by James Enge
Merlin was staring at him, breathing heavily. “No,” he said theatrically. “No, that is not good enough. You, and your god of Fate, and all the world will be swept away when I give Zahkaar the victory!”
He sprang at Morlock, wrapping his long fingers around his son’s neck, screaming incoherent abuse. The two men fell struggling to the ground.
Ambrosia and Aloê ran over to separate them. Ambrosia was rolling her eyes as she did so, a cue Aloê hoped was opaque to the Two Powers. She herself thought Merlin was pretending too hard, but guessed that the Two Powers weren’t subtle enough to notice it.
Aloê dragged Morlock to one side of the island while Merlin and Ambrosia went to the other.
Aloê glared a question, asking him as hard as she could without speaking, Did you get it?
Morlock shrugged, a gesture that Aloê translated as, Eh. That was the best clue she could hope for, probably.
“Great Torlan!” she shouted. “We bring you a message from the Balancer. It is urgent that it comes to you alone. Bring us over to your throne, if you would.”
Abruptly, Morlock and Aloê were standing beside the black-and-white presence on the white-and-black throne.
“I was with the Balancer at the time he died,” Aloê said hurriedly, not allowing herself to be disoriented. “He told us that time would soon end and his purpose was gone. But he gave us a secret that will ensure your victory over the Other Power.”
Tell me, thundered the god.
“If I tell you, I tell him,” pointed out Aloê. “We must conceal ourselves from the Enemy Power. My colleague must weave a magic called the, uh, the—”
“Final Shroud,” suggested Morlock.
“—the Final Shroud about you. And then we can tell you what we have come to tell you.”
Do so, said Torlan, and emitted talic gusts of amusement at Zahkaar’s expense.
Morlock went into deep vision, and Aloê followed. As her coppery talic avatar stood beside his monochrome one, she watched him weave a talic pattern of reflection about the self-styled Power of Fate. It was like a talic mirror, where the Power could see nothing but itself. The Power’s own talic force was used to blind the Power to anything else.
Once Aloê caught the mental knack of what Morlock was doing, she joined in and helped him. Soon they had Torlan completely cocooned in the talic mirror.
So this is victory, mused Torlan, in talic symbols that reverberated and re-echoed like thunder in a narrow canyon. I see nothing but myself . . . except for you two.
Morlock dropped out of vision and was gone. Aloê found it more difficult to find her way back to her body, but the sense that Torlan’s entire malefic attention had focused on her was a great encouragement. Eventually, she opened her eyes to see Morlock’s concerned face hovering over her.
“Did we do it?” she asked.
For answer, he waved at the black-and-white throne. It was empty. Across a great gulf, she saw Ambrosia and Merlin dancing around a white-and-black throne that was equally empty.
It was true, then. The Two Powers were merely two parts of a talic machine. Without the driving hate of the other part, each became void.
And the glowing fog was gone.
Hand in hand, Morlock and Aloê ran down the black-and-white steps into the wide dead space where the killing mist had been. They met Merlin and Ambrosia at the stream and embraced, laughing.
“Well, Guardians,” said Merlin wryly. “When you tell this tale to the Graith, don’t forget to remind them that the Two Powers were defeated by old exiled Ambrosius.”
Aloê nearly replied furiously—she didn’t know what, exactly. But the old man’s amused look stopped her. If he said these things to be annoying, perhaps it was better to not be annoyed.
“They were right to fear us,” said Morlock, looking at the empty thrones.
The old man clapped him on the lower of his shoulders and didn’t speak.
“I guess you’ll be going back to the Wardlands, then,” Ambrosia said glumly.
They would be going back to the Wardlands, then . . . a fact that Aloê had only just begun to accept in her heart. They would not die, on that dark rock, in that prison without walls, while idiot-gods clamored above them. They could go home.
“Yes, honey,” Aloê said. “Right away, in fact.”
“I suppose it’s against the rules to hear from your exiled sisters sometimes,” Ambrosia went on, giving Morlock a sidelong look.
