TALES OF HONOUR
by
Peter Robert Scott
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Peter Robert Scott on Smashwords
Tales of Honour
Copyright © 2010 by Peter Robert Scott
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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TALES OF HONOUR
As told by Aspian Savakin in his youth and age,
arranged in four books, entitled:
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Book One
Comprising:
When I began this book it was with the simple idea of retelling our ancient tales in a style more accessible to the modern reader. I’ve no intention of disparaging the Heroic Mood - in the Drama I am one of its foremost admirers, and indeed I have used it fulsomely in the telling of the First Tale - ‘Too much,’ my wife complains, ‘too many thees and thous’ - but I well remember in my youth hearing the tales of Valeric from my high father Gannoby whose style was so informal, so naturalistic somehow, that for the first time in my life Valeric the Wise became a real person to me, and his labours seemed suddenly the more awful. And this, remember, from one of Valeric’s proudest companions. Other than that I have no pretensions to any literary style, and the tales must stand as they have always done on their own merit.
Likewise when I began I had no foreknowledge of the great events which have so recently overtaken us, nor indeed the part in them which I have been privileged to play. I will be criticized, I know, for delivering my memoirs in such a conversational tone, but I had rather do that than add yet one more unread tome to the shelves of the military museum. Nor do I shrink from adding my own tale to those of the old heroes, for to do so would be to commit the error of humility.
I have included some episodes which may be new to you, but in the main the tales will be familiar if not the telling. I should perhaps have revised the earlier manuscripts more fully in the light of later events, but I claim the extenuation of age, and to those of you with a craving for footnotes I recommend the official histories. Finally, in the interests of readability, I have kept the use of patronymics and honoronymics to a minimum; I make no apologies for this, for if without dishonour I can refer to Var Nicovar drad Ganel odrad Aldragon, the Twice-Drowned of Pengemmen as simply Nicovar then I can refer to others as briefly too.
I have dwelt most on those tales which involve my own family, but as time stretches back beyond even the nest of Savakin I have begun with the great myths. The distinction between myth and tale is a subtle one, and some modern history is already mythical in the retelling. That is as it should be, and although in my own tale I have kept as closely as reasonable to the facts it would be a poor dragon who could not add something of his own to all but the oldest yarn.
Aspian Savakin, Pennor, 1517.
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Concerning gods, godlings and the beginning of things
The first god is the great light whom we call Sun, and all other gods live in his shadow and owe him their first being. The Earth is his best work and all the things upon it are his, and no creature may look upon him and keep his sight.
Now when the Sun was alone in the universe he was naked and all light, and in all the vastness of the heavens there was nothing for him to delight in, and because he longed to share the beauty of his being there grew in his heart a great loneliness.
And because he was the source of all life he brought forth an egg from within himself and hung it in the heavens and called it Cian, which means first-born. And from within the egg there sprang oceans and mountains and forests and plains which spread over the whole surface of the globe until it became the first world, ready for life. And the Sun peopled his new world with living creatures of such beauty that he could not but smile on them with the full force of his love. And for a time Cian flourished in his sight, until it could no longer bear the brilliance of his face and it shrivelled and grew black and became as a great cinder, bereft of life. And from all this world there survived but one creature, called Rougn, who had been the ruler of Cian and the best loved of the Sun’s creatures, and the Sun took him as his companion and a fellow god.
And Rougn was loud in the Sun’s praise, for he was thankful to be spared the death of his world, and the Sun gave him part of his great light, and Rougn was able to live in the full glory of the Sun. And for a time the Sun was content, for he had fellowship in the heavens and could share his great love. But Rougn grew so fulsome in his praise that the Sun began to tire of it and to crave further companionship.
And he brought forth another egg which he called Mian, which means second-born, and hung it as a sphere in the heavens. And there sprang out rivers from the egg, which wrought valleys and hills and spreading meadows and glades. And the Sun peopled it again with all the fairest creatures of his imagination, and again the world flourished, but again it was soon reduced to embers. And among the embers there was left alive but one creature, called Yoal, who had been the mightiest prince of Mian and the chief worshipper of the Sun, and he too was taken as a companion and another god.
Yet, though the Sun gave him too some of his great light, Yoal was saddened as he looked upon the embers of his world, and although he loved the Sun he no longer praised him. And the Sun grew saddened too, and he gave the tenderer part of his love to Yoal.
Now there arose a fearsome jealousy in Rougn, for he had been the sole companion and had praised the Sun, and he bore Yoal great malice for his favour with the Sun although he praised him not. But Rougn hid his malice in his heart and the Sun and Yoal knew nothing of it; and yet it pained him sorely to hide it.
