Inhalt

Prologue

THE DIRIGIBLES OF TULN

BY J M BARNES

PROLOGUE

The skies of the wild kingdom of Anar Fasa were always cloudy and rain fell almost daily. The deep, dark jungles that covered it were lush and full of endless varieties of life. The human beings that called the land home were hardened survivors who toiled constantly and often fought amongst themselves for the best hunting territories and the contents of their hidden mines. In times of war they banned together to face any outsiders utilizing their superior cunning and exotic resources. One of those resources was the flying reptile called a ferrodactyl.

Fierce predators in the wild the creatures had been tamed after millennia of practice by the just as fierce tribesmen of Anar Fasa. Patrolling the skies the watchers over the canopies ensured no invaders would ever cross their borders unmarked. For hundreds of years just seeing the giant orange beasts carrying an entire hunting cadre was enough to quell any thoughts their neighbors might have of invasion.

One of the more highly regarded patrol leaders, Albier Muerton, was known to have personally flown the length and breadth of their jungle nation over a hundred times. Tattoos and self-inflicted scars told a complex tale of tribe and ancestry across his deep red skin and his long black hair was bound in ceremonial hunter’s braids. Lean but hard with solid muscle he was the toughest and most successful hunter among his tribe. He had seen many strange things during his twenty years of service but there had never been anything he couldn’t deal with.

That was about to change.

Mounted behind him on his green and orange scaled ferrodactyl was the hunting party of his lodge. Sitting directly behind him was the brother of his wife and the remaining six men were either cousins or nephews of both. Much like their leader they wore the tale of their tribes on their skin though none were quite as long or complex as his. All were seasoned hunters and had fought other men in the defense of their kingdom in the past. They were all still astonished by the invading force they witnessed crossing their borders from the east.

"They are like clouds, and there are so many of them!" Albier heard his brother-in-law mutter.

The great elliptical objects flew down from above the clouds. Clearly some machine of man’s design they were large enough to carry entire contingents of hunters in their bellies. Below the giant egg shaped crafts was supported a giant metal box. From the rear the boxes gave off a smoky exhaust and there was an unmistakable grumble coming from whatever was driving them forward. Fins like those of a shark protruded from the sides along with countless ropes and tethers that seemed to enshroud the craft in a confusing web. At the bottom of the boxes were large metal tubes that were fixed pointing downwards and were stained with soot. Flying from each corner of their compartment boxes a waving banner was displayed. On a white field there was sewn a crimson depiction of one of the flying vessels. As one flight of five air ships descended another flight followed and more after that. It continued until there was a long line of the ships and it was Albier’s nephew who noted their course.

"They are heading for Anar Fallan!" Tarbien called out through the wind.

The ships moved slowly compared to the wings of an eagle but the ferrodactyl was no bird of prey. It was a gliding beast that needed the force of the wind behind it to propel it onward. Like children the hunting party had watched as this curious invasion force sped towards the canopy city of Anar Fallan. They would not arrive in time to warn them. Albier realized too late that he had failed.

Determined to take some toll from this strange new foe he kicked his mount into action and it responded by diving toward the trees below. Gathering speed as it fell it then pulled upward and utilized that momentum to catch up to the rearmost airship formation. With giant beak and claws outstretched the ferrodactyl fell upon a bloated air ship. Spears and arrows took flight but only barely pierced the pliable, unknown material that seemingly held only forced air beneath its rippling surface.

Beak and claw were not so easily rebuked. A loud whistling noise assaulted the hunter’s senses as a great rush of unnatural smelling gas blew out of the ship’s balloon. In delivering the blow the great beast lost its momentum and with all its weight and that of its passengers a giant fluttering rip was torn into the side of the immense balloon. With a shriek the ferrodactyl self-preservation instinct kicked in and it tore itself forcefully away from the now plunging wreck.

As they dove past and even dangerously under the plummeting ship Albier could swear he heard men screaming but with the wind howling in his ears he could not be sure. When his mount finally righted itself and he convinced his hunters to stop celebrating their tiny victory the horrible truth of the uselessness of their attack was clear.

Ahead of them the mighty formation of air ships passed over Anar Fallan in groups of five. Each wave in turn let loose a mighty blast of liquid fire from the fixed tube beneath the metal box that hung beneath the balloon. With a whoosh of exhalation they unleashed fury upon the unsuspecting canopy city. The affect was instantaneous and the entire jungle in and around the city was quickly engulfed in an unnatural inferno. The ferrodactyl became uncontrollable as it raced toward the great tree in which it knew its fledglings were hiding. Albier and his men screamed at the sight below them, helpless to even warn their loved ones and the entire city that was theirs to protect. Their only consolation was the fact that the end came so quickly. Suffering would have been short for anyone caught in that conflagration.

They were now the last survivors of Anar Fallan and they had a duty to their kingdom. Albier kicked and punched the great ferrodactyl until it relented its plaintive pursuit and steered it toward the nearest neighboring settlement. He hoped and prayed that his superiors might have some defense against this terrible enemy. Regretting his weakness he spat towards the ground and remembered the words of the greatest of the hunters before him.

"The land, the sky and the river is our god, both unthinking and cruel. For what divinity would allow such hardship to fall upon their own creations as what has been endured by our people throughout the ages? There are no gods, but if we ever find one, make it pay!"

