Turn6
From Yarnspinners2
Refresh Page (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=Turn6&action=purge)
<< Previous Turn | Next Turn>>
| Table of contents |
C'tis
"Let me tell why there are no more giants.
"When Aetonyx was an old lizard, the climate on our world turned particularly cold for a spell, and the giants came down from their mountains. In normal times, the Jotuns stuck to the high passes, eating the occasional adventurer or burying a trade caravan in an avalanche, as a warning to other races to stay out of their lands (and also as a food source during their eternal winter). The giants were content merely to pick of stragglers who wandered into their lands; they would no sooner willingly enter the warm, muggy swamps of C'tis than lizardfolk would ascend the cold, dry heights. The two races co-existed thus for aeons.
"But then the world grew colder. Some say Rimtur, Lord of Frost, blew on the world with all his might in a vain attempt to seduce the Lady Silane, she who dwells in the icy chill between the stars. Others say that the polar ice caps spread past the critical latitude and triggered a positive reinforcement feedback loop, which, along with increased reabsorption of carbon dioxide, caused runaway world-wide glaciation. Whatever the reason, the giants began to come down the mountains, and soon plagued the lowlands.
"Now Aetonyx had been away for many years, as I'm sure you know, traveling to other worlds, where many of his most famous adventures were had. But he felt himself growing slower, his tongue struggling to catch the young flies, his legs almost too sluggish to scamper away from mischief in time. So he returned to his birth-nest to lie in the warm summer sun of his youth, to teach the hatchlings clever tricks, to tell stories of all the worlds he had seen and the gods he had fooled, and finally to mingle his bone-dust with that of his egg-mothers.
"But when he got to the Home Rock, it was bitterly cold, though it should have been early summer. He met few lizards on the outskirts of the realm, and all were cold-shocked into a dull stupor. At last he made his way to the underground caverns, where the people of C'tis had withdrawn to huddle for warmth, and there he learned of the giants' cruel rampage. They were tearing down cities, digging up egg-nests, eating both crop and farmer before either made it to market, and killing all who challenged them directly. The giants were massive, many hundreds of centimeters high, and all the great heroes of the land had already fallen trying to conquer them.
"There was a leader of the giants, one Graak Bouldertosser, who had been particularly instrumental in urging on his people in the destruction of both lizard and warmling lands. It was rumored that he had stopped up all the volcanoes in the world, and caused the clouds to blot out the sun, so that all heat would gradually be leached from the earth, and all creatures who need warmth to live, especially lizards, would die out. Already the lizards were suffering too much to leave their deep underground caverns. Only the Vanjarls, who themselves preferred cold climates, had survived against Graak for very long. They had sought him out in battle six times in as many months, and yet always they were forced to pull back, numb and bloodied, while Graak and his troops appeared unwearied.
"Whatever you may say about Aetonyx and his long absence, he could not now ignore the desperate plight of C'tis, and so he traveled to the camp of the Vanjarls, to perhaps win by cunning what force alone could not achieve. But the commanders of the Vanjarl troops did not think much of the elderly, slightly limping lizard. 'Go back to your hiding hole,' they said to him. 'You've as much chance of harming Graak sound asleep in some dark little cave as you do here.' And they went back to planning one final desperate assault.
"The next day in battle, Graak's left boot troubled him all day, but when he unlaced it that evening he could find no trace of any rock or bone that might have fallen in. The following day, blisters began to appear, and for all he shook his boot out nothing came of it. By the fourth day, he was limping heavily; by the seventh, he could barely walk. On the eleventh day, he led his troops in a sneak attack against the Vanjarl camps, to wipe them out once and for all. But as he was leading the charge he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his left leg, as if something small in his shoe had just bit him with razor sharp teeth; and it was the final straw. His leg gave in to the constant pain, and collapsed beneath him, and he fell to the ground.
"Stunned, his dim-witted giant followers stared dumbly as the Vanjarls lobbed off the head of their invincible leader, and then rode them down, one by one. By evening there were no giants left alive, and word spread that it was not safe for any large-folk off of the mountains. Gradually even the mountain giants faded away, until they were heard from no more.
"After the battle, Aetonyx crawled out of the boot of the dead Jotun, and limped back home. He had passed the last fortnight warmer than he had ever been since returning to this world; he had had time to refine the stories he would tell the hatchlings; and he had saved his people from imminent death and ruin. If only there were some way to get this taste out of my mouth, he mused..."
Laph paused. She looked nervous, Ruli could tell, though why was anyone's guess. By the way Mother Gehyra and the other elders were conferring, she had far surpassed the other apprentices in her telling, and would easily be chosen as the acolyte, though to look at the worried expression on Laph's face you'd think she was about to be exiled.