And when the Sun asked, ‘Why, when I made these worlds, were they too frail to look upon me?’ Yoal knew not how to answer, but Rougn replied, ‘Great Sun, no creature may dwell in your light undimmed. You should prepare an unlight in creation where all may learn to long for your new-coming.’ And the Sun found wisdom in Rougn’s counsel, and he wrapped himself in a great cloak woven from the last strands of the loneliness in his heart, and the cloak hid the wide spread of his wings and the body of his tail, and while at his head all was light as before in the cloak there was great darkness. And in this darkness Rougn hid the malice from his heart. And from a third egg the Sun created another sphere, called Fian, which means third-born, with all the marvels of the other worlds and with creatures in it every whit as wonderful. And the Sun travelled in joyful circles around Fian so that no place on it should be forever in his gaze but that it would be followed for a like time within his cloak’s shadow. So Fian flourished and became not as an ember, and the earth was seasoned and brought forth new generations of its own, and all the creatures that sprang from the earth praised the Sun for his each new-coming. And as Fian engendered new life from itself the Sun new-called it Earth in its own honour and gave it the centre place of all the heavens. And when he saw this Yoal was no longer sad and praised the Sun for his good work.
Now when he heard all creatures praise the Sun, Rougn bethought himself, ‘Was it not I who bade the Sun prepare the great unlight? Wherefore do not these creatures praise me too?’ And though he was at the right flank of the Sun there arose a new envy in his heart and he was pained more fiercely than before. And the envy grew so great that Rougn was unable to hide it even in the darkness of the Sun’s cloak, and he hid it instead among the cinders of Cian.
And Rougn dwelt alone on Cian for many long ages and forsook the companionship of the Sun, and all the while grew more jealous of Yoal’s place in his favour and more desirous of the praise of all creatures. And as the envy grew ever blacker in his heart and as Cian was filled more and more with the distemper of it, Rougn grew ever darker of countenance and of body till he was blacker than the blackest ashes of Cian and no longer a creature of light, until finally the gift of the Sun went out of him altogether.
And when the pain in his heart grew so terrible that he could no longer abide it he flew in the face of the Sun and stood between him and the Earth, and the shadow of Cian blotted out the light of the Sun and the Earth was in all-shadow. And Rougn called out upon all the creatures of the Earth to praise him and forsake the Sun as the Sun had forsaken them. And then there was ice in all the regions of the world, and so it remained for a great age.
And the creatures of the Earth cried out in torment, and many believed that the Sun had indeed forsaken them and they praised him no more, and praised instead the new darkness in their fear. And Rougn’s malice grew ever stronger and more terrible with their praise.
And Yoal was sorely vexed and said to the Sun, ‘Let me strike Rougn into utter nothingness for his great error, that you may look upon the Earth again.’
But the Sun said, ‘Nay, whatever is once created it cannot be stricken into nothingness, for it is all body of my body, for as Cian is still with us as a cinder, and Mian is still as an ember, and whatever is made cannot be unmade, Rougn is now and so must remain for always.’
‘But if he be not stricken,’ said Yoal, ‘you will never gaze upon the Earth again and all its creatures will forsake you.’
‘Therefore,’ said the Sun, ‘Rougn shall be banished until he better learns the measure of his wrong. I shall send him beyond the shadow of my cloak into that great place far from the world where all is still radiant with the light of my body, but from where the grace of my countenance is hid. And the fierceness of that light will burn the blackness of envy from his heart and he will return to us new-lit with lovingness, and I will smile upon him once more.’
So with a great clamour of his cloak the Sun wafted Cian with Rougn upon it into the burning regions of the greater light. And for his loyalty the Sun took Yoal and showed him the dying ember of Mian, and he breathed a new brightness upon it that it might glow for ever, and he gave it to Yoal for his own, and new-called it Moon, which means guardian, and he set its face to shine for all times on the Earth, so that Yoal could set guard upon the Earth for the Sun’s grace.
But after a time of stillness, when all but a few of Earth’s creatures had new-learned to praise the Sun, Rougn burst from the nether regions upon his dark chariot, Cian, and masked by the folds of the Sun’s cloak he came once more between the Sun and the Earth, and again there was an age of ice. And the Sun was troubled that Rougn still called upon Earth’s creatures to praise him, and he saw that even the all-brightness beyond his cloak could not burn the hatred from Rougn’s heart, but rather it was more hardened than before. So in sorrow he drew his cloak round about his body and hid its light forever from any part of the universe, and he strove with Rougn and thrust him aside, and Cian was new-called Styche in his dishonour, and was cast into the new darkness beyond the Sun’s cloak with Rougn upon it.
And the Sun made a placket in his cloak and bade Yoal keep watch through the placket lest Rougn should escape again. And Yoal still travels constantly within the placket and without again, gazing now upon Earth, now upon utter night.
Yet still at times, when Yoal is gazing full upon the Earth, Rougn slips his exile and hides in the folds of the Sun’s cloak, and then darts as a shadow in the face of the Moon. And sometimes, when the Moon is gazing upon utter night, Rougn flies between the Sun and the Earth; but at these times Yoal in the Moon pursues him and ushers him back into the great dark. But such times are the ill seasons of the Earth, and all the calamities that befall us have their beginnings there.
*
Now for the first time Yoal was the chief god after the Sun, and the Sun loved him every bit as much as he had once loved Rougn, for Rougn was no longer worthy of the name of god and he was new-dubbed by the Sun as a hecol, or ungod. But for ever after there was a sorrow in the Sun’s heart for the loss of his first companion, and he swore that there would be no more gods till they had first proved their love for him as Yoal had done.