CHAPTER ONE

BEWARE THE BLACK

Yrnol’s father was a loud, crude and often abusive man. Thick and hairy he more resembled a grizzled bear than a man, and his dour personality only contributed to this appearance. His shaggy beard and unkempt head of hair hid most of his features but there was no denying he was among the tallest and strongest of the men in town. He also happened to be the town’s captain of the guard. His snoring was thunderous even outside his bedroom door where his eldest son crept silently past on his way to the common room. There the captain’s second in command slept on a straw layered cot, where he’d been staying since his wife had thrown him out of the house a week ago.

Yrnol had been planning his escape for much longer than that and wasn’t about to allow this minor issue to impede his well laid plans. Besides, both men had been drinking and there wasn’t anything likely to wake them before well after dawn. The smell of stale mead wafted toward him and he held his breath as he made it to the front door. He was only fourteen winters old and he was small in comparison to the rest of the local children. He and his brothers had a darker complexion also and they were leaner than their peers. Unlike him though his younger brothers did not look like their father. They were their mother’s sons, a fact their father hadn’t missed and didn’t seem overly fond of.

One last time he looked toward the closed door where both his younger brothers slept and shrugged the regret from his mind. They would have to get away like he had once they were old enough or perhaps when he’d established himself he would come back for them. As he carefully turned the latch and pushed open the heavy door he swore he would come back one day, and may the dead gods help his father if he tried to stop him from taking his brothers.

Two years ago Yrnol’s father, Yrnol the black, had accidentally killed his wife and left his three sons without a mother. He had been on another drunken binge and she’d had enough of his verbal abuse. For speaking up she received a beating that left her broken and barely breathing on the hard packed earthen floor. By the next dawn she was dead. His being captain had saved him from prosecution then but it hadn’t saved him from the derision of the townsfolk. To the last, the kindly people of Roarersfjord had condemned his actions and swore off any contact with him unless it was necessary.

Yrnol junior had been paying the price for his father’s unpunished crime ever since and no one had despised his father more than he. It was another cruelty the dead gods had decided to plague him with. The other most prominent cruelty was his uncanny resemblance to his father.

Everywhere he went people second glanced him oddly and then with their hands they would make the sign of their god, usually Balder, to ward off the evil he was surely spawned from. Although his beautiful mother had been beloved by all, thanks to his heartless father he might as well have been spawned from trolls. There wasn’t a girl that would look his way and the other boys weren’t allowed to play with him. Fourteen winters old and he hadn’t a friend to speak of. Only his little brothers, Syam and Pulnor, would talk to him and even they had taken on the derisive tone their father had habitually directed his way. No, it was long past time for him to go. He would find another place to live, one far from Roarersfjord, where the folk wouldn’t know his father and the deeds that marked him.

Yrnol crept out of the house, closed the door behind him, and literally ran into the darkness. He knew the town well enough to get around without light and he would have to. Even the stars were gone and the moon was nowhere to be seen as a heavy fog prepared to fall upon the sleeping town by morning. He hadn’t planned on the fog but it was a good sign as far as he was concerned. If, and that was a big if, anyone tried looking for him they would be delayed by the fog. He would be well away from home by the time anyone realized he was gone. Beyond the fences and buildings the rocky mountain slopes were covered with trees and hardy shrubs. They concealed him perfectly as he made his way through the night. There were no sounds of wildlife as the winter was still on and they hadn’t begun to return from their migrations.

Hours later the sun arose and the fog concealed everything beyond arms reach. Yrnol stumbled forward through the cold, damp fir wood forest. Both his shins were scratched and bleeding but his already calloused hands and feet were weathering the blind run quite well. He’d had no boots to wear nor many clothes except for the ragged, dirt stained trousers and wool shirt that he wore. From an early age he had worked the small fields and cared for domesticated animals. Though he had sought ways to escape the toil in the past he now thanked his mother’s diligence. She had always promised him his hard work would pay off one day and she was right. She had been right about everything.

Yrnol stumbled over a fallen log then so he stopped and wiped the tears that were blurring his vision from his face. He missed his mother and his brothers, but he found no regret in mind for his father. There was little to miss besides the abuse. Shaking his head to clear the doubts he ploughed forward once more. Solemnly resigned he would not be returning to Roarersfjord until he was a man.

The sound of the nearby sea and the birds that swooped and dove above it soothed his conflicted thoughts and as he walked he daydreamed about being a sailor and seeing the world. Ever since he was a small child his mother had regaled him with the tale of her long ocean journey from her homeland in the south to the northern homeland of his father. She had told him about every port city and seaside village they’d stopped at and recited for him with quavering voice every battle or deadly storm his father had protected her from on the way. By the end of that journey she had come to love the man her own father had given her to in return for services rendered. She had learned to ignore his perpetual scowl and gruff manner and see into his heart. Yrnol punched a tree and absorbed the pain as he remembered how she tried to convince him time and again that his father was a good man. Idly he wondered if she’d still thought so as she lay upon her death bed after that last beating.

He almost didn’t hear the sounds of voices cutting through the fog as he was lost in recollection but at the last moment he stopped and crouched behind a nearby fallen tree. He was near the water and could hear it lapping the stone covered shore. The voices were of several men, some shouting orders while others seemed lost in idle banter. The sound of a blacksmith hammering upon his anvil started up and he could hear the plaintive bleating of goats.

There were no settlements nearby Roarersfjord. It was a good walk away from the sea and halfway up a mountainside but needed little in the way of trade in order to survive. There should be no reason for anyone to be here unless they were some of the rare visitors to the town, but those only came when the cold had passed and that wasn’t due to occur for some time.

Curiosity soon overwhelmed his fear and Yrnol crept carefully toward the edge of what was a large encampment. Trees had been cleared away and the tall mast of a dragonship loomed over the whole area from just beyond shore. A makeshift pen had been erected to keep the many goats. The men moving about were collecting firewood and watching over the grazing goats with spears and axes in hand. They were tall, hairy and dirty, definitely his father’s breed.