"Many races rely on their strength in battle for victory," Laph continued at last. "And without the Vanjarls' swift horses and sharp blades, it would have been harder – but perhaps not impossible – to rout the giants so decisively that day. But we lizards know that it is far better to rely on our wits and our tenacity than on mere size or speed or strength in numbers; and sometimes it is sufficient to make yourself such a nuisance that your enemy is brought low because he can no longer stand your annoying presence."
A great cheer went up from the assembled lizards as Laph finished the tale. Ruli knew she was supposed to tell a second yarn -- something about Aetonyx freeing the volcanoes, she'd been rehearsing it for ages -- but it seemed unlikely she would get, or need, the chance.
"It was a dreadful time," came a deep rumbling next to him. Even after his own recent apprenticeship with Great-Grandfather had made him cross paths with the dragon several times a week, Ruli still started every time that giant red face stared down into his. Something about those beady black eyes... "Dagda loved it, of course, my poor silly brother, but for the rest of us it was no fun at all." Ruli would have sworn it looked like the dragon was shuddering from the cold, and wondered idly how old Cole really was. Or pretends to be.
"Well, I sup-suppose Laph doesn't have to worry about being a mere hierodule anymore, sir," he stammered nervously. I'm not like Laph, he thought. Grown-ups don't make me nervous. So why does Cole terrify me so much?
There was a deep chuckle. "Our Elaphe will make quite a name for herself," said Cole. "As will you." He nodded toward a line of half-grown lizards assembled off to the side, nervously clutching falchions that looked far sharper than they were probably used to. "I am taking these fine youngsters off on a bit of camping trip, and would like you to come with us," boomed the dragon. "Lugal tells me you're quite talented, and I know you are resourceful, young egg-thief." He chuckled. "We must leave soon if we are to make good time, you small ones all walk so slowly..."
"What, now?" said Ruli. "But... there's the feast... and the serpent dance... and Laph..." New acolytes were chosen only rarely, and whenever someone did pass the grueling tests – of which this was merely the final part – there were many days of celebrations. And this time Laph was going to be the center of attention. Ruli didn't want to miss a single one of the many mortified looks he imagined she'd be shooting him over the next few days.
As if on cue, Laph ran up to them, her strange new white robes flapping in the wind. "Ruli, Ruli, did you see me? Mother Gehyra says I have to sit at the grand banquet rock with all the high priests tonight, can you imagine? Oh hi, Cole," she exhaled quickly. She looked over toward the temple, where a large number of white robed lizards were gathering. "Oops, gotta run, later, Ruli," she said. "Keep him out of trouble, will ya, Cole?" And then she disappeared again.
"I believe Elaphe will be kept quite busy," said the dragon, as he nudged Ruli toward the soldiers-in-training. "Besides, we need an experienced elder lizard like you to keep the youth in line," said Cole. Ruli knew full well that he was still just a hatchling himself, in the eyes of every other adult in the clan. So why did Cole keep pushing him forward? Aetonyx only knew.
"C'mon, straighten up, he's looking right at us," Ash'embe whispered to his cohort. The young lizards stopped staring at the ground and the clouds and came to a rough approximation of attention. Real weapons were so heavy, compared to the wood and bone weapons they had had in the nursery, and most of the hatchlings would far rather have been sunning themselves or chasing flies than being the – what did Cole call it? Oh, yes – the honor guard. But Cole had said they had to be ready, they had to be as strong and brave as biters, so Ash'embe wouldn't let anyone complain about the weight. Cole had put him in charge. And Cole had told him he was very proud of how he was keeping the troops in line, which made Ash'embe feel warm and happy. Cole was the best grown-up lizard in the whole world, and now he was taking Ash'embe and the troops – his troops – on "training exercises".
The only problem was the winter-egg, Ruli. Winter hatchlings are usually a little odd, not to mention weaker than proper spring cohorts like Ash'embe's. But this one was just weird – always spent his time staring at things, like the time Ash'embe had been running in the woods with his cohort and caught him watching fish hatch in the river. And Ruli had still been there hours later, when Ash'embe had returned from his exercises. And now it looked like Cole was going to bring him with. Ash'embe felt crushed. He was supposed to be the oldest one, the one in charge. It wasn't fair.
Plus for some reason every time Ash'embe looked at Ruli a little sliver of terror worked its way down his spine. He couldn't think of why he should be afraid of the winter-egg – a little disdain seemed the most he should merit. But Ash'embe always had this vivid sensation, when he saw Ruli, of having his home and his world ripped from his back, the cold air rushing in around him to swallow him up. All that studying, he thought. Must've turned him all funny. Somehow he realized that wasn't it.