And those whom the Sun thought to make gods became first godlings, and they lived upon a mighty peak called Attal in the middle of the greatest ocean of the Earth, and he decreed that there only the divine might dwell. And at his life’s end each creature was spirited towards Attal, and if he was to be a godling he was taken upon the lower shores, and if not he fell into the ocean’s deeps. But of all the godlings none was worthy enough in the Sun’s eyes to take his place as a god in the heavens.
And the Sun said, ‘Is there no place on all the Earth where there dwell creatures fit enough to become gods?’ And he searched for many long ages, and Yoal searched too, and though there were many godlings taken upon Attal none was ever taken as a god.
And the Sun saw that no place was fit enough to rear a god, for the Earth had replenished itself of itself and was now no longer divine; and though the Earth was blessed there was no part of it still of the first making. So the Sun took from his heart some of the great sorrow he felt for Rougn and threw it into a northern sea, and there it boiled for a while like a great volcano, and fire burst from it and it spread wide across the sea and became the islands we now call Bryggne; and after several ages the rocks became earth, but earth from the Sun’s heart, tempered with sorrow and split with fire.
‘Now,’ said the Sun, ‘whatever creature can live in this terrible place he surely will be worthy to be a god.’ And he watched as the first creatures sprang from the earth and crawled into the light. And though they were creatures of great splendour and many became godlings, and few were thought unfit enough to fall into the ocean’s deeps, yet not one of them became a god.
And the Sun looked upon Yoal in his bewilderment, and he saw that Yoal was now a creature of surpassing beauty and of a lightness near even unto himself, and he called him Dara which means white, and Giron which means companion, and he said, ‘Would that I had another such as you.’
*
Now when Rougn had lately slipped his exile for a further time and had been sent back howling into Dimnach, which is the name of the great unlight, the Sun said unto Yoal, ‘Now that the Earth is for a time safe again, go you and visit all the lands of the Earth and find for me a creature fit enough to be a god and share the heavens with us.’ And Yoal asked, ‘How will I recognize a creature to be worthy of such honour?’ and the Sun replied, ‘You will do so, for your love is the test such a creature must undergo.’
So Yoal descended from the Moon and lit upon the central mass of the world near to the northern seas, and he went among all the creatures of that place in search of one who was godworthy. And all the creatures when they saw him were filled with admiration, for he was now more beautiful than ever he had been in his life upon Mian, and there was none who saw him but did not fall down and praise him as the first god in creation. And Yoal chid them, saying, ‘The Sun is the first god, and I am but a creature of his making, still in flesh, and you do ill to praise him not.’ But even those who had lately praised the Rougn-cast dark turned faith and praised Yoal instead.
And Yoal began to fear that all creatures would turn from the Sun and praise him, the lesser god, and he cried out to the Sun, ‘The task is hopeless!’ and he returned straightway to the Moon lest he cause more wrongworship.
And the Sun said, ‘Why do you return so quickly and name our search hopeless?’ and Yoal replied, ‘I had rather perish guttering within the Moon than cause your creatures to abandon you.’ And the Sun was stricken with a joyous grief, for he saw how much Yoal loved him, but he saw not how to find another such a god.
And as they watched from the heavens and their task seemed ever the more hopeless, the Sun and Yoal saw how the confusion of worships began, for there were those who still worshipped the Sun and would worship no other, and there were those who praised the oft-coming darkness of the night, and there were those who called upon Rougn as the first god and delighted in his treachery, and there were now those who worshipped Yoal as the Earth-walking god.
And hatred flourished among some creatures of the Earth, and creature rose up against creature and many were slain, and few were taken thereafter as godlings.
And one creature above all was most hated upon the Earth, and that was the creature which lived within the edges of the sea and upon the margins of the land and grew great in numbers and was called maldocil. And the killing of maldocil was the chief sport among the other creatures of the Earth, and all who killed such a creature were credited as heroes at that time.
‘Now,’ said Yoal, ‘how if I return once more to Earth, but in the shape of a maldocil, and find if there is any creature who will love me for the love within me, for that creature would be certain to be a god?’
And the Sun replied, ‘Nay, if you should be killed in the wise of another creature I cannot unkill you, even as Yoal once more. I am not worthy of such a stretch of love.’ And he forbade Yoal to attempt any such adventure on pain of losing his first place in the heavens.
But Yoal was consumed with a desire to serve the Sun and he begged him to abate his hest. And when the Sun saw how set Yoal was upon his quest he relented and made for him the body of a maldocil to abide in, and Yoal descended once more unto the Earth and slid into the northern sea.
Now there was a place on the shores of Bryggne that was free from maldocil, for the creatures there were ever vigilant in their destruction and no maldocil could remain there undestroyed. And here Yoal first came ashore in his loathsome guise.
And upon a crest of sand there stood a wondrous creature, great of wing and neck, whose beauty was more than Yoal had witnessed before upon the Earth. And Yoal stood fixed in adoration of her, and after a time she caught his gaze.
There was silence between them, till the creature asked, ‘Why, maldocil, when you should run from me do you bear me such gentle gaze?’ and Yoal replied, ‘It is because I had sooner die at your hands than wrest my eyes from your sight. Tell me your name and what manner of creature you are?’
