Help
Am posting this in a request for feedback kind of mode. I'd be grateful for any first impressions, whether you'd be interested in reading further, that kind of thing. This is the full text of the prologue of my current WIP, whose title is currently in flux but which I generally refer to as 'The Company of Men'. Here's hoping that all the diacritical marks come out OK.
-- Prologue begins --
Prologue: Chaïok, 662, The Fourth Age of Man
There are Watchers in everyland. Eternal, undying. The other races of Man call us the Watchersfrom the South, and there many of us remain, apart from their brethren.
But there are some who still walkamong the other races, some who perpetuate the myths. For we have faded to legend in the mind ofMan, and even for those who are called the Ancient, and their Grey brothers,have we passed from memory.
For those of us, then, who stillwalk the lands of men, there is little danger. The Time of War is past, and the knowledge of those devices used toconstrain us has passed out of the minds of men -- and we will not return it tothem, though they plead mightily.
They call me Uchār, which in thefree tongue means ‘the same.’ When theygreet me, they say, ‘You are the same,’ and so I have taken it as my name. I do not spend too long in one place: we wereever roamers, even in the First Age when all was new. And now there is more reason to keep no abodesave that of Thurulingas our fastness in the north. Rumours of those who maintain their youthfulappearance far past the middle years of neighbours who knew them when theythemselves were young reach ones we must be careful of. Yes, even we who cannot die.
We can feel pain. And well do I remember those devices ofPurūkh-An, and have no desire to feel their cold embrace once more.
So I wander. And it is pleasant, to see Men in all theirsplendour, in the nations of the earth, in this Fourth Age, which already some arecalling Golden. For the Time of Warwhich consumed the Third Age is past, and men forget.
I wandered for some time in thereaches of the Grey Ones under the mountains, whose memories are long and whoselives span many years, many more than their brothers of the race of Man. The secrets of some fashionings I did speakunto those that asked, for they knew me and treated me with great courtesy, asis the wont of the long-lived. Therewere some questions I could not answer, being outside the realms of mycuriosity, and these I directed to others of my own race, wherever they mightbe found. For our wanderings take us farafield, and we do not tarry long in one place.
Grey was the sky when I came toChaïok, that free city of the state of Shchiko, and it had rained heavily theday before. Lush grass covered the hillsbefore the city, and its wall was great and foreboding. But its gates were open, as I knew they wouldbe, for never had they closed since Chaïok gained its charter. I walked, being passed on both sides of theroad by horsemen and carts of all sizes, carriages and conveyances and trapsand even other walkers with more purpose than I. Steadily drew I near to the gate, and thenceinto the city itself.
Once inside the walls, the city’sforbidding aspect lessened somewhat, though grim enough was the countenance ofits people, for they had heard the rumours of dark tidings from the South. Taking me for a traveller (for so I was, andit was not difficult to determine this), they did question me about eventsacross the waters, but I could tell them but little, for I had not taken thatroad, and knew no more than the rumours they had already heard -- but these Itold freely. Grudgingly they let mecontinue, though even as I passed on new rumours sprang up in my wake,combinings of old rumours with the added ingredient of fresh spice. The rumours had been repeated by a traveller,so surely they must be true? I sighedand continued towards the central spur of the city, for there it was that mydestination lay.
Chaïok was built long ages ago,and has passed through the hands of many men in its time. It bore the marks of this on its bones. Its great walls, grey and bleak in the mannerof its current occupants, had been raised and subsequently lowered many timesin its long history. Even its name,Chaïok, was a legacy of its long and bitter history, changing hands manytimes. ‘Fickle One’ its name meant inthe language of the Second Age, though that knowledge was no longer extant inthe realms of men in this time.
The city lay to the west of theIrulan Empire, and west too of the range of mountains called the Spine of theWest, that divided Shchiko from the empire. The hills I had travelled were mere foothills to those awesomepeaks. It had been long since I had seentheir majesty so close. Two Gatheringshad been and gone in Thurulingas since last I ventured west of the Spine.
I entered through the gates,feeling the long miles of my journey deep in my aching muscles, and wantedlittle more than a hot meal and a soak before laying myself down. But before I could avail myself of thedubious hospitality of the city’s inns, there were obligations to be met, whichI would not deny even were I minded to do so.
The temple district lay in thewest of the city, and I trudged along paved streets, my way dimly lit by weakand flickering lamps. I frowned at thisevidence of neglect on the part of the city proctors, and wondered if it wasnot a signal of some deeper malaise. Thepower to light such lamps had never been wisdom we kept from the races ofman. In previous excursions to Chaïok Ihad been impressed at the forward thinking of its ruling class, and Iremembered with pleasure the instances of such care for their city’sfuture. This transient light suggestedthat all was perhaps not as I remembered.
The city was still full ofpeople, and their vibrant clothing and warm greetings seemed to mock mymisgivings. As I walked along thestreets towards the temple district I felt my heart lighten. Perhaps the neglect of the lights was buttemporary, a remnant of the long summer days and something to be repaired nowthat the nights were becoming longer. Iresolved to ask of the priests of the Lawful Trinity when I reach the temple.