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=C%27tisTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of C'tis's exciting posts
Ermor
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=ErmorTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Ermor's exciting posts
Man
I read the report with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Oh yeah, I sort of did believe the map published by the Overseer News Network a few months ago. I did obliquely note that the undead are very near our lovely Forests of Avalon on that odd map they published. And I did know that the blight occurs wherever the undead appear. Or so I though I knew all this.
But reading a report from some random journalist who may not even be trustworthy is not quite the same thing as hearing a first hand report from one of my most loyal spies. I read the spy report again, hoping that it might have changed since I read it the first time a few moments ago.
But the words had not changed. The ONN report was unfortunately quite accurate.
For the Forrester spy Swiftulf saw it from hiding. His report says there is truly a terrible blight upon the lands to the northeast. He could not go into the Ermor capitol for fear of his life, but he did not have to. The blight is already spreading to all nearby lands. The beautiful green forests over there are already mostly dead, replaced by ugly petrified husks. Undead creatures are coming right out of the ground! Swiftulf saw it with his very own eyes.
Oh, what to do? Why did I have to become Queen? I wonder if I could just give up and quit. I never asked for this. All I truly want is to go home to my mother. It was all the fault of my dear Uncle Ralph. He trapped me into this. He did.
And speaking of which, Ralph always seem to know what is going on around here. While I sure did not want to have to talk to that insolent man, I suppose I needed to do so. I ordered he be located and summoned to my field tent once again.
When waiting for Ralph to appear, I had a terrible vision. In my mind, I saw undead hordes pouring over the mountain pass into our fair lands! I saw the blight spreading into my own territory. I saw death and decay everywhere. Was this a vision of the future? I sincerely hope not!
“Yes, my Queen? You called for me?”
I stared at my uncle, not recognizing him for a moment. But the vision cleared, the moment passed, and only Uncle Ralph remained in my eyes. “Yes, I did. Read this, dear uncle.” I handed over the report from Swiftulf.
Ralph read the report with a totally bland expression. He finished it and looked up at me. And I got the distinct impression that this was not the first time he had read the report. I made a mental note to myself to find out if my personal reports were being leaked to Ralph before they were given to me. If so, heads would roll!
Ralph was waiting patiently for me to speak. I did. “Well, uncle, is this news as bad as it seems?”
“Not necessarily.”
“And why not?”
“Maybe they intend to stay on their side of the mountain pass. We can send a messenger to them asking about their intentions.”
“Oh? How so? The undead are mindless. They will just blindly kill any messenger.”
“Only the soldiers are mindless. The leaders are quite intelligent, I assure you.”
“But the mindless army?”
“They obey the leaders without question. Pretty much all their leaders have an innate ability to totally control the mindless undead. Heck, if truth be told, that ability is not all that unique. In fact, some of our own mages can do this too.”
“Oh, we can? Whom are you referring to?”
“Well, you for one, my dear Selena.”
“Me????????”
“Yes, you. And some of our old crones can do this to. About one in four to be exact. I can’t, however.”
“Me???????”
“Um, yes, my queen, you too. Oh, not anywhere near like those undead leaders can do, but you do have a tiny ability to control a small number of the undead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, very sure.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Now you do. There is much you do not know, niece.”
And I knew he was now talking down to me as his young niece and no longer talking to me as his Queen of Man. Ralph the educator. Ralph the wise uncle. And Ralph the Prophet, or so I have been hearing rumors about.
It was time to return him to his place. “My dear Ralph” I said icily. “I hear that you are preaching everywhere. I even hear you have named yourself the Prophet of Man. Exactly what are you preaching about?”
“I am preaching your divinity.”
“I am no God, Ralph! Surely you know this!”
“Oh, you may not be a God yet, but you will be in time. If enough people believe in you, Selena, it can happen. Right now, you are just a Pretender like all the rest of those scum. But, if we are successful, someday you may rule this world as the sole deity.”
“This is possible?”
“Oh yes it is! In fact, my Queen, your reputation has traveled far and wide. Those 11 enemy soldiers you killed have already put you into the Hall of Fame. Everybody knows about you now. And they fear you too.”
I no longer could speak. I sat very still, turned inward deep into my private thoughts. In a distant part of my mind, I noted that Uncle Ralph, the self-proclaimed Prophet of Man, had silently exited my tent. But my thoughts were definitely elsewhere.
The little girl Selena was now both famous and feared?
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=ManTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Man's exciting posts
Marignon
Lead me, O LORD, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies;
make thy way straight before my face.
For there is no faithfulness in their mouth;
their inward part is very wickedness;
their throat is an open sepulchre;
they flatter with their tongue.