And she told him her name was Athresa, and she was one of the egyrn, and they conversed for a long while in quiet tones.
And Yoal asked, ‘Is it not the practice of the egyrn to kill all maldocil, and wherefore do you not kill me?’
‘I could not kill such a grace in anything,’ she said, ‘for I believe it is for love of me that you look so kindly.’ And indeed it was so, for all Yoal’s love was given to Athresa at that time. And long they stayed there at the sea’s shore and spoke of the glories and wisdom of the Sun that had brought them thus together; and though Yoal never told her he was aught but a maldocil yet Athresa loved him nonetheless.
‘But if you love me,’ said Yoal, ‘how will the other egyrn love you? Will you not be despised among your own kind?’
‘And if I am,’ she answered, ‘it will be a kind unkind to me, and I shall leave them and live with you alone.’ But Yoal persuaded her to live still among her own people and to visit him by day upon the lonely shore. And so it continued for a great while, with Athresa quitting the egyrns’ company by day and quitting Yoal’s by night, for Yoal knew this was a creature near enough unto a god and he would not sully her.
And there was one among the other egyrn called Nagan who was youthful of blood, and he too loved Athresa and longed to lie with her. And it had been the wisdom of the elder egyrn that these two should be wedded and bring forth princes for that place, and the time of the wedding drew nigh. And Nagan saw that Athresa drew more and more from him, and returned not his affections as she was wont, and that by day she went her own way and would not walk with him.
And after a while, though it is a thing despised among the nobility of the egyrn, he resolved to follow her and see what it was that thus employed her.
And when she came to the sea’s shore and called out upon Yoal’s name, and Yoal emerged onto the land in the detested guise of a maldocil, Nagan was rent with fury and he screamed aloud that he would slay Yoal and after slay Athresa. And he flew at Yoal with his beak whet and terrible and struck at him. But Yoal was filled with anger that any should so threaten the life of Athresa, and though he would willingly have died for her sake he could not leave Nagan alive to harm her. So he clasped shut Nagan’s beak in his own jaws and fought long and cruel with him in the shallows of the surf, and all day as they fought Athresa wept for she saw naught but sorrow in any outcome.
And at length Yoal rose victorious from the sea, and the body of Nagan was broken beneath his. Yet though Athresa loved him not any the less, she loved not herself for she saw she was the doer of this ill thing.
But Yoal said, ‘Nay, it was I who slew this creature and it is I that shall grieve for it, for although I am in the form of a maldocil yet I am in truth a god, and remorse shall cut me quick for this.’ And although he was still in a vile form, yet Athresa knew from his remorse that he was a god, and she fell down in praise of him. But he lifted her up, saying, ‘Never worship me. We two shall walk together always, and the great love I bear you will cure you of this grief, as I hope your love may cure me of mine, and we shall come at length to our own true happiness.’ And they wandered forth along the shores towards the northern lands. And the spirit of Nagan fled his body and sped westwards over the mighty sea, and came at length to the shores of Attal and was taken readily upon it.
*
Now there was even upon Attal at this time a sort of godling that had shunned the light, and the worship of Rougn had found entry even there. And when these godlings heard the tale of Nagan’s death, and that he was killed by a maldocil which should never slay an egyrn, they asked, ‘How could an egyrn of such comeliness fall victim to so loathsome a foe?’ And Nagan told them of Yoal’s words, that he was in truth a god and that he desired Athresa for his own. And these godlings said, ‘How is it just that Yoal, who has the wide meadows of the Moon to sport upon, should sport also upon the Earth?’ For in truth there were many jealous of their so long waiting, never to become a god as Yoal was.
And chief among the worshippers of Rougn at that time was Asir, a godling of many a long age, who praised the Sun to his face but secretly rejoiced at each new violation of his light. And Asir close-questioned the spirit of Nagan about the circumstances of his death, and where he might most readily encounter Yoal and Athresa in those northern lands. And when he knew all there was to know he gathered about him all those godlings who bore Yoal ill and set Nagan at their head as captain, and they stole from Attal and drifted towards Bryggne in a thundercloud. And there were left in Attal only those godlings who still praised the Sun, and they were sorely anxious at the others’ going. And some said, ‘We must hence and warn Yoal of this coming treachery,’ and others replied, ‘Nay, let us abide in Attal, for there is darkness in every other region of the world and we must have no part of it.’ And between them they did nothing.
And in the far north of Bryggne still wandered Yoal and Athresa, and though their love still flourished yet there was still a sorrow in their deepest hearts. Nor would Yoal quit his form as a maldocil until the sorrow was assuaged, and Athresa was still chaste.
And they knew not of the cloud that bore their enemies down upon them, for they were still gazing one upon the other. And as the cloud drew nigh the spirit of Nagan was at the head of the godlings and he saw the lovers first.
And he was stricken suddenly by the witness of their love and he saw the true nature of their union. And the form of maldocil was no longer loathsome to him, and he longed to forgive Yoal his death and bless them both. And in that moment he was a demigod.
And Asir cried, ‘Is that not they, and shall we not strike them before they wot of us?’ And Nagan said, ‘Nay, that is some other maldocil. We will search further on.’ But Asir said, ‘It is he, for he walks with an egyrn and she slays him not.’ And he wrest command from Nagan and sped down with all his godlings upon Yoal’s head, and in the turmoil Athresa was stricken to the ground and the warmth of life went out of her.