Yrnol knew what sort of cruelty he would be met with should he be discovered. Carefully he retraced his steps and moved back out of sight. He was preparing to skirt around the settlement when he had to duck back out of sight again. Pounding hooves were approaching and a loud ringing seemed to herald the newcomers. The men of the encampment began to race around, he could hear them but not see them for he was too far out of range and the fog had not even begun to thin.

When the horses stopped he could hear a voice call out and shivers ran down his back. "Kulivarn! Come out and speak to me, sailor! Or are you afraid to face Yrnol the black?" It was his father. The young lad began to shiver in terror. Unwilling to move for fear of being discovered he shrank against the thick dead tree’s roots and made not a sound.

Another voice, just as gruff and threatening, replied. "I fear no man, Yrnol. Be he black, blue or fiery red! What is it you want? The time of the culling isn’t for another week."

"That it is, but my lads and I feared you may have forgotten. My own son is missing and I wondered if Kulivarn the true had forgotten our deal." The elder Yrnol replied.

"Bah! I haven’t forgotten our bargain. You and yours are welcome to search my camp and my ship if you like. I haven’t seen your son." Kulivarn replied with a snort.

Another, higher pitched, nasally voice spoke up then. "Yrnol the black has lost his son? What irony, don’t you think?"

"You’d do well to still your tongue, snake, before I still it for you!" Yrnol the black replied with clear menace.

"Please, Yrnol. You know full well it is my lord’s gold that is funding your annual culling. If I were to be harmed in any way you would be forced to answer to the headsman’s axe." The snake replied, seemingly unperturbed by the threat.

Young Yrnol started in his hiding spot as he heard the ringing of a blade being drawn. Thus had been father’s response to many an argument in the past. As he recalled, somehow father always won those arguments.

"Now, Yrnol, you know a deal has been struck and unless you want to bring an army of thousands to your remote little town you will put that blade away and get on with that search for your missing son. I have already told you the lad isn’t here." Kulivarn said forcefully. There was an uneasy moment of silence where young Yrnol expected to hear his father vault into battle heedless of the consequences, but miraculously that did not occur. Instead he heard his father shout something to his steed and he and his men began to move away from the camp.

Tears of relief and confusion alike poured from his eyes then. He contemplated the word he heard the men speak, culling, and swore at himself for his lack of learning. He thought the word might be the same he’d heard the town elders use when they spoke of depleting the large wolf population near their town but that was years ago and he couldn’t be sure. His answers came to him through the unseen men beyond the fog as they conversed.

"That fool is a lout. No wonder my cousin faked her death to escape him." The man his father had referred to as a snake said.

"Yes, and it is no wonder she demanded we take his sons during the culling. They are of royal southern blood and deserve much better than what that cold hearted bastard can provide." Kulivarn added.

"Indeed, but what shall we tell her when we cannot find her eldest and dearest?" The snake asked.

Yrnol could not believe his ears. They were by all the gods, it seemed, talking about him. But who was this southern woman who was of royal blood? They could not be speaking of his mother, could they? She was dead! He had not seen her body himself, though he had seen his father’s handiwork after beating her near to death. Could it be true? Had she lived and somehow escaped to her former homeland? If so why hadn’t she taken him with her? From what he was hearing now though it seemed these men had indeed been sent for him and his brothers. They were going to cull the town with his evil father’s aid and then steal his sons away from him as well.

The word was a crude one but he now knew what it meant. At least what it meant to the people who still lived in the town. For the past six years there had been vast disappearances of townsfolk. Entire families were gone overnight while their homes lay wide open with their belongings left behind. The guards would claim they tried to stop them but people were allowed to leave when they wanted, the King of their land was no tyrant. None of those particular people were ever seen or heard from again. He couldn’t know if those people had been slain or enslaved but now he guessed they might yet live as servants in the same southern realm that birthed his mother. In her many stories she’d often mentioned the many maid’s and groundskeeper’s children she spent her childhood playing beside and learning about the outside world from. It just so happened as he recalled it, that those very same servants were not native to her homeland. To a one they’d been brought back from some far off place to serve the royal families of the nation of Iwherdeen.

Yrnol was startled from his thoughts by the barking commands of Kulivarn. "Use your magic then. Find Yrnol’s son before he does and our task will be that much simpler. We’ll stow him aboard the ship until we leave for Iwherdeen."

Magic? His mother had boasted that many of the world’s mightiest mages had learned their craft at the foot of Iwherdeen masters. He had thought them but fanciful tales, amusing ones to be sure but tales nonetheless.

A cold chill crept into his belly and his mouth went instantly dry. If they found him now his father might hear of it. No matter what happened he couldn’t allow himself to be placed in his gnarled hands ever again. There was no telling what the punishment for running away might be. Standing up he leaned forward and placed a hand upon the tree trunk. Listening intently he judged the position of the encampment and the men talking around the edge of it. The fog was his friend this day for no one short of a mage could possibly find him in this soup.

"Not another step, lad!"

The voice froze him where he stood. He was afraid to even look for the source for he knew without looking that he was fairly caught. He thought of running but the sting on his shins reminded him of the folly of running through a forest when he was unable to see. He was trapped.