Closer to the temple district,the streets became noticeably more prosperous. Walls no longer coated with simple charms and fetishes, but with plantedposts bearing sigils of protection at their borders and above their lintels. Passing the doors I could feel the strengthof those wards, and the subtle encouragement to pass on if I were of inimicalbent. My mouth turned up at one corner--- such banes would have no real effect on one such as I, though it wasexpedient not to betray such for now. SoI carried on, past ever larger houses and properties that could not reasonablybe called houses. Great mansions now,closer to the temple circle where all residents would worship their chosendeity, and the Trinity whose patronage Chaïok bore. These were grand indeed, and I noted some remnantof the architectural heritage of the south of the Spine, Ar-Eshōn perhaps, orMarograd. Perhaps even Phas Karallai,where Nithras had spent some time. Eventhough that had been near three hundred years past, still the brilliance of hiscreations echoed down the ages, inspiring mortal architects to ever greaterheights while he moved on to new projects.
Finally, I found myself at theouter Circle, where one of the radiant spokes from the central temple of theTrinity of Lawful Judges intersected its circumference. Continuing along this road, now seeminglypaved with large slabs of some white stone and edged with carved granite, Ipassed between the lesser temples of the Totally Aware and the Resourceful One,inclining my head in a slight gesture of respect each for Khabēer and Wāajid inturn.
Ahead lay the temple of thethree. Golden steps climbed up to asummit of gold, lined with plants in pots and trenches. A continual flow of penitents and beseecherstraversed the steps and the expanse of marble flagstones before them,marshalled by the acolytes of the order. These young men and women, clad in sober brown robes edged with white,grey, or black --- signifying which of the Trinity they followed --- went abouttheir business calmly and without rush. It all seemed rather orderly for the free city of Chaïok.
I approached the queue, andpresented a token to the acolyte.
‘Your name and business?’ sheasked, looking up at me.
‘Uchār, a wanderer.’ I paused while she noted this in the bookbefore her. A record of all visitors tothe temple had been kept ever since I can remember, and the archives of theserecords fill enormous vaults in the depths of the temple. Not a rival to my own vaults in Thurulingas,of course. But extensive, nonetheless.
‘And the purpose of your visit?’
‘I would pay my respects to thethree.’ Suitably non-specific.
‘Please join the queue,’ shesaid, nodding to her left where the snaking line of penitents and petitionerstailed off raggedly.
I nodded back and moved over,standing behind a woman dressed nearly as finely as any I had seen thus far inthe city. Her hair was bound up, andcaught in a net of silk strands threaded with pearls, and covered with a translucentveil. She wore a deep green robe of whatappeared to be linen, belted tightly at the waist by a length of whiteleather. Across her shoulders, a brownshawl was draped carelessly, seemingly heedless of the wind. It was embroidered thickly in gold thread,and the design was of a charging boar, shifting gently in the wind and seemingalmost lifelike. It was edged in thesame gold thread, glimmering in the light from the lamps surrounding the plaza,and these glowed with a steady light, unlike those I had encountered earlier.
The queue moved slowly forward,and I followed the woman as she advanced. We crossed the plaza, and as we progressed acolytes came out andinformed us how long we might expect to wait. No one left the queue, however.
It was dark beyond the walls ofthe city as I entered the temple, finally moving through the greatentrance. The doors remained open ---justice, after all, was available all hours of the day and night in Shchiko ---and several petitioners had joined the queue after me. Moving into the temple proper, my eyes tooksome time to adjust, as the great crystal set in the dome continued to shed itsbrilliant light over all. The searingblaze of justice, the penetrating light of mercy, the fierce radiance of truth,the light from the crystal penetrated all chambers of the temple, redirected,split and augmented by mirrors and glasses using all the artifice of my sisterAölie, who had resided here when the Trinity still walked the earth. Her craft still had the power to awe, and thelight of the crystal had never dimmed. My archives recorded the hiding places it had seen during the Third Age,when all men warred with each other. Iwondered where Aölie was currently. Ihad seen her last when I was in Thurulingas for the last Gathering, over twomortal lifetimes ago.
Once my eyes had becomeaccustomed to the light, I followed my queue, still snaking across the expanseof marble tiles that formed the floor of the temple’s entrance hall. Three separate staircases rose to the levelabove, where penitents and petitioners both made their pleas to the Trinity,and received blessings and benison from the Archcelebrant or one of hishigh-ranking deputies.
I had chosen my queue well,however, despite the attempts at misdirection in the courtyard outside, and Iknew the signs which led me to choose the Archcelebrant’s queue. So it was that when I was eventually admittedto the chamber, through the sliding doors --- transparent, but ringing likemetal when I flicked a finger against them --- the Archcelebrant himself waitedto receive me.
He was an old man, that much Icould see even from across the room. Yetstill vigorous, it seemed. His mostlyhairless head was a dark brown, marking him clearly as a native of Sere. His robes and vestments were all of a clear,white material, serving to throw his skin into even greater relief.
An attendant motioned me closer,and I approached. When I stopped infront of the desk behind which he sat, he looked up at me, and thosepenetrating eyes caught mine.