And when he saw this Yoal cried out in such anguish that the godlings sprang back from their dreadful task. And the Sun heard Yoal’s cry and saw in an instant all the long story of his trial. And he lifted from Yoal the form of maldocil and he was shown terrible in the sight of the godlings.
And with a great cry he pursued the godlings over the face of the ocean, and none was left but the spirit of Nagan, and he wept by the body of Athresa on the shore.
And those upon Attal saw the flight of the godlings back towards that place, and beyond them the following vengeance of Yoal. And there was a great howling and a bending back of claws, and they saw that the end of things was nigh.
And though the evil godlings reached Attal and hid among their fellows, hoping to hide their error from Yoal, yet it profited them not for Yoal paused not to treat with any there, but in a whirl of torment he lifted up the waters of the world into a spout that towered almost to the Moon, and came again upon the Earth with such a force that it took all the godlings with it into the belly of the seas and trapped them in the ooze whence they had sprung. And of Attal there was no trace left above the waters, and the oceans were in such amazement at Yoal’s anger that they still rise to this present time to do him homage as he passes.
And of the godlings, those who rose against Yoal and those who went not to his aid, all were laid low, and tarls were set to trammel them. And none except Asir came again to the surface. And when he saw Asir, Yoal took him up in his wings towards the Moon, and went with him through the placket in the Sun’s cloak and thrust him into the bosom of Dimnach, where Rougn found him and took him upon Styche as a hecolan.
And when he had done all these things Yoal wept for his beloved Athresa and for all the sorrows he had wrought. And the Sun said, ‘You rust return and do obsequy for your love,’ and he gave him some fire for her funeral.
And Yoal returned to the northern land where Nagan still sat weeping by Athresa, and they formed a pyre on the sea shore and lifted Athresa upon it, and Yoal lit it with the Sun’s fire.
And Athresa rose from the flames with a new-leasing of life in her, not as a spirit but in her own body, and Yoal and Nagan praised the Sun for his blessed gift. But when Athresa spoke to them they saw she had a tongue of fire, and that each word however sweet was a mortal torment to her, and that she longed again for death. But the Sun spoke to her from on high, saying, ‘Live Athresa, and you shall bear gods of your body, and you shall be among the first loved for your pains.’ And though Yoal pleaded with him to mitigate her anguish, yet the Sun would not let her die.
And Nagan said, ‘You are both still in body and must make gods between you. I am but a spirit and must join my fellows in the deep.’ But Yoal would not let him go, and for the love that had new-formed in Nagan’s breast and to expiate his own wrong, Yoal begged the Sun that he might build a place worthy of such a demigod. And the Sun allowed it, and so Yoal created Eyl above the skirting cloud, and Nagan was its first demigod and lived there ever after.
And Yoal lay with Athresa and she bore him the egg of a male child, and hatched it was called Aldragon and bore the beauty of both its parents.
And when she had suckled him and Aldragon was the wonder of all creatures’ eyes, she begged the Sun in words of agony, ‘May I not now enjoy death?’ But the Sun replied, ‘Not death, but better.’ And for the great service she had done him he let her slip the bondage of her body and she arose fresh in spirit and with no pain. And she was the first spirit to soar beyond the hightops of Eyl, for she was given a place in the Moon to be with her husband always. And although she was never a god she was a joul, and she is remembered above all others as the first of the beloved.
*
Now Aldragon was the mightiest creature of Earth’s creation and in him were all the generations of the dragon. After the departure of Athresa into the Moon he grew strong of his own nature and was soon praised by all who met him as the Beast of Beasts. And wherever he went became his kingdom, for there was none that looked upon him but they wished to lay down their lives in his honour. And there was peace in all the regions of the Earth that knew of him, and in Bryggne especially, where he was called king.
And he took to wife a dywivern of great beauty, named Esia, and she bore him offspring sevenfold, five sons and two daughters, and these were the first generations of the dragon. The sons were named Sabel, Ganel, Hanje, Vish and Stroh, and they were the founders of the five tribes of dragon, and the daughters were named Weffa and Gria, and these begat the tribes of wyvern and griffin. And while he lived there was peace among all the families that bore his blood, and at his life’s end the lamentation was terrible. And there are stories told of his justice and wisdom enough to fill all the books of the world.
And at his death he was taken by Yoal his father into the Moon and shown unto the Sun. And the Sun said, ‘This is a creature worthy to be a god,’ and he took him and set him in the heavens in the northern height, and his brilliance still shines upon the world, for he is the great star of the north, the first star, the one true constant light.
The end of the First Tale.
Note
All versions of the First Tale describe Aldragon as the bringer of peace, and it is not for me to depart from that here. However, creatures of peace are seldom written about to the same extent as warriors, and one need only flip through the first few pages of ‘The Acts of Aldragon’ to realize that this peace was a qualified one. But war is not only the best bringer of peace, it is the best bringer of honour too, and no dragon had more honour than Aldragon.