"Your magic didn’t have to work hard this day, Elmnor! It seems the lad was here all along." Kulivarn laughed aloud. First he heard the man’s heavy footsteps and then he saw his looming shadow push toward him through the fog. Gods he was even bigger than father, Yrnol thought to himself. He had blue eyes, long sand colored hair and a full beard. His light colored clothes were of a material only his mother had ever worn, cotton. Over them he wore leather armor that was form fitting and seemed to allow a greater range of motion than the stiff iron armor his father wore. The pommel of a broad sword arose behind his back and from it hung a cluster of multicolored feathers. Throwing axes were lined about his belt along with another smaller sword. Holding his breath in sheer terror he allowed the big man to pull him out of the trees and into a fire lit clearing where several more men were standing about as if waiting for something. Each of his men was similar to the other natives of Roarersfjord and the nation of Swedonar.

One of the men, however, was distinctly unlike the others. He was clean shaven with a kindly face. His size was nothing, almost feminine compared to the men around him and his clothing was made of something Yrnol’s mother reminisced about constantly, silk. Bright red silk that made him stand out like the sun in the clear blue sky while his feet were covered with polished black leather boots. His head was uncovered and showed a bit of baldness on top which was then ringed by a circle of silver hair that was short and well groomed.

The man Yrnol knew his father had referred to as snake turned his green eyes upon him and nodded once.

"Captain Kulivarn, I would like to introduce you to the eldest son of Saranae Mientallow and Yrnol the black." The captain released his tight grip on Yrnol’s arm, stepped back a pace and bowed.

"I am the captain of yonder vessel, lad."

Yrnol spoke out of turn and expected he would be beaten for it but couldn’t hold the words from spilling from his lips. "Kulivarn, I know. My f…father…" He then looked tentatively beyond those two men.

Both men stopped a moment and looked in the same direction. They looked back at him with understanding and sympathy.

"Have no fear, Yrnol. We cannot leave for a while yet but you will be safe on board my ship until it is time to go. Stay there and your father shall not find you. How long have you been hiding there?" Kulivarn asked gently.

His silence must have said enough for both men exchanged a grimace which they turned to smiles when they looked back upon him.

"So you have been there long enough. You know then that your mother lives, and she waits for you and your brothers to join her even now." The snake said.

"My mother is dead." Yrnol replied with as much defiance as he could muster.

The snake nodded with real sympathy then. "The mother you knew is dead, son. That is true. But only because her heart was broken and she was forced to leave her children behind."

"Why? Why would she leave me, and my brothers? We did nothing wrong!"

"Of course not. She nearly died from that beating your father gave her and those who knew of the culling thought to tell good captain Kulivarn of her predicament."

Kulivarn nodded somberly to the lad as he turned toward him questioningly. "Aye, I saved your mother from dying, lad. I had on board my vessel that day a, what our people would refer to as, a witch. The old woman promised she could save your mother from death but only if we stole away from this place and returned to Iwherdeen. Because of your town’s renowned superstition she would never have succeeded before she was burned alive or some other such atrocity."

Yrnol was still trying to comprehend all of this when the sound of riders returned. Kulivarn took him by the arm and led him straight into the sea and onboard the ship he introduced as the Kindler. From there he was able to spy through the thinning fog and watch as his father and his men took a meal with Kulivarn and his crew. It felt unreal and every few moments Yrnol tried to wake himself up from this dream. Each time he was left in disbelief as the dream did not end. Finally, much later when his father left he was able to move about more freely. It turned out that it was very rare for the guard to come to shore during these times. They were afraid someone might notice and investigate their comings and goings. If the ship and its crew were discovered then the ruse would be revealed and both parties might be out what they had bargained to attain. For the next week young Yrnol proved his worthiness by tending the goats, assisting with repairs and apprenticing to the ship blacksmith. He asked few questions since the snake had promised him his mother had wanted to do all the explaining when he reached her. So, he waited and worked quietly until the day his two brothers and many other townsfolk were dragged kicking and screaming from their homes. Bound and blindfolded they were then led onto the ship and crowded into its hold. He watched amazed as his father arrived soon later to see them off. He neither asked after nor looked for his two remaining sons but young Yrnol learned later that this was only because he didn’t yet know that they had been taken. The ship disembarked swiftly and with its hold full of protesting townsfolk.

In the distance Roarersfjord was left in disarray and confusion as the latest rash of disappearances took place during the night. This would be the last journey north, or so said captain Kulivarn. There would be no more time for such recovery missions since by the time they returned to Iwherdeen war would have already begun. Yrnol pulled his collar tight around his neck as he shivered in the chill sea breeze. He thought to wonder what his future might hold, but he recognized that greater beings than himself would decide that.

CHAPTER TWO

SARANAE MIENTALLOW

Iwherdeen was a small continent south of the greater land mass of the northern kingdom of Swedonar. Its closeness to the equator denied it the seasonal changes of the north while the waters surrounding it were often plagued by terrible storms. Only the wisest of seamen dared brave the storms during their season so winter was the safest time to approach the southern kingdom.

During the journey Yrnol felt the heat of the sun like never before and quickly went shirtless like the crew of the Kindler. He burned initially but tanned very quickly due to his southern ancestry. The natives of Roarersfjord stayed below decks for the most part when the sun was up, coming up only to spew what little food they could stomach into the sea. The three sons of Yrnol the Black seemed unaffected by seasickness. In fact, they took to life at sea like they had been born to it. Syam and Pulnor were angry at their brother at first but as soon as he mentioned that their mother still lived all argument was put aside. There was no denying the boys had little love for their father and after a few days the two younger brothers admitted they had been cruel to their elder for reasons they never understood.