Destroy thou them, O God;
let them fall by their own counsels;
cast them out in the multitude of their transgressions;
for they have rebelled against thee.
But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice:
let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them:
let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee.
For thou, LORD, wilt bless the righteous;
with favor wilt thou compass him as with a shield.
Psalms 5:8-12
Muszinger
"By all that is holy! I should smite your where you stand!"
Father Muszinger grinned softly at that thought as the Archbishop of Marignon strode across the conclave room, spittle flying from his massive jowls.
"You have torn the Church apart with your mad support of this... Aftial. You have sown the soil of faith with the bitter seed of war, and watered the harvest with blood!"
Eventually, Muszinger knew, Marignon would tire. The summer heat still lingered in the House of Just Fires, and the old man was, well, indecently obese.
"The kingdom is falling apart! Condemned witches disappear from embarrassingly public places, and while you play solider in the Plains of Eternal Peril, the mighty Aftial, Goddess of... Courage," the sarcasm dripped from his lips, "remains cloistered in the library playing with the minds of schoolboys and sucking at the rotten teat of ancient-- nay, heretical-- knowledge!"
With the last, Marignon pounded on Muszinger's desk with his diadem, then, overcome by exertion, started coughing uncontrollably.
The Archbishop of Wic strode into the center of the chamber. "Friends!"
A hush fell, as this perfect specimen of a man lifted his hands unto heaven.
"Friends. Let us not quarrel. It is true that the lords refused to accept the authority of Aftial, and that most have risen in open revolt, but so much the better. The chance lies before us know to clear the kingdom of this black bile, and bring all power directly under the control of the Church. Father Muszinger's campaign to do this has been quick and decisive. I returned to my home province for the first time in several years, and found the cathedral there in shocking disrepair, and the peasants cowering from me-- from me, a true servant of the LORD."
"Vampire..." muttered someone from behind Muszinger, but he pretended not to hear.
"There is some truth in what Wic says," said the Archbishop of Avoca from where he stood by the fire, despite the heat of the day. "Woledar was a crook who cheated the church out of its rightful tithe. The people will be much better off with their taxes going directly to the church through me."
"And, you, Amiridon?" Wic turned toward the shortest of the archbishops.
"Ach, 'tis true" he murmured. "Me people be better off wid out the yoke of tyranny."
"But what of the witch?" asked the Archbishop of Spire. "Old Ratty let her get away. He's not doing his job properly."
If Muszinger had one regret in life, it was not killing everyone who knew his nickname from school. The indignity of being called back here to answer these ridiculous charges was grating enough. Things were so much simpler out in the field where a good smite took care of everything.
Muszinger rose. He knew he lacked the stage presence of Wic, but... "By the grace of God, I have been charged with a sacred quest. Aftial guards every hair on my head. No man may hinder me." He puled out his dagger and spun it gently on the desk, then sat again and leaned back. "I challenge any man to face me in combat. I will be unarmed, but the LORD will protect me, and the false accuser's soul will never enter the Kingdom."
The blue robes of the Archbishop of Elkland parted with inhuman quickness, and a wicked looking man darted forth with dagger and short sword. Muszinger's heart froze for a second. He'd expected an attack by one of the elderly archbishops, not a fully trained assassin. What if Aftial's protection...?
A searing pain in his arm, and then a flash of light and a thunderclap. The assassin's bloody dagger clattered down with his sword onto the empty stone. Only the faint smell of brimestone and a little wisp of smoke remained.
Muszinger rose. "May the LORD bless and protect you all, as he has blessed me. I return now to the front-lines of the war against death. The Archbishop of Elkland is hereby excommunicated for allowing this assassin to infiltrate the conclave."
And with that he strode from the room, dizzy lights before his eyes. The dagger had been poisoned were his last thoughts as he pushed into the crowd of inquisitors who swirled their black cloaks around him and prevented the Archbishops from seeing his collapse.
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=MarignonTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Marignon's exciting posts
Pangaea
"And so we charged against their ranks. They didn't seem much of a threat: a handful of poorly equipped warriors, hardly more than that. A memorable gallop it was: we were bellowing and running faster and faster, spear in hand, together with our kin. A wonderful day for a fight it was, but it was not to be.
They were almost within range when we heard other soldiers approaching from the rear. They were no match for us, of course, but they swarmed us, and we were soon surrounded. We have no room to move, in the midst of those barbarians, and their wicked blades took us down swiftly: Parleanos was the first to fall, and then it was Agrelois, and then... We claimed the lives of many of our foes, but in the end, we fell, each and every one of us.
