Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  The Signalman

  The Ki-Mon and Qi stood among the towering trees of the Great Wood and looked around warily. “This feels very wrong,” the Ki-Mon said. “What do you mean?” The Ki-Mon looked over at Qi, “Have you been in the Wood often?” Qi shook her head, “My people have limited contact with the Hunt. We respect the people of the Wood, and the Wood itself, but we prefer our cities and our open spaces.” She added, “We’ve always been a bit more Solarian than Lunite in Drego.” “Mm,” the Ki-Mon continued to glance around, staff and knife held ready, “My people have spent a great deal of time in the Wood, and travel here frequently. Not this far south, obviously, but we have a history here.” She shook her head, “Never have I felt this way in the Great Wood. Something terrible has happened to this place.” Before Qi could respond, there was a loud crashing in the brush and a Huntress stumbled into their small clearing. She fell at their feet, bleeding from a multitude of wounds. She clutched a long knife in one hand and a broken spear in the other. She looked up at the two adventurers. “Flee,” she moaned softly, “Flee this place while you can. The Huntsmen,” she coughed and blood spattered on the moss-covered ground, “The Huntsmen have gone mad.” There was a clamor from the other side of the trees, rough male voices shouting and the sound of weapons. The Ki-Mon approached the trees, Qi following close behind. The Gunfighter looked down at the wounded Huntress. “Don’t worry,” she drew her guns, walking after the Ki-Mon, “we’ll take care of this.” She stepped through the trees next to the Ki-Mon in time to see the last Huntsman standing fall over, a spear through his heart. He was surrounded by his companions, all of them dead. “Or,” Qi said, eyebrow raised, “they can all just kill each other.” The Ki-Mon studied the scene intently, “What goes on here?” she whispered. Qi gripped her shoulder, “I don’t know,” she said, forcing the Ki-Mon to face her, “and I don’t much care. We have more pressing concerns.” Seemingly heedless of her partner, the Ki-Mon studied the scene, brow furrowed in thought. Then, “You are right,” she turned away, heading back to the clearing, “we should continue on.” When they returned, they saw that the Huntress had died. They looked sadly upon her, each paying their respects to this dead stranger. The Ki-Mon whispered a prayer to Luna and Qi muttered a short Solarian death chant. When the Ki-Mon moved to walk away, Qi stopped her. “Wait,” the Gunfighter said, “shouldn’t we bury her?” The Ki-Mon shook her head, “The Wood will claim her body,” she explained, “it is their way.” She walked on without another glance for the fallen Huntress. Qi stood quietly a few moments more, then followed her. “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked the other woman. “Not entirely,” the Ki-Mon replied, “but I figure if we keep close to the wall and head west, we should--” she stopped and held up her hand, “Wait,” she said, “do you hear that?” Qi listened, then her eyes grew wide, “Yes,” she replied, “it sounds like... green?” The Ki-Mon nodded, “I’m glad you think so too. It means I’m not going mad.” Qi chuckled, “Or we both are.” The Ki-Mon smiled, then looked into the distance, “There’s one more thing to drive us mad. Tell me, does that look like music to you?” Qi looked, gaped and nodded slowly, “It’s beautiful...” “Shall we approach?” But Qi was already walking toward the impossible spectacle as though entranced. The Ki-Mon followed. They walked for most of the night, any time they began to lose their way, a piece of sensory confusion would guide them. They were following the smell of humor when they finally arrived at their destination. He was old, yet appeared strong and vital. Long white hair flowed to his knees and there were few lines on his beardless face. He wore simple garments of sturdy material and they fit him well, clinging to his thin wiry frame. He was barefoot, and wore a thick band of cloth across his eyes. He sat comfortably on a rock near an opening in the thorn wall, an ornate lantern on a shepherd’s crook casting an inviting green glow over the immediate area. He played a pleasant tune on a set of pipes. He stopped playing when they stepped into the circle of the lantern’s light. “Welcome,” he said, his voice melodious and kind, “I would bid you be seated, but I’ve no chairs to offer you.” “We don’t mind standing,” Qi assured him. “So, the chief Gunfighter of Drego comes to visit me,” he smiled, “and one of the Bah’hren as well,” he nodded in the Ki-Mon’s direction, “I am honored.” “What did he just call you?” Qi looked over at the Ki-Mon and the other woman looked as though she’d been struck. “How,” she whispered, “how... why did you...” “As though I could not recognize a woman of the Clan Bah’hree,” he said with a soft chuckle. The Ki-Mon’s fists clenched, “Do not speak that name!” she cried in anger and fear, “you court the end of the world itself with your careless words!” He laughed, “Do not fear, daughter of the Bah’hren,” he said with a wave of his hand, “the world will end whatever I do or say, but be at ease,” his voice became even more kindly, “I may speak the words of power freely here, with no fear of consequence.” He tucked the pipes into a pouch at his waist and settled back on his rock, “But you have questions for me, yes?” He grinned, “And I have answers for you. Come closer,” he beckoned to them, “and let us see if they match.”