Kulivarn and his men spent the next month at sea teaching the boys how to be worthy crewmen. In return they lessened their own workload and had more time to spend trying to impress the several women now onboard. Yrnol was quick to notice that the men were nothing like his father or his guardsmen. They pranced about and boasted their skills, leaving the women to choose who their favorite was. His father’s men would never have allowed such a thing. As far as they were concerned a woman had no rights and certainly no right to choose who they might mate with. This new freedom was enough to quell the townsfolk’s complaints at least for the voyage.

After a month passed the ocean turned bright blue and calmed. The heat of the sun became like a hammer and the thin winds barely propelled the Kindler forward. Each morning the ship mage cast a secret spell that remedied that problem. Unnatural winds that bore the cold of the north appeared from nowhere and everywhere all at once and moved the vessel at high speed until midafternoon when apparently the spell was spent. When land finally appeared on the horizon Yrnol and his brothers were worthy crewmen and could likely hire on to any sea vessel worth its measure in gold.

Syam and Pulnor were two years apart with Pulnor being two years younger than Yrnol. They were young but Kulivarn assured him it was at these young ages that most men first learned of the sea trade. Elmnor mentioned then that it was also at such young ages that folk were chosen to take up the mystic arts. None of the brothers were inclined to ask for details about this though. Magic was as alien to them as was the heat of the sun. They were content to accept its existence but not to contemplate the reasons why. They were just lads after all.

The communal exuberance at having finally reached their destination filled the crewmen upon sighting the capital city of Iwherdeen. Spires arose all along its outer sea wall and teardrop shaped towers filled the city interior. Painted in every color of the rainbow they glistened like jewels in the sun. Numerous white and multicolored sails filled the sea as trading vessels and fishing cogs vied for space in the crowded manmade harbor. Far in the distance a column of black smoke was lazily rising into the sky and drifting toward the city.

Yrnol casually made his way to where Kulivarn and Elmnor conversed quietly over this phenomenon.

"The next town is many miles away. With that much smoke I have to believe the entire place has been put to the torch." Elmnor said solemnly.

Kulivarn nodded. "Aye, they have gained the southern approach. Once we drop you and your cargo we will head south in search of refugees."

"No doubt that is already being taken care of, my friend. I wouldn’t risk the Kindler at this point if I were you." Elmnor responded.

"You speak as wisely as ever. What would you have me do?" Kulivarn asked.

"I would have you wait for me here. Your vessel is faster than anything Iwherdeen or its new foe can sail. If we are forced to evacuate I would ask you to carry the royal line itself to safety." Elmnor replied.

Kulivarn took one more look at the column of smoke and nodded. "I will wait for your word either way. Besides, some of my crew have families here of their own."

Both men turned around then and were taken aback for a moment. Yrnol stood there with his jaw agape and confusion in his eyes.

"Don’t just stand there, lad! There is work to do if we are to dock safely." Kulivarn barked harshly.

Yrnol knew the code of the sea well enough by now. His questions would have to come later.

"Aye, captain!" He said as he let the two men pass.

Elmnor favored him with a smile. "Always within ears reach, eh Yrnol? Once we have docked gather your brothers and I shall lead you to your mother, until then keep your questions quiet around the townsfolk. They have had enough to deal with without hearing about a looming battle."

"Yes, Elmnor, I understand." Yrnol replied.

Two more hours passed by before the Kindler made dock, plenty of time for young Yrnol to come to his own conclusions. The many vessels he’d seen upon first sighting land were not exactly what logic had said they were. What were once fishing and trading vessels had been conscripted into the royal navy. Most would be used to carry supplies and men while those ships with unique qualities would be used for more vital operations. As the dock came into view there was a conspicuous lack of people who did not wear a uniform or badge bearing the colors of the city. Civilians, as Elmnor referred to the normal citizens, were few and far between. A score of giant warships lined the dock taking in supplies and soldiers as they prepared for battle. Each one was a massive three tiered galleon carrying dozens of what Kulivarn called cannons along each side. The number of men it must have required to crew the ships and each of their cannons must have been enormous. Yrnol shivered as he thought of the death toll just one of these vessels would take if it were sunk beneath the waves.

The much smaller, sleeker Kindler docked beside these behemoths and may as well have been a fishing cog. It bore no cannons or other weaponry and boasted only a small crew with a large compliment of warriors. It was unlikely such a ship would be useful in the sort of war Iwherdeen was preparing to fight. Yrnol recalled one particular tale his mother had told him in which the ship she and his father had taken north. They had been chased for days by a sleek black galleon armed with cannons and flying blood red sails. Swedonar dragonships were the fastest in the water and only that had saved them from falling into the vessel’s range. If that ship represented the enemy of the south today then a vicious sea battle was about to take place. The only unknown as far as he could see was the presence of mages. Did the enemy have them as well? Were they even used during sea battles? How many mages could be mustered in case there was an attack on the city?

"What do we do now, Yrnol?" Pulnor had come up behind him while he was staring up at the galleons in all their majesty. Beside him was Syam who was also entranced by these looming giants.

Before he could reply Elmnor arrived. "Come along, lads. I promised you would see your mother." With a smile and a hop to his step the scarlet garbed mage led them into the city. Behind him Yrnol could hear the bellowing voice of Kulivarn shouting commands to his men. Idly he wondered if he would ever see him or his crew again.