Aloê was trying to figure out a diplomatic way of saying yes when Morlock surprised her by saying, “No. There are no rules, except what maintains the Guard. Let me hear from you. From you both,” he added hesitantly. She gave him a brief glare, a longer grin.
“Well, good fortune to you, Guardians,” Merlin said. “I say it to you and no others of your Graith. For myself, I think I will see if I can take apart one or both of those talic devices we thought were gods. The remains should be instructive.” He nodded and turned away.
“I’d better stick around for that,” Ambrosia said. “If he knows something, we should know it.”
“Agreed,” said Morlock, and hugged her good-bye.
The angry girl, blinking back tears, waved at Aloê and ran to catch up with her father. They were quarrelling about something before the Guardians were out of earshot.
Aloê took Morlock’s hand, and they walked away together under the dark blue eaves of Tychar. They were alone, and weaponless, entering the deadliest place in the world in the jaws of winter.
But they were happy there, and all through the long bitter road home.
Laent is a flat or shield-shaped land-mass bordered by ocean to the west and south and empty space to the east; north of Laent is a region of uninhabitable cold; south of Laent is a large and largely unexplored continent, Qajqapca. Beyond that is believed to be an impassable zone of fire.
Along the western edge of Laent lies the Wardlands, a highly developed but secretive culture. It has no government, as such, but its borders are protected by a small band of seers and warriors called the Graith of Guardians.
Dividing Laent into two unequal halves, north and south, are a pair of mountain ranges: the Whitethorn Range (running from the Western Ocean eastward) and the Blackthorn Range (running from the Eastern Edge westward). There is a pass between the two mountain ranges, the Dolich Kund (later the Kirach Kund). North of the Dolich Kund there are only two human cities of any note, Narkunden and Aflraun. The rest of the north is a heavily wooded and mountainous region, inhabited by humans and others of a more or less fabulous nature (e.g., the werewolf city of Wuruyaaria).
The Whitethorn Range, by custom, forms the northern border of the Wardlands. The Blackthorn Range is divided between the untamed dragons and the Heidhhaiar (Deep Kingdoms) of the dwarves.
Immediately south of the Whitethorn Range was the wreckage of the old Empire of Ontil, ruined by its rulers’ ambitions, ineptitude and misused powers. A period of general chaos and more-or-less continuous warfare obtained in these lands until the advent of the Vraidish tribes and the rise of the Second Empire of Ontil (some generations after the present story).
South of the former Empire of Ontil lay the so-called Kingdom of Kaen. The ancient cities of the Kaeniar considered themselves at perpetual war with the Wardlands, which lay just across the Narrow Sea. The Wardlands, however, took little notice of the Kaeniar, or any other domain of the unguarded lands.
The region between the Grartan Mountains and the Whitethorns was called the Gap of Lone by inhabitants of the unguarded lands. Inhabitants of (and exiles from) the Wardlands called it “the Maze,” because of the magical protections placed on it.
Immediately south of the Blackthorns was a wooded region of extremely poor repute, Tychar. Farther south was the Anhikh Kômos of Cities, Ontil’s great rival who unaccountably failed to take advantage of Ontil’s fall to extend its domains. The largest Anhikh city, where the Kômarkh lives, is Vakhnhal, along the southern coast of Laent. Anhi may or may not extend its dom
ain to the Eastern Edge of the world—accounts differ.
There was no universally accepted religious belief, except in Anhi, where the government enforces the worship of Torlan and Zahkaar (Fate and Chaos).
In Ontil an eclectic set of gods are worshipped or not worshipped, especially (under the influence of Coranian exiles from the Wardlands) the Strange Gods, including Death, Justice, Peace, Misery, Love, and Memory.
In Kaen, each city and many places in the country have at least one local god, whose priesthood serves as one of the two branches of government (the other being the military and civil power of the tirgans). There is, at least in theory, a higher rank of national gods, and an upper echelon of universal gods, although their actual existence has been disputed by a significant minority of Kaenish heresiarchs.