Still, me and the Xhatalus youngster managed to break away from the brawl, though he was unable to run away, with the wounds he took in his legs. They soon caught up with them and slaughtered him, as if he was just a horse, a beast to hunt down and eat. They tried to take me too, but weren't fast enough, and I guess they couldn't be bothered to chase me. I did manage to save the standard of the Lilac, but besides that... “ Aliernos shrugged.
Around them, rain was dribbling from the leaves, cicadas were singing, and a guard was patrolling to the beat of his hooves. They were standing at the top of a tower, in that fortress of the days of yore. Their ancestors had surely needed such walls to protect them, in those days long gone; now, the crumbling fortress made for a pretty sight.
Mysleani sighed; how many deaths would come before it was all over? “I see.” She paused. “Well, you did what you had to, and for that I thank you."Empty words, and she knew it. “Who were those fighters you met? That was a little too close to home...”
“They had no livery or standard of any sort, so I wouldn't know who they were working for. They were poorly equipped though: maybe they were bandits looking for plunder. Something has been worrying me since the battle: how did they know we were coming? 'Twas an ambush, not a chance encounter.”
“To that I can provide an answer”, the Dryad replied. “An outcast has been roaming around camp of late, the feral Taurotyrannos. You were too young in his days, when he was expelled from the woods. A wildling he was, and he killed his father as soon as he was given the chance. Nobody knows why he came back, but it cannot bode well: Pangaea has no need for such crazed beings indulging in the Cult. Best to forget all about them.
I saw him talking with the Scent when she was last there, and overheard his harsh voice saying something like: 'Foreign humans nearby... almost found the Grove... moving quickly through the countryside'. The Scent disagreed it seems, as the Bull left angrily, a scowl twisting his hideous features. I'm not surprised to hear there is trouble when such creatures are loose.”
Aliernos nodded, and cleared his throat. “He is right in one aspect: those humans are growing golder and bolder with each falling leaf. Almost on the outskirts of our woods they are now, and I reckon it won't be long before they start cutting down the trees of our land. Fools, the whole lot of them.
And yet they are doing well – too well. I am in no position to give you orders, but you should contact them, before they err and slay our folk; only Her grace has prevented that from happening already. I will be riding again myself, before our foes manage to disappear. Newly recruited Centaurs will accompany me... and the Satyrs.”
Mysleani and the Centaur left their tower and made their way to the camp. Their companionable silence was only disturbed by the sounds of revelers, possibly Satyrs, enjoying their last free night. The camp itself was a collection of tents circling a bonfire, with a vast open place for the Centaurs. When they reached their destination, Aliernos gave the Dryad his last warning: “Beware of the Changed Ones: something is... awry with them.”
She gave a faint smile, and shew him the thin layer of glittering scales on her hands.
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=PangaeaTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Pangaea's exciting posts
Pythium
Cibragol wove the stars. He still struggled to change the larger patterns, but in Pythium and the lands around, the twine of fate was easily shaped. And everywhere his Voice, Brutus, moved, his influence spread. But even as influence flowed outward there were... obstructions. To the south in Grey Murks, in mountains west of Imictan, and the plains beyond the Mountains of Madness, the twine of fate abruptly changed in color shifted from his grasp. Obviously, other weavers had set to work as well. But the universe could not afford to be pulled in half a dozen directions- if the other weavers could not be reasoned with to abandon their pursuit, force might be required....
Telicus had to admit, the fountain knew how to get things done. Just a few months after word had been sent far and wide by the Oracles zealous followers about the empire's call for soldiers, the streets of Pythium were crowded with foreign mercenaries. At first Telicus had been worried about riots, unrest, even rebellion caused by the foreign troops. As it turned out, mercenaries were a superstitions lot and tended to follow the Oracles orders (oh, it called them prophecies, but Telicus could see them for what they were). But, despite his unease, he could not deny it was reinvigorating the Empire. Brutus marched to victory after miraculous victory, and the imperial treasury was fuller than in generations.
So, for now, Telicus contented himself with administering the Empire's rapidly expanding holdings, and waited for the Oracle's next move.
The Atlantian mercenaries marched on through the sweltering heat. Brutus could not help but admire the strange beings, when he knew that the dust and heat must be far harder on them then his human troops, they marched on without a word of complaint, never calling for a rest. The legions, most of which had never been farther than a few miles from the city, were instead lagging behind, the Oracle's prophecies of wealth and glory seeming to evaporate under the intense sun.
Brutus picked up pace to catch up with Y'gologna, the Atlantian captain. Before he reached him, Brutus heard the dull clang of bone against metal coming from the the front ranks. Brutus recognized the colors of the Prince of Vocan, the current ruler in this region's long history of short reining monarchs, on the enemy troops. Each swing of an Atlantian coral glaive brought down one of them, but the mercenaries were quickly becoming surrounded. Brutus ordered the legion out of marching column and brought them into javelin range. As Y'gologna finally reached the front lines, his sword of sharpness flashed with unnatural speed through the Vocan light infantry. At that moment, the enemy line broke. The fleeing prince of Vocan and his officers were quickly overtaken by long Atlantian legs. Before the ink was dry on the treaty of incorporation into the Empire, the legion was again marching for the Empire's newly redrawn border.