^ ^ ^

Far south of the capital city of Alizabhar the port town of Celudnaj burned. The raging fires had taken every building and every stand of trees nearby. The dunes of sand surrounding the site were all that was left. There was little chance that anyone would be able to dwell there again. Above the town the sky was finally clearing of ash, revealing the identity of those responsible for such carnage. A veritable swarm of giant air ships hovered silently over their latest victim. Called dirigibles by their makers they were the color of the sky, thus nearly invisible to the naked eye from long distances. Now though they were stained gray and black by the soot of ash and smoke. Onboard these balloon-based innovations were large crews of men and a single powerful weapon. Fed by a large vat full of flammable, clinging chemicals it could unleash a veritable tidal wave of flame. Utilizing these weapons the sky fleet of the far away kingdom of Yanwu Ko had blazed their way across the world. One after another small kingdom fell to their knees in surrender and offered tribute to the masters of the fearsome dirigibles. Now they approached their largest and most advanced target yet, Iwherdeen. Their ambassadors had already been rebuffed and as they had promised Yanwu Ko was destroying every settlement on their way to the capital.

Aboard the larger dirigible the air Fleet Commander Lou mi Wong looked out at his handiwork. Standing at attention nearby an entire retinue of advisors, generals and alchemists awaited orders at their lord’s pleasure. His gray hair and flesh told the tale of his age while the yellow tinge to his skin and slanted eyes bespoke his origin. His expression was one of barely restrained rage. It was one he’d mastered over time.

"Report!" The Fleet Commander had allowed his men to stand and wait for some time before he bothered to ask for their report. He already knew most of what they were going to tell him but he liked to give them time to contemplate their words before they spoke. This had served him well in the past and saved him from having to replace the fools among them before they had grown into their positions.

One young advisor, clad in the wool lined black leather trousers and jacket common to members of the dirigible scourge, kneeled and said, "My lord. It is like the other port towns and villages. All of the citizens had been evacuated before we arrived."

The Fleet Commander nodded sagely and clasped his hands behind his back. Another man kneeled.

"The resistance was enough to provoke our all out attack. The town is decimated, but we have again wasted precious fuel both for our dirigibles and for our weapons." The man remained on his knees with eyes downcast, as if waiting to be chastised.

Lou mi Wong looked at every one of his generals then, none of which had dared speak up yet, and asked, "Which one of you ordered the attack?"

All eyes in the room focused on one man. He was portly by most standards and despite the chill of their current elevation he was sweating beneath his leather and wool. Clearly he knew what was coming. As the Fleet Commander leveled a disappointed harrumph his way the space began to clear around him as his fellows sought to separate themselves from his actions.

It took only a nod and four large men, muscles bulging from beneath their leathers, stepped forward and took hold of the seated general. Another nod and a window was opened in the room. A great wind howled into the space but not a man winced or tried to cover their faces. To do so would have been a sign of weakness and they might have joined their beleaguered associate as the guards promptly picked him up and tossed him from the dirigible. Admirably he never voiced a single protest or even screamed as he plummeted toward the ground.

"Let this be a lesson for all of you. The nation of Yanwu Ko will brook no idiots among their leaders. Clearly general Pou had not been paying attention during the past several weeks of our advance. If he had he would have known that an all out attack was a waste of resources. If he had he would have known to ask his Fleet Commander before deciding the actions of the entire fleet that is not his to command!" Lou mi Wong dragged his steel gaze across the room one more time then turned his back sharply.

"Dismissed!" He snarled, showing all of his displeasure and anger in that single word. Still, he knew he would be lucky if no more mistakes were made. His fleet, in fact the only fleet, had been well supplied when they embarked upon this campaign. Supply dirigibles followed from a distance and those that were emptied returned to Yanwu Ko to refill and eventually returned to the front. This took considerable time though and Lou knew that a full out attack against the capital was no longer possible. He would have to utilize tactics that would enable victory without losing every reserve at his disposal.

This was why he had been made Fleet Commander. For decades he had studied under the world’s greatest war generals and there were none alive that were his peer. The people of Iwherdeen had shown resourcefulness and wisdom thus far and he could not help but admire their tactics. They had already cost him several generals and advisors he’d been forced to make examples of and he dearly needed those he had left.

He reached out then and took the wired speaker off its mount on the wall and addressed the control room.

"We will hold this position for a week. If no more refueling dirigibles arrive by then we will press on to Alizabhar. Pass along the command." Without waiting for a response, supremely confident his orders would be heeded to the letter, he hung up the speaker and sat down for a few hours meditation.

^ ^ ^

It was unreal seeing someone you had been sure was deceased. Yrnol could hardly believe it but like his brothers he wept like a babe at his mother’s feet. Their relief overwhelmed them in a flood of emotion. Ever since they’d lost her they had been under their father’s watchful eye. Emotions to him were a weakness and the sons of Yrnol the Black should never be seen as weak. Their father would have beaten them all for their crying but he was nowhere near enough to do that and the boys were grateful.

Saranae simply held her beloved children, tears streaming down her face and breathless with joy. She was even more beautiful than her boys remembered with long black hair that hung straight and shining down to her ankles. Her skin was the olive tan of the natives and her eyes were an exotic green that twinkled almost unnaturally. The generous curves of her body reminded them that she was younger than father by far and although she had birthed three children she was still the picture of youth and vitality. The dress she wore was unlike anything the lads had ever seen with embroidered water dragons racing around her body, just covering her voluptuous features enough to tease the eye. At the age of thirty she was still capable of entrancing any male who was witness to her grace and beauty.

The halls here needed no torch to light their spaces. Magic was preeminent in Alizabhar and glowing globes of light simply hovered at every corner leaving no room for shadows.