In the Wardlands at least three gods, or three aspects of one god, are worshipped: the Creator, the Sustainer, and the Avenger (“Creator, Keeper, and King”).
The dwarves of the Wardlands evidently assent to these beliefs. (At any rate, they have been known to swear by these deities.) But they have another, perhaps an older, belief in immortal ancestor spirits who watch the world and judge it beyond the western edge of the world. The spirits of the virtuous dead collect in the west through the day and night, and pass through at the moment of dawn, when the sun enters the world and the gate in the west is opened. Spirits of the evil dead, or spirits that have been bound in some way, may not pass through the gate in the west. Hence, dwarves each day (at sunrise, or when they awake) praise the rising of the sun and the passage of the good ghosts to Those-Who-Watch in the west.
1. Astronomical Remarks
The sky of Laent has three moons: Chariot, Horseman, and Trumpeter (in descending order of size).
The year has 375 days. The months are marked by the rising or setting of the second moon, Horseman. So that, if Horseman sets on the first day of Bayring, the penultimate month, it rises again on the first of Borderer, the last month. It sets after sunset on the first day of Cymbals, the first month of the new year. All three moons set simultaneously on this occasion. The number of months are uneven—15—so that Horseman rises or sets on the first morning of the year in alternating years. Years where Horseman sets on the first day of the Cymbals are, idiomatically, “bright years”; those where Horseman sets with Trumpeter and Chariot on 1 Cymbals are known as “dark years.”
The period of Chariot (the largest moon, whose rising and setting marks the seasons) is 187.5 days. (So: a season is 93.75 days.)
The period of Horseman is 50 days.
The period of Trumpeter is 15 days. A half-cycle of Trumpeter is a “call.” Calls are either “bright” or “dark” depending on whether Trumpeter is aloft or not. (Usage: “He doesn’t expect to be back until next bright call.”)
The seasons are not irregular, as on Earth. But the moons’ motion is not uniform through the sky: motion is faster near the horizons, slowest at zenith. Astronomical objects are brighter in the west, dimmer in the east.
The three moons and the sun rise in the west and set in the east. The stars have a different motion entirely, rotating NWSE around a celestial pole. The pole points at a different constellation among a group of seven (the polar constellations) each year. (Hence, a different group of nonpolar constellations is visible near the horizons each year.) This seven-year cycle (the Ring) is the basis for dating, with individual years within it named for their particular polar constellations.
The polar constellations are the Reaper, the Ship, the Hunter, the Door, the Kneeling Man, the River, the Wolf.
There is an intrapolar constellation, the Hands, within the space inscribed by the motion of the pole.
In the Wardlands, years are dated from the founding of New Moorhope, the center of learning. According to Professor Gabriel McNally, the “year of fire,” when the Guile of Masters invaded the Wardlands, was New Moorhope 2748, Year of the Hunter, in Ring 394—a “bright year.” The year following was N.M. 2749, Year of the Door, Ring 394, a “dark year.” The conflict between the Two Powers and the Ambrosii are harder to date specifically, but Dr. McNally tentatively concludes it was a “dark” year, late in Ring 394.
The reader should know that Dr. McNally’s views have been disputed, especially by Julian Emrys, grandson of the eminent Ambrosian scholar H. N. Emrys. Julian Emrys’ own early reputation as a scholar was gradually obliterated by his bizarre claims to be one of “those-who-know” and (in his own words) “the last descendant of the ancient Ambrosian kings on Earth.” But, as Dr. McNally conceded, in his fair-minded if blistering review of Emrys’ New Evidence of the Old Ambrosians, “the fact that Mr. Emrys is crazy does not necessarily imply he is in error.”
In any case, settling on a definite date for these events is a little like trying to decide in what year young Sigurd slew his dragon or old Beowulf faced his.
2. A “bright year” and a “dark year”
Bright:
1. Cymbals.
New Year. Winter begins.