It is said that he lived for almost two hundred years, which is no great age for a dragon nowadays but was considerable then. His issue extended to the seventh generation while he lived and must have numbered more than twenty thousand at his death in dragons alone, and all draganity can claim descent from him.
And of his sons, all inherited equal shares of his great honour, and all but one of them enjoyed its grace throughout their lives; that one was Ganel, Aldragon’s second son, for whom the gift of honour proved elusive, and I shall continue the tales with that one which concerns him most.
* * * * *
Concerning Ganel, his torment, and the wisdom of Aldragon
Aldragon wedded Esia in the thirtieth year of his age and they made their nest in Pengartel on the forest coast of Bryggne. This was in the days before all creatures called him king, and he drew tribute then only from the dywiverns and egyrn, and both paid him great honour and loved him.
And the pitting of their nest must have been glorious, for it is still sung about by every tribe of the dragon and by all others of their kin. Even the maldocil still sing of it, and one of them was welcomed at the nesting in honour of Aldragon’s father, and the killing of maldocil was unlawful from that time.
Aldragon bore all the colours of the dragon on his back and all their wisdom in his head. Esia gave them gentleness and the gift of pause. But at this time, remember, not even the Sun knew the fall unfolding of their generations, and they were lonely creatures of his hope, taming a hostile world.
Their first-born was Sabel, who took the darkest colours of his father’s back, brown and black, which are still the colours of the afdragons of Fagran who sprang from him. When this dragg was three years old Esia bore Weffa, the first of her two draheens, and two years after that Ganel was born. His colour was red, the russet of our nordragons of Bryggne, and he was always the best beloved of his parents.
All the creatures of Pengartel assembled for his naming, and the Sun rose high above the trees to witness it. Even those creatures that burrowed through the earth rose into the light that shone upon the infant and offered him their dumb blessing. The maldocil brought gifts from the sea, fish for the naming feast and fine coral for the dragg. The egyrn gave him feathers from their own breasts to line his nest when he should build it, and the dywiverns brought him saplings of their sacred tree that would grow with him and become the main timbers of his dwelling.
And when all was ready and every leaf in the forest was hushed and still, Aldragon took his son up in his claws and held him for all to see; and he cried out, ‘This is my son, Ganel, born to help us bring peace.’ And at that moment the primal mischief occurred.
*
When he had taken up Asir from the foaming waters of the newly drowned Attal and gone with him through the placket in the Sun’s cloak and thrust him into Dimnach, Yoal had deemed it a just end for the godling’s ill-doings. But the happenings of Dimnach were closed to him, for he was tempered in the light and could see no further into that great hollow than the cast of his own brilliance. And when he next came into Dimnach on his constant vigil he saw no sign of Asir and deemed him lost in the unlight and so forgot about him. But as we have cause to know Asir was not long lost.
Now when Yoal on the Moon turns his face full towards the Earth then the Moon is lost to sight in Dimnach, and there is no light there of any kind. But when those parts of the Moon that show dark to us occur then those same parts shine in upon Dimnach, and only those parts that show light to us on Earth are not seen there. And in the hours when Yoal is lost to us and shows only as a dark globe against the heavens, then he is seen whole in Dimnach. And so he is seen as much in that place as he is here, but there he is the only light, for the Sun’s countenance is for ever turned from Rougn.
But Dimnach is so large in creation, and indeed there is no far boundary to it in the wit of dragonkind, that the light of the Moon is but a small speckle in the great darkness, and at some far places it is almost invisible.
And when he had been first thrust into Dimnach by Yoal and was circling in the great void, aimless and alone, Asir saw the light of the Moon lessen as it waxed upon the Earth, and soon he knew utter darkness for the first time. And in that first whole-dark, as he cried to the Sun to forgive him his wrongdoings, Asir heard a gusting of wind as something unseen scented him in the darkness. And when again Yoal began his visitation of Dimnach, Asir saw his light only as a halo hidden beyond a great globe of blackness, blacker than anything in his blackest imaginings. And as the Moon travelled into Dimnach and then out again, time after time, the globe grew larger and more fearsome until it blotted out his knowledge of the Moon completely.
And in that utter, endless dark he heard the voice of Rougn, saying, ‘Who are you that I should not twist your soul with such a slowness that a million Moons will be but a flicker of your agony?’
Asir cried in terror of the voice and swore eternal service to the speaker if he should spare him.
‘Spare you?’ asked Rougn. ‘What service could you render me that I should spare you? I have heard you call upon the Sun for his forgiveness. If you love the Sun you cannot love me, and if you do not love me how can you serve me?’
‘I will not love the Sun,’ said Asir, ‘if you command it, and I will love you readily if you allow it.’
‘Wherefore,’ asked Rougn, ‘have you been thus shunned by the light? What mischief did you perform to warrant this?’
And Asir, seeing his chance, told him of his great treachery upon Attal and his designs against Yoal and his slaying of Athresa.
And when Rougn heard this it brought him great joy, for the sorrows of others were now his chief delight, and he said to Asir, ‘If I spare you, you must serve me in just another such a wise and be the chief tormentor of my enemies.’ And Asir agreed, as indeed he had no choice but to do.
