The Book of the Blessed

Book Two

Go In Strength, Possess All Gates

Ten

“There will come to you a mighty man,

a comrade who saves his friend—

he is the mightiest in the land, he is strongest,

he is as mighty as the serpents of Amana!”

Oloreth spoke to his mother, the Goddess Addiwak, saying:

“So may it to pass!

May I have a friend and adviser, a friend and adviser may I have!

You have interpreted for me the dreams about him!”

-From:The Song of Oloreth

KINGSBORO ABBEY

Cedd loathed coming to the Abbey every morning and listening to the monks of the great monastery drone on. He knew that others considered this a pleasure, and their music holy, but he had little use for it.

Oh, for those days when they had worshiped the old gods and killing and plunder had been the way they had worshiped, the simple sacrifice of blood on a stone, prayer and ritual for the skalds, the old men and women of magic. But most of those had disappeared and the ones who had remained gone into the White, the Black and the Grey orders. Now no one remembered the old gods, and if they’d had any power it was gone.

“kæpa: vēdanākārī insoblevada, læbūvada samahara

viṭeka mē anta dekama,

mē Ard visin avabōdha mæda mārgaya

kirīsamana væḷakīma - dækma niṣpādanaya,

dænuma niṣpādanaya -ṛju dænuma kirīmaṭa,

svayaṁ-pibidīmaṭat kirīmaṭa,

Unvininh kirīmaṭa, sansun kirīmaṭa yomu karayi…”

Even as he thought this, waiting for the monks to bow, in their puddle of white robes, rise, bow again, and leave, Cedd realized he was no corsair warrior. He knew how to use a sword well enough, and had done so for sure. The Dauman war had nearly broken him in two. But to go a season washed in nothing but the sea, a beard to your waist, helmeted with horns on the top, rowing a ship across the Strait of Dayne and back, was a bit much. To imagine that once his ancestors had been like those Dayneland bastards, looting, raiding and carrying off, but never really having, never being able to create something worth holding onto, was too much to believe.

The price of civilization, of a clean shaven face with a narrow black beard and the oils rubbed into the skin, the rich fabric of doublet and the supple black leather of a lord’s trousers, was this pretense to holiness. It had been since the time of Athelstan the lords of Westrial had been transformed from raiders who came back with the most booty for their people to the servants of God who kept the peace, and though such a change seemed dull and often slavish, the rewards were ripe. All of Kingsboro, the great thick red and brown stone of the palace, the high towers, the rich marketplaces, the gold and silver that spilled into the treasury, was the difference between the warlord king Eoga who raided, and the savior king Athelstan who protected with a gentle and beneficent hand. The Ayl had forgotten they were ever anything else until their Hale cousins had come from the north almost two hundred years after they had settled in the south.

Rightly, Cedd noted, as they came to the great portico, under the brass images of the guardian spirits, the Ayl had thought of themselves as more civilized than the Hale. Then came the Dayne, and they had all remembered, while the dreadnoughts came on shore, and the helmeted raiders killed and plundered with little thought, where they had all come from.

As they passed from the portico, the monks in black reverently handed them their swords, and beside Cedd, Sir Anthony took his sword and put it in his belt, red cloak like a streak of blood flowing behind him, he walked ahead of the King but waited for Cedd to come near ear level.

“You need me to go abroad for a thing you keep forgetting to find.”

“Eh?” Cedd raised an elegant black eyebrow.

“A wife,” Anthony said. “You need a queen or your throne might as well go to Anson now.”

Cedd grimaced.

“You know,” Cedd said, “I do not hate Anson.”

Anthony opened his mouth, but Cedd said, “I fear him, but I do not hate him. He is my brother. I know you may not believe this, but there was a time when I loved him.”

“I do believe that,” Anthony said, “In fact, I believe you love him still.”

“At the coronation, when he knelt before me and placed his hands in mine, something passed between us. I knew he was my brother, and he was loyal to me. That he would never plot against me.”

