned.
So it was written in the Great Book, for all to see and understand.
There were others, though, who laid claim to a different knowledge. They declared that Astar was not the son of the Swordbearer. He had been conceived, so they said, not through the union of woman and man-god, but through the union of woman and sword. His true sire, their creed held, had been the sacred weapon wielded by the Swordbearer during his time in the world, and he had been conceived without the will of the Swordbearer. Hence Astar was not the true embodiment of the Creator, and his word and motives would always be held in doubt. Many sought to discover the whereabouts of the sacred weapon that had sired him, for they believed that it held the key to greater secrets and knowledge of the world of the gods.
Time clouded the truth, as is its nature, and none really knew how it had been at that time.
iii
On the far side of Enchantment an old woman attuned her thoughts with the coalescence of unusual energies known as the Well of Immaculate Vision. Before her, or perhaps within her, she realized a merging of possibilities which appeared as fleeting, sometimes interweaving, visions and impressions emerging within the flux. She sat there for many hours, in silence, never moving. Her entire being, from single unknowable motes of consciousness to individual cells, was still, concentrated fully upon the task of attunement, receptive, witnessing, seeking and experiencing meaningful conjunctions and revelations within the eddies and flows of potential that were presented to her.