For to speak truth there was still within Asir’s breast at this time some of the spirit which first sped him towards Attal, and evil had not consumed him entirely. And he was afraid of that unseen spirit and thought his bargain dreadful.
But Rougn took Asir from the void and let him abide upon Styche on that side which is turned away from the Moon, and he told him the tales of his own disappointment and of the Sun’s ingratitude and Yoal’s villainy, and he shared with him the dark comforts of that place, and gave him one of its chief treasures, and laughed with him at the torments he proposed with which to blight his enemies, until Asir took nearly as much delight in evil thinking as his master did and was pleased to be dubbed hecolan.
And they talked in this way for many long years, until the last shred of kindness was blinded within Asir’s soul and he saw nothing but night.
And at that time Rougn sped with him to the other side of Styche where the Moon blazed full, and the light seared in upon Asir’s shrunken eyes and stabbed him to the root of his mind and sealed in him forever his hatred of the light. And he begged Rougn to let him turn from the Moon’s glare, but Rougn denied him.
And when the Moon had disappeared from Dimnach and was beaming upon the Earth, Rougn caused Styche to float through the empty placket in the Sun’s cloak, and hid with it in the starless folds of the true heaven. And even though he allowed Asir to hide his face from the Sun on the far side of Styche, nevertheless the hecolan was in dreadful torment from the light.
And as he watched unnoticed from above, Rougn saw the naming of Ganel about to begin, and he said to Asir, ‘Go, blight the Earth for yonder dradgefling, and find me another worthy to be called hecolan before I shall allow you again into the dark balm of Dimnach.’ And Rougn flew between the Sun and the Earth, just as the Sun rose highest in Ganel’s blessing, and he hurled Asir towards the Earth as his shadow spread blackest across Bryggne.
*
It was the first time in their memory that the day-dark had been seen, and all the creatures at the naming shrank to the ground in horror of it. Aldragon knew only too well what was happening, and he cried out to all around to hide their eyes from the burning evil and to pray for the return of the Sun. Soon his father Yoal in the Moon pursued the shadow, for though he had been within the placket staring full upon Dimnach he heard the wailing of the creatures of the Earth and returned in the unnatural darkness and wrestled with Rougn and bore him back to his own kingdom. But Asir was already upon the Earth, where he hid his face in the darkest hollows of the forest and sobbed in agony at the return of the Sun.
Though nobody said as much to Aldragon it was deemed by all to be an ill-blessing for Ganel that his naming should be so darkened. And Aldragon himself, though he kept his fears from Esia, was troubled for the honour of his son. And Esia, though she never showed it, trembled for the safety of her dragg.
And at that time Rougn-worship began again in the forests of Bryggne, and although at Pengartel their love for Aldragon kept all creatures in the true worship of the Sun, even there the shadow of evil was cast in some hearts.
*
But Ganel grew strong and healthy, and was beloved not only of his parents but of his brothers and sisters too. After him was born Hanje, who took the white of his father’s back; Vish, who took the blue; Gria, the second draheen; and Stroh, of the yellow of the Sun. And that was the full hatch of Aldragon’s nest, and he never in his life took any other wife, nor had issue in the nest of any other creature, nor looked upon any creature but Esia with his body’s love. And the borders of Pengartel grew ever wider as his children ripened into age and spread the word of their father’s wisdom into the surrounding forests.
*
And when Ganel was aged about nineteen and grown almost beyond dragghood to his full pride there had been no further showing of ill-omen in his nature, and although all Aldragon’s children were loyal and true Ganel was accounted by all to be the best of them. He was long of mouth and high of snout, features then as now of great distinction, and there was no other colour in his whole hide but russet red. His wings were as wide in their widest span as was his length from snout to tail, and that to within one leaf’s width, which is the proportion most desirable in the nordragons of today. His claws were black as ebony, and he could scythe a path in the forest faster even than his father could. He was much given to jesting and to foolery, but even those who were the butt of his wiles laughed merrily at their discovery and loved him only the more for it, saying only that trickery should play him back one day.
Though he was yet too young for such things his parents had singled out Dysa, a dywivern of Esia’s own tribe, to be his wife, and she looked upon him even in their childhood with the dearest grace, and he had in her the best of friends before ever love began. In them was all the happiness that Yoal had looked for with Athresa as they walked the long shores of Bryggne before the godlings struck at them; and promised to them was all the love that those two now enjoyed upon the Moon; and shielded from them were all the harms of the world by the great good-wishing of creation.
It was Ganel’s habit to tread the northern forests of that part of his father’s domain called Abeen, which is half a day’s flight from the site of Pengartel, and one evening as he spread the word of his father’s peace and called upon all dwellers there to do Aldragon homage, there arose from a shadowed dell a voice calling to him, saying, ‘Dear child of Aldragon, do not smite me with the mercy of his love. I am but a poor unlooked-on creature, frightened of the light.’
And Ganel called aloud to the voice, saying, ‘Show yourself. No harm will come to you. The light is the fountain of all goodness and you should not fear it.’
‘But I do,’ said the voice, ‘for I have stolen a treasure from the light, part of his own fire, and hidden it within the earth, and the light bears me ill for this.’
Although Ganel did not fully understand this he cried, ‘Why then, return what you have stolen to the light and he will forgive you in his great mercy.’