An agonized looked passed over Cedd’s face, and he said, “If only I could know that all the time. If only…”

“If onlys do not matter,” Anthony said, not ungently. “You cannot help your suspicions. No king could do otherwise. And speaking of suspicions, you are five and thirty with no queen and no children.”

Cedd smiled at Anthony, looking almost foolish.

“Dear Anton, what do people suspect?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m King.”

“Which isn’t as powerful as you think, and nothing at all without a queen. Give me a list of women and I’ll go looking for them as soon as your father passes.”

“Edmund has swallowed up three kingdoms and has no daughters,” Cedd said.

“You could marry the daughter of an Earl.”

“The Earl of Herreboro’s daughter… I heard vague talk that she was here, but I did not see her.”

“The Baldwins were Earls of Hale, is there one among them?”

“The Baldwins are poisonous,” Anthony nearly spat as they mounted their horses.

“Should we think Royan?”

“Not if you plan to make an enemy of Anson. Not if you wish to defy Ohean.”

“Why should I give a damn about that black spider?”

“Because he is the Black Spider,” Anthony said. “Remember what he did to the dreadnoughts when they came against Cair Daronwy. And he was only fifteen.”

“Who saw that? Were you there? ”

“No, but many were,” Anthony said. “What if I go to Senach, and to Sussail?”

“Bereneice rules there. Her husband has Wulfstan blood as does she. Marrying their daughter might seem like I was making a bid for Edmund’s throne.”

“Edmund has no children, and he does not have the loyalty of his people. He may welcome your bid. And, at any road, your mother was of the Hale line too. In the morning shall I depart for Senach and see if the King and Queen there wish to stick their finger in Edmund’s eye?”

“I’d rather you go to Sussail.”

“I’ll go where you wish, but either way I must go.”

“Fine,” Cedd said, as Anthony’s manservant came and began to relieve him of his cloak as Anthony’s did the same for him. “But tonight you stay here. I need my old friend with me.”

River’s Rest

That day King Anthal declared, “I feel younger and more fit than I’ve been in ages.”

With that, they rode out of the city to the lodge of River’s Rest. Hilda and Morgellyn, who were not at all convinced of their father’s health, remained behind, but Imogen and her brothers went on, and Wolf joined Ohean, accompanied by Myrne, veiled and dressed in the grey of a servant.

“I think,” the King of Westrial decided, “it is because Ohean has come among us.”

“And nothing of me?” Anson jested.

“But I see you everyday,” Anthal taunted. “But come, Son, lets you and I go hunting and see if we can bring back the Autumn Stag?”

“And Ohean, will you come with us?”

“No,” the mage said, watching Cedd mount his horse beside Anson. “Hunting has never been suitable for me.”

“Not to your taste?” Cedd said

“Hunting is to the taste of anyone who ever sat at table, Grace,” Ohean said. “But it is not to my talent.”

“I will come back,” Anson said, “with great stag horns for you.”

At once Ohean felt disoriented, but hoped no one saw and simply said, “Keep your stag horns and only bring back the meat.”

As they prepared to ride away, the King said, “And I will desire one of your high tales, one of the ballads of the West country when I return.”

As they rode away, Imogen asked, “Are you well, Ohean? You looked taken by something.”

He shook his head, fingering the collar of his dark red mantle.

“When one’s chief gift is visions, he is always being taken by something.”

“Nothing horrible, I hope.”

“There is always something horrible,” he said, dismissively. “Do not let it disturb you, there is nothing in my mind that a cold drink of water cannot cure.”

They joined Wolf and Myrne, and made their way back to the walls of the lodge outside the city.

“When I hear your songs,” Myrne said, “I am tempted to believe your highest gift is music, not vision.”

“I think they are one in the same,” Ohean said. “One delights hearts, one warns them. I prefer the first, and I have mastery over it the way I do not over the other. Come, we will fix ourselves something nice to drink and maybe to eat, and I will sing an old tale to you if you would like.”