After a time the reunited loved ones sat back and shared their tales of the past two years. Saranae’s tale was the most intriguing. She had been secreted off by Kulivarn and his crew and cared for by a witch on her month long journey home. Arriving there she discovered her people were under attack from the far away nation of Yanwu Ko. The yellow skinned tyrants were trying to use their technological superiority to convince the rest of the world that they were destined to rule over all. Hardly anyone bothered listening to their nonsense but they had unleashed a fleet of airships and methodically eliminated all but the strongest of those who would resist. Only Iwherdeen and Swedonar remained independent and the battle was soon to come to the capital city itself.

"The saddest thing of all, my children, is that the vast kingdom of Swedonar has mostly ignored Yanwu Ko and its advance across the world. They believe themselves immune from the reach of the foreigners but they are fools. They are unaware of the dirigibles and the fearsome weapons they employ." Saranae said sadly.

"What about us, mother? What shall we do when the dirigibles arrive here?" Pulnor asked.

"Have no fear, Pulnor. Iwherdeen has more than enough surprises of its own to protect its people. Magic, for instance, is a weapon that we employ and that no other kingdom can boast of. It shall provide as it always has and our Goddess has already blessed our efforts." Saranae smiled serenely, confident beyond words of her safety and of her Goddess’ blessing. The boys felt an unfamiliar warmth flood through them then that they could not name. Their mother recognized their expressions and saw the redness wash over their faces.

"There, you see? The goddess is pleased with you and she embraces you from afar. Your blood suddenly runs hot and your mind swims, does it not? In time I shall show you how to connect to your inner being and from there you will be able see the Goddess herself in all her splendor."

Yrnol found his mouth had gone dry, swallowing hard he tilted his head and asked, "Who is the Goddess, mother? How will we know her?"

"The Goddess is the world itself, my dear son. She rests at the heart of it and watches over her many children. It was she who first created life in the ocean and then spawned men from the lowliest of sea creatures. Everything we have learned, whether we be of Iwherdeen or Yanwu Ko, is thanks to her guidance. Everything we have accomplished, be it through magic or technology, is thanks to her blessing. The only creatures she shuns are those who seek to destroy what she has created and right now I believe that applies to the nation of Yanwu Ko. Already they have destroyed countless religious sites across the world and now they seek to put Iwherdeen to the flame. Ever since its beginning the southern kingdom has dedicated itself to the Goddess, whom we call Astnalia, and we have embraced all other kingdoms as our allies. This is the first war of our time and not since the wars one thousand years ago have we been under such terrible duress." Saranae lightly clapped her delicate hands together and a pair of nearly nude female servants rushed from a hidden doorway laden with a decanter and four simple cups.

Yrnol could not believe what he was seeing. These women were so beautiful and so exotic compared to the women of Swedonar. In fact, judging by their dark brown skin and tightly curled black hair they weren’t even native to Iwherdeen.

"They are lovely are they not?" His mother had caught him staring.

Embarrassed beyond measure he could barely stammer out a reply. "Y…yes, they are. Wh…where do they…"

"They come from a tiny nation far to the south. It has been taken by Yanwu Ko but we were able to evacuate many of their people safely. They are not slaves, Yrnol. They are free folk with the right to choose like any other. They are in many ways favored by the Goddess." Saranae smiled brightly as she spoke and the serving girls smiled just as brightly. One of them met Yrnol’s eyes for a moment and winked and he felt his heart flutter and his stomach lurch. For a moment he was breathless and couldn’t recover until she was once again out of sight.

"I believe Kenya likes you, Yrnol." Saranae said.

Pulnor and Syam guffawed and snorted, pointing at their older brother. They were silenced by a hard look from their mother though and Yrnol hardly had time to notice.

"You two are still young but soon enough you will see the beauty Yrnol sees and you will feel the fool for mocking him. Act not the fool for too long, mind you, lest a truly pretty girl like Kenya decides on another and you end up with the fat, homely daughter of a baker and his wife."

Syam was the youngest and he was the most chagrinned by all of this.

"Mother! I think not! I will become a mighty blacksmith, or perhaps join the crew of the Kindler, and I will have no time for silly girls!" Pulnor and Yrnol both smiled and looked to their mother with anticipation. The little boy had very big dreams and their father had constantly belittled him for it. Now that he’d shown his true colors to their mother they expected much the same. They were to be disappointed.

"Oh, Syam, that is wonderful news. For one as young as you to have already decided on his life course is a rare thing. It shows both character and wisdom beyond your years and I daresay beyond your peers as well. I would be proud to have a son who was a crafty blacksmith or even a stalwart crewman of the famous Kindler." Saranae said.

Syam was beaming with pride and looked to his brothers with his tiny chest puffed out.

"But I must admit Syam that one of the greatest wishes of any good mother is to see her son married and have children of his own. I would understand, of course, for it is the way of some men to seek only the company of other men. You would still be my son and I will always love you." She said with half smile.

It was Yrnol’s turn to guffaw then. He laughed through his nose again as he realized Pulnor didn’t get the joke. His young brothers had been asleep usually during the drunken ramblings of their father and his men. They had often spoken derisively of men who stayed overlong on ships, away from the touch and smiles of sweet womenfolk. He knew that his mother was referring to the same thing.

"Now, Yrnol, give your brother time. After a handful of years he’ll recognize the beauty of a silly girl, just like you. Take care, my sons, that you keep to your own circles. I have heard many a sad tale about brothers who came to blows over their choosing of the same girl. I would not have you breaking your family bonds over youthful exuberance, and you must always take care to remember. This is not Swedonar. Women have the same rights as men and if they are not of royal lineage they can choose whatever man they wish. Just because you have chosen a girl doesn’t mean she shall choose you. It is during these times, not during mindless battle, that boys truly become separated from the men." Saranae smiled and drank from her cup the fresh water of Alizabhar.