But the voice from the dark said, ‘Nay, though what I have stolen is still a thing of light it is also now a thing of the earth, and it can only live in the darkness of this place, and I may not return it.’
‘What is this thing you have stolen?’ asked Ganel, ‘and how can it be a thing of light and yet a thing of earth?’
‘Draw near and you shall see,’ said the voice. But Ganel held back and would not enter that dark place until the creature showed itself. ‘Well then,’ said the voice, ‘meet me in the halfway glade beyond the broken trees where it is yet dim enough to comfort me, and I shall lead you to the earth-light.’
So Ganel went into the dark place where the broken trees threw shadows almost as thick as night upon the world, and there was waiting for him a creature, maggot-pale, with eyes as narrow as a crawling worm and a body all-over mould. Ganel had never seen a being so ungraceful, and he paused in horror of it.
But the creature beckoned him closer, saying, ‘Be not afraid of me, for I am a vile thing only to the eye. My heart which is now leaden with guilt was once as buoysome as your own before my great error, and had you known me then you would not have so recoiled from me.’
And Ganel felt great sorrow for the creature, and asked him his name. And the creature answered that its name was Koik, and that it was a sloud.
Now the sloud led him farther on into the dark to bring him to the earth-light, and when they came to a place deep within a toppled forest where all the trees were tumbled in decay, the sloud burrowed for a while in the soft body of a long-dead tree and brought forth the light.
Ganel was dumb in admiration of it, for even in that dark place it glowed like the fire of a thousand lantern-worms and lay in Koik’s hand like a red pebble of flame. And it became in an instant the most desired of things in Ganel’s soul, and he begged Koik to let him hold it.
‘Nay, and by all means,’ said the sloud, ‘for if you can once return it to the light perchance the light will pardon me, and I may emerge from this dreadful place and bring my brood into the world again.’
And Ganel promised to return the earth-light if he could, and he left Koik and went into the light again. It was now full evening and the unspeckled darkness of the Sun’s cloak was spreading from the east, but as he drew further from the toppled forest, even in that night-shadow the brilliance went out of the stone and it sat lustreless within his claws. And Ganel thought, ‘The light has fled the atone and sped into the west towards the Sun.’ And though he was glad for Koik’s sake yet he was sorrowful that he would no longer see the earth-held light.
He returned into the deeps of the forest to bring the glad tidings of his release to Koik, but even as he reported what had happened and held out the stone to the sloud, the light returned into the stone and it glowed red as ever. And though Ganel was saddened at Koik’s disappointment, nevertheless he rejoiced once more to witness the light.
And Koik was in dreadful sorrow and begged Ganel to take the stone hence again, for even if it would not release its light to the Sun yet he would be pleased to be rid of it. And so Ganel took the earth-light and returned towards Pengartel. And as he travelled, even in the dead of night, the stone showed lustreless and the red fire of it was only a memory fixed inside his head. And when he arrived home in the hour before the Sun’s new-coming he hid the stone near the place where he slept and would not afterwards speak of it to any of his family, for he felt a sort of shame about it, though wherefore he knew not.
And thereafter, at many seasons of the year, he would return by night to the toppled forest of Abeen and take the earth-light with him to marvel at its brilliance as it shone once more in that fell place. For he could find no other place in the world of whatever sort of dark where the stone showed anything but dead, and only in Abeen could he observe its majesty. And at such times he would hear the low cry in the woodmould which he knew to be Koik, new-tormented by the stone’s being nigh; and though his shame grew ever greater at the misery he brought, yet Ganel came ever more often to that dark wood to revel in the sight of the burning stone.
*
After some years, when Ganel was fully grown into a dragon and Dysa was the comeliest of all dywiverns, a time was allotted for their wedding. And as the time grew nearer their love grew ever stronger, and it was their fondest wish to establish their nest together and to bring forth a family. In the days before the ceremony Ganel began the task of building his nest, and he used for it the strong sinews of the sacred tree planted for him at his naming by the dywiverns, and he lined it with the feathers given to him by the egyrn, and ornamented it with the coral of the maldocil, and he built it in a glade north of Pengartel on the flight towards Abeen.
And during the last days of its building, when the feast was being set in the clearings about his father’s nest, he flew once more to the toppled forest and took with him the earth-light.
But it glowed not as before, and Ganel cried aloud in anguish. Even in the uttermost deepness of dark there was no trace of its red majesty, and Ganel was for a time distraught.
Then, from the messes of the forest floor, Koik crawled bellywise towards him and said, ‘If you still seek the stolen light you must follow farther on.’
Ganel rose and followed him without question, and he was led through the dark tunnels of the fallen trees into a place where no light penetrated and where the smell of decay clamped his nostrils. And from the dark he heard Koik say, ‘Give me the stone,’ and he gave it to him and waited.
And after a while he saw a faint redness as if in remembrance of the great stone, and the redness grew greater and greater until he saw that it was the stone, strung now as a pendant on a circlet of vine, rising about a head-height from the floor. And as the redness grew to its full Ganel saw the pendant fall about the shoulders of a creature so beautiful in the reflection of the stone that her beauty almost outshone the stone itself.