  Answers and Questions

  “Long ago,” the Signalman began his tale, “in ages past, during the early days of the First World, the people ofFaery came together and-” “Wait a minute,” the Ki-Mon held up her hand, “what is this? We came for answers, not some mythspinner’s tale.” The Signalman smiled down at the two women from his perch on the rock. Qi and the Ki-Mon were seated cross-legged on the thick grass within the circle of the lantern’s light. They looked up at him expectantly. He laughed. “I am giving you an answer, Bah’hren,” he said, “I invited you to see if your questions matched my answers, I never promised they would.” Qi shook her head, “But this makes no sense. Why don’t we just ask our questions, and see if you have the answers?” “Because that isn’t how it’s done, my dear,” the Signalman said patiently, “I have information for you. You may not think you need some of it right now, but when you do, you will be glad you have it.” The two women looked at him skeptically. He sniffed the air, then laughed again. “Ah, the scent of skepticism,” he sighed, “such a singular odor. Look,” he said to them, “how about you just indulge an old man and when I am finished, you may ask any question I have not answered. Is that acceptable?” Qi and the Ki-Mon looked at one another a moment, then back at the Signalman. They nodded. After listening a moment, he smiled. “Good,” he said. Then, “Okay. As I was saying... “Long ago, in ages past, during the early days of the First World, the people of Faery came together and decided to deliver unto their Creators a gift.” He turned his covered eyes toward the pair, “They loved Solar and Luna very much, you see, and felt the need to honor them. The people of Faery are very particular about honor and reverence.” He cleared his throat and continued, “And so there was much deliberation over what form the gift would take. It would have to be spectacular, something the Goddess and God did not already have. They discussed the matter, then debated it, finally arguing over it for many thousands of years. What the Faer Folk did not realize, however, was that they were being watched very closely by another. The young goddess Umbra had taken an interest in their project, and sought to make her influence felt. “She went first to Old Crow, of the Bird Spirits, and whispered in his ear. ‘Long have the Faer Folk spoken of honoring and praising their Creators,’ she said, ‘but what have you done save bicker and argue? I know a gift that would please them mightily, and if the idea came from you, Solar and Luna would know the Bird Spirits to be the most loyal and generous of all the Faer Folk.’ “Old Crow spoke then in turn to all his people, who brought the idea to the Lizard Kings and the White Stag, who presented the plan to the pixie tribes and the Nature Spirits. Finally, it was decided. The Faer Folk would give life to one of the many worlds currently orbiting the young stars of a new galaxy. As it existed on the physical plane, it would be far removed from the grandeur of the Higher Realms, and would need to conform to the new physical rul
es the Creators had set forth for the universe at large. They would call it the Real World, and it would be a thing of beauty. “The Nature Spirits shared their aspects with this world, making the earth fertile, causing oceans and rivers to form and sweet air to blow gently across both land and water. From the heavens would come fire in the form of lightning to cleanse the land when it grew too dense with the vegetation of the dryads. The Animal Spirits made creatures based on their own aspects and set them to roam this new land feeding on its bounty and each other, creating a self-sustaining life-cycle. “The gift was well received by the Creators, who were touched by the love shown them by the Faer Folk. They walked the length and breadth of the Real World for millennia, marveling at its splendor and beauty. It was then that Solar, who still suffered the loss of his beloved daughter, suggested they create new beings for this world, who would lift their own voices in praise and worship as the Faeries did. Luna felt differently, believing they should leave this world as they’d found it. She offered this caution to her husband: ‘Life such as you suggest would be ill-suited to this world,’ she said, ‘They would not know us as the Faer Folk do, for they would be too far removed from the Higher Realms, and therefore could choose not to praise us nor even to believe in us at all. They would be intelligent, yet mortal,’ she warned, ‘Their awareness of their mortality would drive them ceaselessly toward achievement, while their awareness of their intelligence would make them raise themselves above all living things. With no direct knowledge of the true divinity, they would instead believe themselves to be gods, and would bring ruin upon this planet in their arrogance. I do not advise it, beloved.’ “And so did Solar agree, though was secretly dismayed, for he missed his little Aura deeply, and sought anything to fill that void. It was then that Umbra did visit her father, to offer counsel. ‘It is not to be borne, Father,’ she said sweetly, ‘that you should be denied your due in this way.’ Thus did she bend her father’s will to her own, for his vanity was his great weakness. “It was decided between them that Solar would create a race of beings that would know only him. They would not be of Luna, and therefore would know little of her, and think of her even less. ‘But what of Luna’s warning?’ Solar asked, ‘Mortal beings with no knowledge of their creator will bring devastation upon this world, on that I must agree with her.’ Umbra smiled then, her affected innocence growing, ‘Why, Father, the answer to that is simple,’ she said, ‘Make them immortal, and allow them to know you directly.’ Solar was not convinced immediately, ‘To do such a thing, daughter,’ he said, ‘would require that I call down the Spark itself from the Higher Realms into the Lower, making it part of my creation.’ “‘What of it?’ Umbra shrugged, ‘Are you not Lord of Creation?’ Her father looked sternly at her, ‘You know such a thing is not done, child. The physical world cannot know the direct touch of the Spark.’ Umbra shook her head, coming close to whisper in her father’s ear, ‘Why do you bind yourself needlessly to these rules, Father? Why, even, have these rules been written?’ Solar was uncomfortable. He had asked himself these very questions. ‘Luna felt it was necessary for the universe to have order. There must be rules and restrictions, lest chaos engulf all of Creation.’ Umbra waved his concerns away, ‘Foolish nonsense,’ she said, ‘Mother simply knows that your power is greater than hers. She is jealous, and wishes to deny you your proper glory.’ And this struck hard at Solar’s heart, for he had long felt it to be true. “And so Lord Solar took it upon himself to create this life. He molded their bodies from the flesh and bones of the world itself, and infused them with souls made of pure Spark. They were the Sol Ky Taan, the Children of the Sun, and he gave them the vast southern continent of this world to be their home. A charm was woven into their creation, to keep them hidden from his wife. She would never know of them, unless they were brought directly to her attention. So then did Solar swear the Faer Folk to secrecy. They did not understand why, but they did as their Lord bid them, never speaking of this new race to Luna. “That is when Umbra paid a visit to Luna and said to her, ‘Mother, do you know what your husband has been up to, hidden even from your all-seeing eyes?’ “When Luna saw what her husband had done, she was enraged. Confronting him, she was met only with cold defiance. Their argument echoed across all the Realms for eons, until at last she left him, deserting the greater universe for the First World. She took solace in the arms of a dryad named Druid, and in their love he found himself changed. He went down into the Real World in his new form, walking the earth as the Green Man, planting the Great Wood wherever he walked. Luna became pregnant from this coupling, and soon gave birth to four children, two girls and two boys, whom she named Vega, Drego, Pacha and Zill. They lived with her in the land of the Faer Folk for many thousands of years, until Umbra visited them as well. “‘Why do you tarry here, my brothers and sisters?’ she asked them, ‘when your father has created a paradise on the surface of the world below?’ They explained that they were forbidden by their mother from setting foot in the Real World, that it was not a place for divine beings to dwell. ‘Come now,’ Umbra chided them, ‘are you not too old to cling so tightly to our mother’s skirts? Do you not wish to strike out on your own and make a true life for yourselves?’ It was true. Luna’s children had begun to grow bored and restless among the people of Faerie. So, emboldened by their older sister’s gibes, they left the First World for the physical realm. They settled far to the north of Solar’s creations, taking pieces of a land they would come to call Amorlia and settling those Lands as their own. In the process, they discovered strange animals in their father’s Wood. Descendants of those creatures made by the Ape Spirits, their time in the Wood had changed them. They knew the use of tools, and had begun to craft their own. They were learning to think beyond their instincts, but were still little more than beasts. Curious, and finding the forms of these ape-people compatible with their own, the children of Luna mated with them, thus seeding the world with the Spark and birthing the first human race. “Now Solar became enraged. He had long suspected Luna’s infidelity, but here was living proof. And her bastard offspring had now created the very creatures Luna had once counseled against! In his anger, he took a female of the Sol Ky Taan. She gave birth to twins, a girl named Roma and a boy named Romus, and Solar used them to spawn a human race of his own. But his children were constantly at odds, and soon their human race factioned, causing the first war to be waged in the heat of the southern deserts. The war ended when Roma slew her brother, then took her own life. She hated him, yet could not bear to live without him. In the face of this war, Solar’s anger cooled, and he felt pity for this struggling race of humans. With hopes of bringing them the same enlightenment Luna’s children were sharing with their own human race, he set the Sol Ky Taan to act as protectors and teachers, hoping his first creations might soothe the humans’ warlike ways. He created a home for them, high in the air above the southern continent. From this place the Sol Ky Taan could keep watch over their humans and teach them. “Who knows what may have happened, had the Sol Ky Taan been left to their own devices? But it was then that Umbra walked among them, stirring up resentment where there was once none. ‘Oh, my poor deprived cousins,’ she said sadly, ‘It brings grief to my heart to know you are denied your birthright.’ When queried, Umbra feigned surprise. ‘You do not know? Why, there is a world above this one, called Faerie. It is a wondrous world made of pure Spark, where all live in luxury, free of want and toil. It is peopled by beings much like yourselves,’ she told them, adding, ‘It is curious that your creator did not see fit to share it with you.’ “So then did the Sol Ky Taan become curious, and attempted to visit the realm of Faerie, but they were forbidden by the Lord Solar. He had been advised by Umbra that to allow the Sol Ky Taan into Faerie would cause them to neglect their charges in the Real World. Many of the Sol Ky Taan were angry at this, and turned away from Solar and their duties. They formed an army, and set out to invade the First World. There were those among them who remained true to their duty, but they were few and easily ign
ored. “The invasion was short-lived, thwarted instantly by Solar. In his anger, he sought to punish his defiant creations by hurling their celestial home down into the world, killing them instantly. Solar’s anger was so great, he was heedless of the humans living on that continent, and the resulting disaster destroyed their civilization, damning the few survivors to generations of barbarism and hardship.” The Signalman stopped then, pulling his pipes from the sash at his waist and playing a soft sad tune. He played for many long moments until Qi spoke. “Is there more to the story?” she asked, eagerly. “Of course,” he nodded, “but that is all I can tell you now, except for this,” he held up one finger. “All of the Sol Ky Taan were killed in the disaster, save one. A sole member of that celestial race survived, escaping here to this time and place.” “How?” the Ki-Mon was curious. The Signalman shook his head, “That is not my answer to give, though it is one that will be found before all is said and done.” He stretched his legs with a loud sigh. “But,” he said, “you had questions of your own to ask me. So, ask.” He gestured to each of them. A few moments passed, then the Ki-Mon stood, “Signalman,” she said, “what does the future hold for us? Will the free people of these Lands be victorious over the tyranny of the Nazeans?” The Signalman chuckled, “That is two questions, though I will answer as I am able. The answer to your second question is yes, though I can say no more than that. To your first, I will say only this: Your destiny lies at a crossroads, Ki-Mon of the Wild Clan. A choice will be laid before you, and how you choose will determine the fate of all your people. Now, Gunfighter, what is your question?” Qi stood and gestured at the thorn wall. “What lies beyond there, in the Land once known as Pacha?” The Signalman was silent before saying, “I cannot tell you.” Qi opened her mouth to protest, but he said, “You must find out for yourself.” “What?” Qi asked. The Signalman pointed to the opening in the thorns, “Enter the Land behind the wall, and find the answers you seek. A trial will reveal itself when you do, and how well you fare will determine what role, if any, Pacha will play in what is to come.” He stood up from his rock and gripped the staff that held the lantern. “And thus ends our time together. Ki-Mon,” he said, turning his head in her direction, “your choice is upon you. You may follow the Gunfighter into the Land of Pacha, or you may step outside the lantern’s light and be instantly transported to your home. Your mother will have need of you before sunset tomorrow, and all the Clan’s destiny will be in your hands. But know this,” he warned, “if you two separate here and now, you shall never again meet in this life.” The two women looked at one another, the Ki-Mon struggling with her choice. Qi stepped forward and lay a hand on her shoulder. “Your choice is clear,” she said. “But, you need--” Qi smiled, “All that I need are strapped to my hips. You are the Ki- Mon of your Clan,” she said, “your choice is clear.” The Ki-Mon nodded, “It is so. The needs of my family will forever outweigh all others. But,” she sighed, “this is a cruel choice.” “Most are,” Qi said. The two women hugged one another then, for they had grown close in their time together, and were saddened that time would be so short. At last, they stood ready to depart. Before they did so, the Ki-Mon held out her staff for Qi to take. “Please,” she said, “it is a fine weapon, and one you may have need of in a strange and likely hostile Land. It was hewn from the trunk of an ironwood tree, and cannot be broken. We make our spears from the same wood, and once sharpened, their points never dull.” Qi simply nodded her thanks, saluted the Ki-Mon and stepped out of the glow of the lantern. The Ki-Mon was alone with the Signalman. She looked up at him and asked one last question. “What lies in store for my Clan?” “The time will come very soon,” he said, “when all of you will meet your destinies.” Then he would say no more, simply playing a tune on his pipes no matter what question she asked him. So, her heart heavy, the Ki-Mon stepped out of the lantern’s light, away from the thorn wall toward home.