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=PythiumTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Pythium's exciting posts
T'ien Ch'i
Late Summer in the Year of Good Fortune’s Coming.
The sun burns proudly from his high celestial perch.
The wise oak finds profit in the long day’s boastful radiance.
Ah! The Great City is a welcome sight after so many years traveling among the fields and villages of the countryside. So many sights. So many smells. So much to eat! My favorite ginger noodles can be found in a shop run by my own cousin, Nang Kookwa. They are a model of culinary balance. Surely, even Heaven orders out from Nang’s on summer nights like these!
My Lord, Zhaung Li Lou, and I entered the City later than expected. The moon was high and the City was quiet. The Goddess was nowhere to be found, and there were no traces of the other warlords. My Lord rushed to present himself at the House of His Majesty, the Highest Lord of T’ien Ch’i, but even His Majesty was gone. We inquired with the Chamberlain and were informed that His Majesty, the warlords, and the entire T’ien Ch’i army had followed the Goddess into the neighboring province to begin the glorious campaign of T’ien Ch’i’s dominance. Zhaung Li Lou was enraged. How could he be left behind! His father’s recklessness was to blame.
But strange events took place is the neighboring province. Our independent neighbors were expecting us, and something unnatural guided their swords. The battle was bloody on both sides, but in the end the Goddess was struck down and our finest were left fleeing back to our land. My Lord and I met our defeated army at the City’s gate, and to our surprise neither His Majesty nor any of the greatest warlords survived the battle. They were all slain. As it turned out, my young Lord was one of eldest warlords left, and his band country archers composed the majority of what was left of the armies of T’ien Ch’i.
It should not surprise you, but my Lord was devastated. How could Heaven permit such tragedy to befall us? The whole City was driven to madness.
My Lord decided that we would return to our village. That night, we camped near the forest outside the City. The moon was full, and a gentle breeze carried the flagrance of summer flowers. Zhaung Li Lou took a walk among the trees, and there he happened to spot a passing fox.
“How lucky you are, fox, to wander the woods without worries!”
“Yes, noble Lord. The moon is bright, and the air is sweet.”
“If only I could enjoy such things, but I fear that great tragedies have struck my people. All is lost for us.”
“Mmmmm... but noble Lord, the full moon’s brightness discloses my hiding places, and the breeze’s perfume masks my enemy’s scent. I know not what is favorable or disagreeable.”
My Lord looked at the fox with confusion.
“Noble Lord, I know the reasons for your distress. You should not abandon your Great City. Return and seek out the ministers within the Temple of the Ancestors. They know secrets, and you would be wise to profit from them.”
With that, the fox dashed off through the trees.
The next morning, my Lord followed the advice of the fox. He returned to the Great City and entered the Temple of the Ancestors. There he saw the ministers of the Temple in their dark purple-grey robes. After they finished their morning rituals and prayers, the head minister met with my Lord and informed him that there was great anger among the ancestors. They wished to strike back at the enemies who insulted T’ien Ch’i’s honor. As in the time of the last great dynasty, the Ancestors would rise and defend the Great City in its time of despair.
For the next three weeks, the ministers of the temple cast the most ancient of their rituals. They burned their most sacred incense and chanted in the ancient tongues. On the twenty-second day as the sun was setting, a grey mist seeped out of the temple and through the streets, and by midnight the city was full of our ancestral spirits.
On the twenty-third day, my Lord, Zhaung Li Lou, lead his archers and the spirit army into the neighboring lands to regain the Honor of T’ien Ch’i!
May Heaven bless my master! May he find his way through the Way.
Humbly and truthfully,
X’ing Gao, Honored Scribe of Lord Zhaung Li Lou
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=T%27ien_Ch%27iTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of T'ien Ch'i's exciting posts
Ulm
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=UlmTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Ulm's exciting posts
Vanheim
In which Belletennares gains something he did not seek, Pherios is found by something he was seeking, and Vethru just snoops.
Vethru
It's a breezy summer day. I'm pacing in the library when Quellian Ji flies in. He drops a scroll on the table, lands, clears his throat, and extends a wing. " 'All I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying/And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying,' " he recites.
I laugh. "So now you're a mind reader?"
"Tk-k-k. Five libraries in the castle, and you hole up in the smallest one? Why you think that is?"
"It's quiet," I say.