The princess said that she would.

“I have had no one to sing to me since my mother died,” Imogen said. “She was a fair singer with a fair voice. I think that’s why Father loved her.”

She moved through the kitchen with Wolf and Myrne, skillful as a maid, fixing drinks and treats and coming out with a frosty ewer of water while Ohean, the mantle gone, brought out the tray. They were eating in peace for some time, and keeping the silence that people who are not uncomfortable around each other can keep when Ohean got up and returned with a lute and sat down to sing.

“This is a tale of ancient times, long before the Ayl and Hale came, ages even before the Remulans, when the world was young and stars sang and cats still talked.

“In those days before the first flooding, when the

Sons of Heaven came frequently to wed the

Daughters of Earth, lived Assanad, called

Harmon, fairest of

the Everlasting people.

Daughter of Amfe and Corum,

a lord and lady of the Sea the White Oak.

Black as night was her hair

and her eyes were grey.

She was the mother of heroes.

When Enkial was a young King,

after the death of his father,

he went onto the sea and wandered into

the Ever Lasting realms.

Came he into the land of Corum

and as he was riding past the palace

of the King there leaned out Assanad,

and when he saw her, his sorrow

was gone and he fell in love.

They say this was the song, he sang:

‘I long to be healed of everything

that dams

me like a flood

if, on this night

at this feast

at this wedding table

ghostly, black and grayed I vague remember

how I felt that

joy

will you give me that trembling

opening,

spilling

in which all of me pours out

once water

now drunken wine!’

But just then there was a long, low, clear mournful horn heard beyond the hills, into the forest.

“It is nothing,” Imogen said as the others looked out. “The stag is dead. They will soon be home.”

Ohean waited for the trembling that had come upon him to pass, and placing a smile upon his face. He said:

Assanad commanded Neti to open the gate,

Enkial came in to ask for her hand.

To Araw it mattered little that Enkial was a King,

or even that he had the blood of Amana.

Proud lord of the Nefil was he.

But Harmon made up her mind.

She took from her father’s house the Jewel of Tethys, woman of the Sea, her mother’s mother, and

with her few possessions she came to Enkial.

In rage, Araw sent his hounds after them,

but Enkial charmed them with his singing.

Araw caused the earth to shake,

but by the power of the stone and for love

of Assanad it was calmed.

They sailed across the waves the waves,

And Araw raised up his army.

Then did Tethys, Lady of the Waves rise up.

“Peace,” she said to Araw, “for she who has found

Her man and blessing upon them. Harmon,

Bear this Jewel, always before thy children and

They children’s children, gift of my sister Alliyah,

Sign of our blessing upon you.

From you may there be born heroes and heroes,

mages and nations

Soon shall come the time of the Great Flooding.

Who shall withstand it without you?”

So saying, did the mighty Lady of the Waves,

mother of Nereids and Merfolk, sink back to the Deep.

Having heard the voice of the daughter of Aiuryn,

a mother of gods and men, did Araw relent.

So Harmon Assanad sailed with Enkial to

Avarum the House of Heroes,

and Araw raised a great storm,

but Enkial reminded the waters

that he was a son of Io, Amana’s daughter.

And at last they came to Avarum,

where she was received as Queen.

With Assanad at his side, Enkial

reigned long as lord in Avarum,

and from their line came Oloreth,

the might hero after the Flood and Osse, father of our fathers,

No war was in Enkial’s day,

and when he was old and full of years,

Assanad called up the great barge,

Ereshaan, on which they had sailed

across the sea, and they returned to the Outer Isles.

But not to her father’s home.

They say there she and he still reign,

In gold and wine and glory.”

Ohean was idly strumming his harp and yawning a bit.

“It was a beautiful tale,” Imogen said, yawning and stretching before the fire, “though there was much about gods and goddesses and long gone people I did not entirely understand, but the way you sang it made it not matter the same time it made me more curious.”