CHAPTER THREE

THE FALL OF MIE WE

Deep beneath the royal estates of Alizabhar the school of the Tri-tongue logic was preparing for war. The feast hall of the school was a long marble floored chamber with a high, arched ceiling. Hung on all of the surrounding walls were banners honoring the greater accomplishments of their many students who had come and gone. At the head of one table sat the current Headmistress of the school. Elmnor saw her there and felt warmth rush throughout his body. It was all he could do to resist embracing her immediately. Until now he wasn’t quite sure how much he’d missed her while he was gone. He knew now he never wanted to be away from her again.

"You have been gone too long, Elmnor. I trust your duty was fulfilled?" She was a pleasantly plump middle-aged woman who had been one of his fellow students over two centuries before. The magic of the Goddess had preserved her perfectly. Though no man would ever consider her a beauty she had an unmistakable womanly presence that charmed every man she met. Though overweight her smile and glittering green eyes were enough to dazzle the wiliest of rogues and her surprisingly firm and ample bosom convinced them that pursuing her affections would certainly be worthwhile. Once upon a time they had been rivals but recently they had been lovers and confidantes.

"I have missed you, Dorathidae. My duty to my cousin is indeed done, and soon I think we shall have one or more new students attending class." Elmnor bent and kissed the lady mage gently upon the lips and she welcomed the gesture lustily.

"Perhaps we shall have some time to ourselves beforehand?" Dorathidae smiled suggestively and Elmnor could only chuckle and kissed her once more. There was an openness about her that at once befuddled him and made his blood boil with passion. Decorum forced him to take a seat as she nibbled at his left ear.

"Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged, my dear, but tell me, how goes the preparations. Have we been able to save the citizens of the southernmost towns?" He asked as he sat beside her at the long breakfast table. All along the length of the table on either side were the set places for the many elder students. They alone were allowed to sit at the table beside the teachers. The giant hall had another six like tables. The farthest from the teachers was the initiate table where the youngest of the students would sit when the breakfast bell was rung. There were enough places set in the hall for all twelve teachers and the current roster of ninety two students.

"Yes, the poor folks were quite confused and alarmed but we convinced them to evacuate in time. At each town we left a small compliment of defenders behind in order to force the enemy to use their resources. Each time the defenders were able to escape in time. We have lost no more than a few stubborn old folk and some sickly farm animals." Dorathidae replied animatedly. It had been her plan and Elmnor had supported her before the royal family. No doubt after all this was over she would be rewarded.

"You are amazing, my love. While the rest of us scramble about looking for the proper keywords to cast our prediction spells you rely on your own unequaled intuition and succeed where others fail." Elmnor gently took her hand and caressed it affectionately. He smiled as his lady blushed at the compliment.

"My intuition is a gift from the Goddess, Elmnor. I claim no credit for it." Dora responded demurely.

Elmnor was about to respond but his voice was drowned out by the clamoring of the breakfast bell and then the boisterous students as they scurried to find their seats. They each wore robes that signified their level of understanding with red being the color worn by teachers. The seniors wore magenta while the first year students wore black, signifying their lack of understanding.

The meal passed quickly with many of the senior students rushing over to greet Elmnor. He had been gone for over two months and many of them had never been without his supervision. He took care though to greet none more joyfully than another. He also took care to show just a tiny bit of indifference. It was imperative that the students did not get too attached to their teachers for at the end of every student’s tenor they were assigned to another location in Iwherdeen. Though now that towns were being ruthlessly put to the flame to the south some assignments were going to have to be changed or postponed for an unknown amount of time.

"The children all seem well. Were there any incidents while I was away?" Elmnor asked between mouthfuls of egged bread and chipped lamb gravy.

"Nothing that I and the others couldn’t handle. The initiates are wanting for a lesson or two about the Tri-tongue concepts though. I think they, like every group before them, could use some time with our language expert." Dorathidae replied.

Elmnor simply nodded and enjoyed the savory meal. For two months he had been forced to eat the same fare as Kulivarn and his crew. Though it had been nutritional and filling the seafood and occasional nameless mush had been anything but satisfying.

When breakfast was done the students and teachers alike filed from the hall and headed to their appointed classrooms. Since he was newly returned and didn’t have a class to teach Elmnor stayed behind to tend the giant mess. Concentrating just for a moment and focusing his inner being to a fine pinpoint of energy he mentally sought out the three words that would explain his logic and implement his desire through the Goddess of life and magic.

"Cleanliness, health and decorum, by Astnalia return this hall and kitchen to its proper state." With a flourish he waved both his arms toward the sky and then bowed on one knee in supplication. Instantly the mess began cleaning itself up. Silverware was polished and returned to their proper places. Tables were cleared and wiped clean. Towels and rags were washed, rinsed and wringed dry. The floor was cleaned and polished and even the ceiling was cleared of cobwebs. All was left in order to be utilized for the next meal of the day.

"Astnalia be praised." Elmnor arose and left the hall for the royal estate of his cousin. It was time to check on her boys. One of them, he believed, had the potential to study at the Tri-tongue school of logic. After spending a month with them at sea he had felt the familiar spark of untrained logic that could be forged into a powerful mage of Alizabhar. The only question was which lad he had felt that potential coming from. After a few tests and properly worded questions he should be able to determine their eligibility. It was no surprise actually since Saranae was a talented mage in her own right. She had learned at the school before she’d become entangled with Swedonar’s general and it was likely one or more of her children

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.08.2016
ISBN: 978-3-7396-7013-3

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