Ji squawks. "Look out the window! It's the only library with a view of the water."
"Land of sailors ..." I say. "Some fishing boats on an inland lake. Racing shells. A few traders."
"But it's still in 'em," he says. "I've been down by the docks. They've all got salt water in their veins. They're the real deal."
"Maybe. It's not the same."
"Sorry, boss," Ji says. "But it's not forever. We'll be out of here someday, right? This, too, shall pass, and all that?"
I nod. This will pass. I'll pass it by. In a hundred years, or a thousand, I may not remember Vanheim and its land-locked sailors. Life is motion; existence is change. It takes astonishingly little time before everything you love fades into indistinct, blurry memories, and you're left with an empty soul, a feeling you can't believe will also fade, but it does--you stumble into unexpected beauty or kindness, and your heart thaws and starts to beat again. And it happens over and over and over.
On the other hand, I don't live, and my heart doesn't beat, so why should you listen to me?
I open the scroll. It's written in an elegant, feminine hand. The neat lines trail down and to the right. It reads:
- Project Excelsior is progressing. I hope to have the results you want by the end of the year. On the other matter, I can give you one squad per month, but I'm not sure they're worth the resources. It will take much longer before we can do better. Send me more dwarves!
- Come visit the tower, my friend. There are many fascinating mysteries we can discuss.
- Yours in service, T.
"She gives me the creeps," says Ji.
"Why? It's no different than what I did. A little messier. What she did took cojones. I like that."
"Frankly, boss, sometimes you give me the creeps, too."
"Do you scare yourself when you pass a mirror? Because you've walked that path, too, my friend."
Ji shivers. "Never again."
"Not even to save your life?"
"Please don't ask me that." Ji is still uncomfortable with the liberties I take with the "natural order" of things. All in good cause, of course,
We watch tiny figures drifting over the hills of the city. "This place is getting to me," he says. "I like it better when we're the only weird, mythological things wandering around."
"Not this time," I say. "It won't be easy, with other powers active. We'll be fighting for everything. And if they figure out what I'm after..."
"Gah. Creepy. And they take it all for granted! Belletennares leads the army like he was born to be the anointed one of a god," Ji says. "I hate that. It took me forever to get used to it."
"He's perfect," I reply. I watch the Valkyries in the sky. Graceful creatures, and deadly. And all of them quite beautiful. I wonder if I know the death god who gave them their powers. I'd like to buy him lunch. "And what about young Pherios? We've never been anticipated so specifically. He even managed to pull you into his dream."
"Like a puppet! I have no idea where those words came from. Or what they mean."
"Watch him. Talk to him, when you find the right moment. We need him. He's got great potential."
"OK, boss. Whatever you say."
"House Alteion will win us this war," I say. "They are extraordinary."
Ji says, "Blech. They're extraordinary, I'm extraordinary, you're extraordinary. We've got a real shortage of ordinary around here."
"And round me up some Valkyries. I have an idea."
Pherios
"Quack, quack. Quack?"
I stared at the ducks swimming in Alteion's fountain. One of them stared back for a moment, then got bored and left. Smart duck.
The ducks weren't telling me anything. As far as I could tell, they were just swimming around in circles, and it didn't mean anything. None of the scholars on Triastellus could read the parchments Vethru gave me to show around. And no one could tell me anything about a Valkyrie who sketched the skies from the hill. I looked up at great-grandfather's statue and despaired.
"Hey, Pherios!" I turned around in time to be swept up in Petema's embrace. "Ah, little cousin," she said. She called us all cousins, even though she was the eldest of the family now. Although she wore a few wrinkles and grey hairs, she still chose to ride with the army rather than sit on the Konella Koreia. "How are you? What are you doing on Triastellus?"
"Everything and nothing." I looked up at Alteion again. "Not enough."
She laughed. "He's not grading you." People in the busy square were starting to watch us. I wasn't used to it, people pointing at me and whispering. I can't even figure out how they know who I am, or why they care. Petema noticed, took my arm, and said, "Let's go get a drink."
Once in a comfortable tavern a couple blocks away from Alteion's tomb, I showed her the papers, a collection of a dozen pages in a dozen alien alphabets. They all were recent copies, of what, I don't know. The scribe who gave them to me claimed the originals had been written by Vethru himself.
"This one doesn't even look like writing," Petema said. "What are all those lines for? They're not pretty enough to be art. Sorry," she said, handing them back to me. "I don't recognize the writing. Your father might know. Too bad, the real linguist in the family was Tilneia. Poor kid. Vethru is really interested in antiquities, isn't he? I've seen scholars running all over the hill, even a few dwarves."
"Yes. Every time I talk to him, he's in one of the libraries, reading old books, or talking to the old Jarls on the council."