1st: Chariot & Trumpeter set. Horseman rises.
8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
2. Jaric.
1st: Horseman sets. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
3. Brenting.
1st: Horseman rises. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
4. Drums.
1st: Horseman sets. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
Midnight of 94th day of the year (19 Drums):
Chariot rises. Spring begins.
5. Rain.
1st: Horseman rises. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
6. Marrying.
1st: Horseman sets. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
7. Ambrose.
1st: Horseman rises. 8th and 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
8. Harps.
1st: Horseman sets. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
Evening of the 188th day of year (19 Harps):
Chariot sets; Midyear—Summer begins.
9. Tohrt.
1st: Horseman rises. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
10. Remembering.
1st: Horseman sets. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
11. Victory.
1st: Horseman rises. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
12. Harvesting.
1st: Horseman sets. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
6th: Chariot rises, noon of 281st day of year. Fall begins.
13. Mother and Maiden.
1st: Horseman rises. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
14. Bayring.
1st: Horseman sets. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
15. Borderer.
1st: Horseman rises. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
Dark:
1. Cymbals.
New Year. Winter begins.
1st: Chariot, Horseman, & Trumpeter all set.
8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
2. Jaric.
1st: Horseman rises. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
3. Brenting.
1st: Horseman sets. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
4. Drums.
1st: Horseman rises. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
Midnight of 94th day of the year (19 Drums):
Chariot rises. Spring begins.
5. Rain.
1st: Horseman sets. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
6. Marrying.
1st: Horseman rises. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
7. Ambrose.
1st: Horseman sets. 8th and 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
8. Harps.
1st: Horseman rises. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
Evening of the 188th day of year (19 Harps):
Chariot sets; Midyear—Summer begins.
9. Tohrt.
1st: Horseman sets. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
10. Remembering.
1st: Horseman rises. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
11. Victory.
1st: Horseman sets. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
12. Harvesting.
1st: Horseman rises. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
6th: Chariot
rises, noon of 281st day of year. Fall begins.
13. Mother and Maiden.
1st: Horseman sets. 8th & 23rd: Trumpeter rises.
14. Bayring.
1st: Horseman rises. 13th: Trumpeter rises.
15. Borderer.
1st: Horseman sets. 3rd & 18th: Trumpeter rises.
According to Gabriel McNally’s reconstruction (generally accepted by scholars of Ambrosian legend, always excepting Julian Emrys), the Wardlands were an anarchy with no formal government at all. According to legend, the Wardlands had not been a kingdom since the golden age at the beginning of time, when the King (usually identified with the divine aspect known as God Avenger) ruled in person in Laent and elsewhere. Since then it has been considered blasphemous, or at least irrationally presumptuous, for any person to assert a claim to rule the Wardlands. Those who try to do so are exiled or (in extreme cases) killed.
What in other cultures would have been state functions (national defense, dispute resolution, even road-building and repair, etc.) were carried on by voluntary cooperatives: the Arbiters of the Peace, the Guild of Silent Men, the League of Rhetors, etc. Most famous in the unguarded lands was the Graith of Guardians, sworn to maintain the guard.
The Graith had three ranks of Guardian: the lowest and most numerous were the thains, wearing a gray cape of office. They were hardly more than candidates to the Graith proper, and they undertook to obey their seniors in the Graith, even more senior thains.
Vocates, in contrast, were full members of the Graith, privileged to stand and speak at the Graith’s councils (known as Stations). Their only obligation was to defend the Guard, and the Guarded, as they saw fit. Their cloak of office was bloodred.
Most senior in the Graith were the Three Summoners. They had no power to command but were generally conceded the authority to lead the vocates of the Graith proper. The Summoner of the City convened and presided over Stations of the Graith. The Summoner of the Outer Lands was charged with watching for threats to the Guard from the unguarded lands. The Summoner of the Inner Lands was charged with watching for internal threats: those who would try to disrupt the fertile anarchy of the Wardlands and establish the sterility of political order.