‘I felt you --- from miles away,I felt you,’ he said. ‘I have not felt aweight like that since a visit from a Grey One, and you are no Grey One.’ He cocked his head. ‘Who--- what are you?’
I bowed my head beforeanswering. Better now that he notremember this meeting.
‘Ei-an ach Ash-Shahēed d’īn,’I murmured, softly enough that only he could hear. His mouth opened, and his head rolled back,eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. That ancient invocation penetrated all his order’s protections. And when he faced me once more, it was notthe Trinity’s Archcelebrant who faced me, but a presence far greater.
‘Leave us!’ he directed theattendants in the room. The voice wasstill the Archcelebrant’s, but only I could detect the force that lay behindit, brooking no disobedience. Theyscattered, and we were left alone.
Those eyes caught my gaze, somuch more now than that simple man. Thecolour was unchanged, but the depth was profoundly changed.
‘Youcalled...it has been a long time,’ he said, the voice ringing in my earslike a small thunderclap. ‘Hiraō, speak quickly. I cannot manifest long without undoing theBalance we gained so long ago. Thisvessel cannot long contain me.’
‘My respects, great Judge. I would not have disturbed you were not theneed great. But I ask only this: thatyou put my mind at rest concerning the Balance. Does it stand?’
‘Whathave you heard, Archivist?’
‘Nothing concrete, LawfulOne. Mere...misgivings.’
The voice fell silent, the eyesdistant, no longer holding my attention. When they returned, a frown had appeared on the face of theArchcelebrant, the Goddess’s vessel.
‘Thereis movement in the Balance. Somethingstirs to the North.’ The head wasthrown back, a snarl replacing the frown. ‘I cannot see more --- and thisvessel is almost done. Seek the sourceof this imbalance, Hiraō, and correct it, as ever your kin have sought to do!’
I bowed my head, and said, ‘Yourwill be done, Light of Heaven.’ Butalready, the Archcelebrant’s head had slumped forward, and his eyes were closedtightly as he struggled to regain his sense of self. After a final shudder, he seemed to come backto himself, though the gaze that met mine was still somewhat confused.
‘You! Are you still here? What is it you want, man!’ He seemed to have forgotten his questionsfrom before, and I was not minded to remind him.
‘I merely wished to pay myrespects, Eminence,’ I murmured, ‘and so have I done. I will continue my journey, with your leave.’
‘Of course, of course,’ hereplied, a trace of confusion still apparent. I did not hesistate, but backed away and exited via one of the smallerdoors.
I had no sooner pushed the doorclosed when I felt the prick of a blade in the small of my back, and a coldchill seemed to lock my body frozen.
‘Do not turn around,’ a low voicesaid quietly by my ear. ‘Do not speak,or attempt to use any of those interesting devices. You will have an opportunity to speak veryshortly.’ My arm was grabbed, and theknife urged me to proceed in the direction it suggested.
I was taken quickly andefficiently through side corridors. Itwas late enough that there were few acolytes around, and those that saw us wereeasily diverted by my captor. We endedup in a small room in the east wing of the temple, where the light from thecrystal, though still bright, was beginning to dim with the coming of thetemple’s rest period. At no time had Ibeen afforded even a sliver of a chance to escape, or prepare a suprise for myassailants.
The room was small and cramped,just wide enough for the table and chair that occupied it. And in the chair, facing the window andthrough it, the city beyond, was a woman.
She spoke without turning. ‘We know who you are, Archivist.’
I thought furiously. Had I given myself away? No one knew of my present through my ownactions, and I judged it sufficiently long since any of my kin had been in herethat any sensitives might mistake us for one of our Grey brothers or sisters,who were much more numerous.
‘Your knowledge is remarkable,’ Isaid, stalling. ‘I see no point indenying it.’
She turned, finally, though ahood prevented me from seeing her features. She moved carefully, as one who is old, but her voice did not bespeakany great age to me. And her presencewas not that of a mage, that weight that is so distinctive.
‘We have waited for so long,’ shecontinued, seeming to pick her way through the conversation as though carefullyavoiding stepping on cracks in the pavement while walking the courtyardoutside. ‘We knew that you would comehere one day. Your age has made youpredictable, I fear.’ Was that a smile Idetected?
‘You have the advantage of me, Ifear.’
‘Indeed.’ She reached up and threw her hood back. Thick black hair cascaded down around hershoulders, but her face was a mask. Adead mask, skin stretched taut over bones, white and dry. Her eyes were deep set, black and empty, hercheeks hollow. And she breathed only tospeak.
The chill touch of the blade atmy back forestalled my reaction. Itseemed the warning of Ash-Shakōor had come too late.
‘Now, Archivist. We will speak, and you will tell us what wewish to know. We know your limitations,and are experienced at delivering pain without forcing you to be quit of thisshell.’ She leaned forward, and deep inthe pit of one eye a single point of light flared. She reached up with one bony hand and caughtmy chin, her grip strong and rigid. ‘Youwill tell us all we wish to know of the lost crown.’
-- Prologue ends --
This post has been edited by jitsukerr: 16 August 2010 - 02:25 PM