"Have you found anyone who could read them?"
"Not yet. Just one guy who said he saw something like it in Cimri once."
"And what about your girlfriend? Any luck finding her?"
"What?" I said. "I mean, how...?"
"Old Epimerius told me. He's the keeper of the Meila Galleria. He told me you were asking about a Valkyrie after you showed him these papers. What? What's wrong?"
"I'm not supposed...I mean, I did see her--thought I saw her, thought she was, or, might be in danger...but I guess that wasn't what I was thinking of when I went looking for her. I shouldn't have been wasting my time on my own...um...pursuits?"
She smiled and touched my arm. "It's OK. Don't worry, cousin. There's time for everything. Listen. You know there's going to be tough times ahead. Better than me."
"A few years," I said. "Maybe more. Probably."
"A few years--it doesn't sound like much. You think you can focus on the war and leave all the rest for later. Put it all out of your mind and do your duty, and nothing else. But those five years, you've got to live them. There are a lot of moments to fill. You can't spend all your time fighting or studying or planning. You'll go nuts. Do you want to end up as serious as your dad? Besides, when do you think Alteion met Philia?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. He started out like you, you know? Mom always described him as a skinny kid running around the hill with the future in his eyes. He met Mom, predicted the Utreian war, and won it with time to spare."
"That's hard to live up to," I said.
"Wrong lesson," she said. "Don't live up to him--live up yourself. I see changes, too. I think a new era is beginning. Alteion had his. It's going to be up to you and me what the next one will be like. Not Alteion."
"So," Petema continued, "Be strong, but be yourself. And remember your family; we'll look out for you."
"Thanks," I said.
"And you look out for us!" She said this very seriously, but her face immediately became carefree again. "I've got to go--good luck finding your Valkyrie, and write to your mother!"
With new optimism, I visited another handful of antiquarians, but my hopes quickly waned. I had no luck in my searches, either of them. I didn't think I'd ever succeed.
Some seer I am. She was waiting in my little turret when I arrived back at the castle.
Belletennares
They call me a hero. They call me prophet, the chosen one of god. They tell me, yes, you were right all along. The troubles started, just as you described. You have shown foresight and wisdom, and for that, we place in your command the defense of our nation. They laud my every decision, follow my orders without question. I serve Vanheim as few are ever called to do.
I find no comfort in any of it. I sought responsibilities, not honors. I have foreseen this cusp of history, prepared for it, and led my people to meet it, but I feel as much dread as any of us when I speak the words: the war has begun.
Our little skirmishes with neighboring provinces seeking to evade responsibilities of ancient, and they say forgotten and irrelevant, treaties, are no more than a wisp of smoke to the coming firestorm. Pherios predicted it, and now we have begun to receive reports, travellers' tales, really, of the disintegration of peace across the land.
To the west, Man has dared to take Stone Grave Mountain. The Konella Koreia believes Man's new leader, Selena the Great Enchantress, to be rational, so diplomats have been sent to their land to warn her of the dangers of further encroachment. I hope they are correct, but I fear that someday we will need to remind Man that, though the reputation of their vaunted wardens and foresters and their clever woodcraft is not undeserved, Vanir and Valkyries, too, may pass without being detected by mortal eyes.
There is plague to the north, but that is no surprise from the dead lands. Some days I look around the stony hills of our provinces, not half so green as I remember from my youth, and wonder if it has not already touched us.
In the east, a great red dragon has been sighted flying over the Black Gorge. It is a sign that the lizards rise again. Once we were allies, of a kind--I remember they made a small contribution in the wars with the giants. Some part of me hopes we will again find the lizards to be friendly. I mentioned this to Vethru (I am back in Vanheim for a short time), and he, to my surprise, for I can rarely determine the quarter of his thoughts, agreed. Something about them fascinates him.
Elsewhere, there is little news. The Pythian empire grows again. Their legions march, but not toward us. To the south, Tenecheia (or however their name is rendered; I cannot write their native script) is wracked, they say, by some internal catastrophe, but I can pay little credence to the single tale we've heard from that region.
I must put these reports from my mind. My brother can exercise his intellect upton the contemplation of distant lands, and his son may divine the future. I work in the here and now. Tomorrow I ride for Namor in another wasteful demonstration of the sanctity of treaties forged with Vanheim. Some of the younger men who have just joined us think of this as an opportunity for honor and glory. Tomorrow they may be as wary of glory as I, and learn that honor cannot be hunted.
Edit this yarn (http://yarnspinners.improbable.org/index.php?title=VanheimTurn6&action=edit) •
See all of Vanheim's exciting posts
<< Previous Turn | Next Turn>>
